Orion's Herald

Chapter 58: What's new in my garden?

Hector shook his head. He grabbed Marcus’ outstretched hand and gave it a firm shake. It was unfortunate that his friend couldn’t come with them, but it was to be expected—he wasn’t a fighter. 

“Keep those coins safe, alright,” Hector said, releasing Marcus’ hand. He then patted Delworth on the shoulder, pulling his lips into a tight smile. “And you get home safe; I’d hate to have to save you again,” he said with a slight chuckle.

Delworth lowered his head. “I’m sorry for the trouble I caused,” he turned his head towards Marcus. “Thank you for helping me meet such nice people.” 

Marcus shrugged. “It’s fine. Not really like I planned for it to happen, but it turned out well in the end, anyway. So I won’t complain.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out,” Emela said. Hector turned his head towards her. She and Nyx stood to the side, saying their goodbyes for the night. The entire atmosphere was a tad bit morbid if Hector thought about it. 

With what Delworth had said, it was like they were going off to war. Though, in a way, they kind of were. It wasn’t often that your average cultivator went off to raid a farm controlled by demonic cultivators—not in the city of Middlec, anyway. 

We will be fine. I’m sure about that. At most, we can just run away once things get a bit too dicey. It’s not like we have to fight to the death or anything. 

Hector turned his attention to one of the far walls of the abandoned brewery. The smell of stale, rancid ale continued to slither through the air. Lincoln sat, his back firmly pressed up against one of the supporting pillars. 

He’d chosen to take the time to rest and mentally prepare himself. He also wanted to get a little cultivation in beforehand. There was no guarantee that he’d break through, but every little would help. Plus, they needed to wait till the dead of night before they could leave, and that was a while away. 

Jodie, much like Lincoln, was also meditating. She sat on the other far wall—which was actually roofed. Though if that was a good thing or not could be left up to debate; after all, you never knew when it would collapse. 

The two hadn’t made up since earlier. Hector doubted they’d make up for a while. Too many wounds too quickly. If lives weren’t on the line, he’d have preferred they not be around each other. But thankfully, they could both put aside their differences and work together. 

Nodding at Marcus, Hector stepped past him and made his way over to Emela and Nyx. He nodded at the both of them as he walked over. “Are you sure you can’t stay?” Hector asked, with a slight pleading in his voice. 

It would be an understatement to say that having a Gravity Forging five around would help a lot. A mouse skittered by. And the dripping from a far-off wall caused Hector’s ears to twitch. Emela gave him a weak smile. 

“I would love to, trust me,” she said, brushing one of her ponytails behind her. “But I just can’t. Maybe in the future, who knows?” 

Nyx shot her a look. Hector pretended not to notice. The girl was doing a lot today; it was as if something had happened between the two of them—they wouldn’t say though. And it wasn’t like he needed them to. 

“That’s a shame,” Hector said with a heavy sigh. He rested his hands on his hips.

Footsteps came from behind him, and he turned his head. Marcus and Delworth walked over, both holding a few of the coin pouches. Hector spared a look behind them, checking on the Farmhand. 

The boy hadn’t so much as moved since his little breakdown. While Hector didn’t fully trust him, he didn’t see a need to force anything else out of him. That would just be pointless. 

A cough caught Hector's attention. He turned back towards Emela, as she lowered her hand. “We should get going now,” she said, gesturing to Marcus and Delworth. “Remember what we talked about? You need to focus on your safety. If it gets rough, get out of there.” Emela gave a pointed look at Nyx. 

The girl nodded. They all then said their goodbye, the three leaving through the front of the brewery. Emela had agreed to walk Delworth and Marcus home before making her way back, so Hector wasn’t too worried about his weaker friend’s journey. 

“I’ll stay on watch. You should go join the other and cultivate, it's best your mind is prepared for what we may fight,” Nyx said. She then turned and walked over to one of the pillars. She leapt off the ground, scaling it effortlessly, before jumping onto the broken-down walls of the brewery and finding a place to sit deep in some shadows. 

I wonder if she’ll ever open up to anyone else. The way she sees the world must be quite interesting. But then again, maybe I just don’t know enough about her, so I’m filling in blanks that aren’t there. 

Hector turned away, crunching across the dirt and coming to a stop by a small pile of crates. He deliberated, climbing to the top of them. But after what happened to Lincoln, that seemed more than unnecessary. He spared a last glance at the Farmhand before sitting down in a meditative position. 

Nyx had been right; he needed to prepare. He glanced up at the fading sunlight. Its rays trickled into the room like curtains of light washing over the rotten wood that littered the place. He wouldn’t break through to the second level in the hours they had until the raid. But he could grab another Talent. 

Hector closed his eyes and fell into the Talent Garden. 

Once there, feet sloshing through the water, Hector made his way over to the three marble pedestals and sat down. It had been twenty-four hours already since he planted them, so he had another twenty-four to go. But with the fourfold boost he could give them, he should have another set by the time they need to leave. 

“Alright, I hope I can get something good. Because I’m going to need all the help, I can get.” Hector closed his eyes. A wave of calm washed over him, flowing deep through his bones like he was drinking a fresh glass of water. 

Then the mana flowed.

Hector sat, his mind clear, and focused. It was as peaceful as ever. Why couldn’t it always be like this? After some time, Hector's eyes flicked open. He looked up to find a system message blinking before him. 

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///: Talent sapling requires watering, do so before they perish. 

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Hector grunted as he got to his feet. He looked over the plants, raising an eyebrow. What was the system talking about? They looked as healthy as could be. But then again, what did he know? If they dropped dead, the next second, he’d be just as confused. 

Alright, I best get to it. It’s a miracle that you guys are still alive. 

He’d exceeded the recommended watering time by some hours. The timer suggested that the plants would probably die any minute, and he didn’t want to test that to see what it would look like. 

As Hector got to work, the sound of skittering echoed around the void. His back prickled, like there were thousands of ants running along it.

The rats were out again. Were they crawling over him? No, if they were, that would have pulled him out. 

But the idea of it. Their tiny, scale-like feet clambering over him as they took bits out of his skin. Hector's heart rattled in his chest. Even as the water ball formed above the plant, Hector's mind reeled with the thought. 

No, it’s fine. If anything happens, I’m sure Nyx will handle it. I just have to focus. I’m almost done. 

He’d been in here for three hours already. With three more, he’d be done and would have three new Talents to choose from. 

After a few minutes, Hector finished watering the last plant, water dripping from its leaves. A system message popped up before him.

He jerked and staggered back, resting a hand on his chest as he let out a breath. The skittering had stopped, but he was still a little on edge. 

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///: The system has met the requirement for another system upgrade. Please standby as it is initiated… (0%)

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With a smile, Hector pumped his fist. He’d done it—not for a lack of trying. Even so, he’d gotten another upgrade to his system. The last one had brought the Talent Garden. What would this one bring? 

Hector took a breath, and walked back over to the middle marble pedestal, reach down to the water, bracing himself on the bottom as he took a seat. He grunted, getting comfortable, as the cool liquid splashed over his lap. 

It had taken the last upgrade a while to complete. There was no timer on this one either, so who knew how long it was going to take? He shook his head, resting his hands on his knees. There was no point thinking about it—not until it was closer, anyway.

Closing his eyes, Hector fell back into a meditative state as time flowed by again. His mind drifting… and drifting… like a boat on a calm sea. 

An unknown amount of time later, a sharp tug, quick and forceful, pulled his mind back to the surface. His eyes snapped open, and he glanced up, smiling at what he found. It wasn’t a great haul, but it was good. Four Talents in total across all three plants. 

He pushed off the ground and climbed to his feet. The waters of his soul slicked off of him like it was a duck’s back. He stepped forward, his hand brushing across the first plant.

What would this one be? He would love for another one that could help him in his cultivation, but something that would be useful in the battle to come would also be good. 

The plant fell apart in a shower of gold, leaving two Talents floating in front of him. His eyes, wide with excitement, scanned over them both. He needed something good. It had to be something good. 

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///: Spark Capacitor (Common): Once every 6 hours, the user may activate this talent. Once active, the users’ legs are charged with energy, allowing them to move faster when running.

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///: Spark Capacitor (Common): Once every 6 hours, the user may activate this talent. Once active, the users’ legs are charged with energy, allowing them to move faster when running.

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Oh, boy. Two. I got two of the same… wait a minute, doesn’t this mean I can upgrade [Spark Capacitor] to Uncommon? Oh, this is perfect. 

Hector resisted the urge to jump as he waved his hands to the side to send the Talents away. He’d merge them in a second. First, he’d have to see what else he got from these plants. But what would a merged [Spark Capacitor] even make? 

He moved over to the next plant, brushing it with a finger and watching intently as it dispersed into a shower of golden flakes, leaving behind a single floating Talent. 

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///: Tracker’s Charm (Common): Once every six hours you can track a particular scent. You can tell how strong it is, allowing you to determine age, as well as the direction the scent you are tracking is going.

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His face fell. It was the same Talent he’d already sacrificed once before. He sighed; it was a good thing in a way. At least he now had a simple choice to make about which Talent he’d plant next. 

Hector flicked his hand to the side. The Talent shot off with a whoosh, joining the other two he’d picked a moment before. He then sloshed over to the last pedestal, taking deep breaths, and throwing glances at the two [Spark Capacitor] Talents. 

No matter what came out of this Talent tree, it would never be as good as an uncommon Talent. But then again, maybe it would be more useful. But somehow, Hector doubted that. He reached forward, brushing his finger across the plant’s surface, and it exploded into a shower of golden light. 

The Talnet floated silently in the air; its swirling surface giving off the characteristic white light of a common Talent. Hector focused on it. The system message popped up a second later. 

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///: Static Field (Common): (Passive) A constant electrical charge is maintained around the user, granting several buffs. 1. Enemies struggle to move around you because of the charge in the air. 2. You can flow through water with ease and suffer less in wet conditions. 3. Using metal weapons against the user becomes difficult as charges flow through it. 

Note: It can be willed on and off. 

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Okay. Maybe I was a little wrong. 

Chapter 57: (Interlude) How long will I have to tolerate these mortal pigs?

Hammond raised a hand, blocking the rays of the afternoon sun. He let out a sigh as he shielded his eyes and glanced around at the inhabitants of the Papyrus Quater. In a word, they were disgusting, little more than sad animals going about their pathetic lives. 

They paled in comparison to someone as chosen as him, someone as favoured as him. He glanced back at Marlon—a lucky one, indeed. Hammond had chosen him, after all. Hammond needed followers and their help to awaken the egg. 

The sacrifices would not gather themselves. “Why is it again we came to this dump of a quarter?” Hammond asked, cringing in disgust as one of the filthy animals stumbled out of a brothel. Such a pointless endeavour—but then again, most of the things these lesser creatures did were pointless. 

“We’ve been too active in the Sirius Quater lately,” Marlon said. His brown eyes shifted around as his short brown hair tussled in the wind. Hammond nodded. It was pointless to move when they’d found such a good feeding ground for the egg. 

But Marlon was sometimes right—not as much as Hammond, but it was enough to at least humour him. Besides, Marlon understood how important the egg was to their success, to Hammond’s greatness. He wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise that. He was a smart boy. 

Hammond’s gaze continued to wander as he waited for the guidance of the seed—a gift given to him by the egg. It gave him and his fellows power as long as they fed it. Hammond scowled as a beggar, teeth rotting out of his mouth, clamoured for spare coin. 

The seed did not respond, of course not. How could someone so pathetic have any potential for the egg to make use of? 

He would have been lucky to become the egg’s power, my power. But he can’t even serve as the runoff we sell those collar gang idiots. Perhaps I should end his suffering. He’d no doubt appreciate it. 

“I’m not picking up anything, Marlon,” Thomas, a fellow Farmhand and someone also lucky enough to be picked by Hammond, said. His head turned from side to side, a frown crossing his features. He’d taken to the eggs gift almost as well as Hammond himself. 

Though, that was a given as someone picked by him. Hammond had smiled when the egg had told him how much potential he had. Finally, someone had seen him for what he was. It had given him authority and kept him in its heart. Hammond scowled as a small child assisted a hanger-on. They, the old, occupied unnecessary space. 

When the egg hatched and bestowed upon him greatness that he could hardly imagine, all this would change. These pigs would finally become of some use and those hangers-on. He will get rid of them unless they prove useful to his growing kingdom. 

Hammond moved around the bustling quarter, the air slithering with the chatter of hapless mortals. The stink of the unwashed forced him to cover his nose a few times. He’d have cut them down right there if it wouldn’t have drawn too much attention. 

Marlon said they didn’t need any more of that, and Hammond saw the logic in it. The last thing he needed was to talk to the city guard. They’d accept any lie he told—they always did, but it would still be an annoyance. 

He stopped, his feet crushing a flower that lay on the cobblestone. The footfall of other ruined its wilted petals, shredded and torn. Flowers and other plants were the only beautiful thing about this world, and these pigs treated them like this. 

As he turned his head to ask Marlon what his plan was, a tight spike pulled at his chest. It didn’t hurt. The pain was dull and muted, more a call for attention than anything else. But Hammond listened. The seed’s pull was never to be ignored. 

He rested a hand on his chest, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. The seed hummed, urging him forward. He ambled forward; the pull growing as he did. “Hammond, do you feel that?” Thomas asked.

Hammond set his jaw and continued. He opened his eyes as the pull intensified, practically dragging him forward. He had no time for Thomas’ pointless question, someone with as much potential as him—of course, he could feel it. 

That is why you will never come close to my height, Thomas. Far too eager to question, you should just feel and follow. Nothing more, nothing less. 

A wave of energy rocked his body. It shook him, sending snakes of ecstasy lashing from his chest. The seed had found someone. The taste of honey pulled at his lips. Whoever the seed had found had a lot of potential indeed—far more than the last few. 

“Come on,” Hammond said, waving his hand forward. They need to stick close. He didn’t have time to get distracted. 

Hammond rushed forward, almost sprinting. He slammed into something, the force barely phasing him. A girl bounced off his stomach. He snarled and looked down as she scrambled around pathetically on the cobblestone, trying to get to her feet. 

“Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to,” she said, stumbling to her feet with a limp. Her dirty brown hair was a mess of dirt and sticks. Her ugly, weak smile drew attention to the various scars that ran along her features. 

“Did you not see me walking, you moron,” Hammond said, as the girl struggled to fix the cloth sack she used for clothes. Hammond scowled. She was an eyesore. “Get out of here, before I lose my patience, pig.” 

The girl nodded, limping away. Her pathetic form shaking as she did. What a waste of resources. Hammond turned, sniffing the air. The scent grew stronger. The seed inside him shook, and he smiled—they were getting close.  

A cart rattled by splashing dirt behind it as the donkey pulling it neighed. A woman pressed herself against one of the support beams, holding up the small porch of a brothel, making eyes at Hammond. Disgusting. He powered forward, shoes slapping against the stone. 

He strolled past the brothel and rounded the corner, the two other Farmhands trailing behind. The seed hummed in his chest. The pull grew as he stepped around the corner of the building. There, further in the alleyway, was a boy. 

His ginger hair clung to his forehead as he panted, arms resting on his knees. He spat. A glob of saliva smacked into the dirt. His head turned as he glanced towards Hammond. The boy frowned as the two other Farmhands rounded the corner. “Can I help you with something?” he asked, pushing off his knees and straightening his back. 

Hammond fought back the smile wrestling to break out across his lips. The seed’s pull softened in his chest but hummed subtly. He’d found the target. Hammond took a step forward, eyeing the boy, “What’s your name?” 

“Huh?” the boy said, taking a step back. Was he trying to run? Surely not—that would be stupid. He’d miss his chance to be more than the pig he was born as. 

“You heard me,” Hammond said, stopping before him. “What is your name? I have something for you that I think could very well change your life. Don’t you want to be important?” 

The boy glanced back. Hammond raised a brow. What was he looking for? He’d never make it out of the alleyway before Hammond could catch him, so what was the point? The boy turned back, his eyes narrowing. “No. I’m fine. I don’t need to be important.” 

You are more of a fool than I thought. But, luckily, it’s no longer up to you. 

Hammond smiled. His gaze flickered to the other two Farmhands beside him, and he nodded. He didn’t need to waste time anymore, not like the other day with that swine from the marketplace. Hammond was stronger now. 

He pulled on the seed. His legs kicked off the stone as he shot at the boy. This would be over quickly. Hammond’s hand whipped out, chopping for the boy’s neck. The boy staggered back as Hammond’s attack went wide. The ginger-haired boy turned to run. 

Too slow. Hammond shot forward, cobblestone cracking underfoot as he moved. He was on the boy in seconds, his hand chopping down. But Hammond's eyes went wide as the boy raised a hand, blocking it with a slap.

The ginger-haired boy used the momentum to push himself forward. 

“We’re meant to be doing this quietly,” Marlon yelled from behind. He was a fool. Hammond was stronger now. If he wanted something, all he had to do was take it. 

He pulled on the seed in his chest. It responded, energy bubbling at his back. It writhed underneath his skin, undulating with power. A sharp rip tore through the alleyway as Hammond continued to give chase to the boy. 

The seed had given him more power. A tentacle whipped at his back. It was like an extra limb; it was beautiful. The tentacle shot forward, wrapping around the boy’s arm and pulling him back with a sharp tug. He let out a scream. 

Hammond stepped to the side as the body moved past. With a smack, Hammond chopped his hand down onto the boy’s neck. He slammed into the cobblestone with a heavy thud. The fool shouldn’t have run. 

The ginger-haired boy, eyes closed, lay motionless, but the seed could still sense his potential. The boy wasn’t dead. “You didn’t have to do that,” Marlon said, shrinking back as the black tentacle whipped through the air. 

Hammond narrowed his eyes. He did what was best. He did what was right—how could someone as lowly as him understand? “You think you could have done better?” 

“No,” Marlon said, his feet scuffing across the dirt as he stepped back. “I just think you put us all at—”

“Shut up,” Hammon snapped, cutting him off. He took a step forward, leering at Marlon. The tentacle at Hammond’s back snaked forward, twitching as it moved towards the foolish idiot. “Just because I listen to you from time to time, don’t think that you can tell me what to do.” 

Marlon gulped, lowering his head. Towards the back of the alleyway, Thomas’ eyes seemed to almost glow as he watched. The boy kept his gaze on the tentacle—as he should. Hammond smiled. This proved his chosen status and his divine nature. At least one of these two idiots could see it. 

He had been too kind to these fools. Yes, he had given them power, but they had grown brave. Marlon's questioning of him proved that. He couldn’t have this happen again. He wouldn’t—from now on, it was time they knew their place in the dirt. 

Only he and the egg were to rule. These few Farmhands would be the lucky pigs that got to stand by his side. Hammond brushed past, slamming his elbow into Marlon as he walked by. He glanced to his side, looking at Marlon from the corner of his eye. “Pick the boy up. We are returning to the barn.”  

Marlon went to speak. Hammond's tentacle flinched. He wanted Marlon to talk, to give him a reason to put him in the dirt. He hadn’t reminded them of the tools they were, and with his seed growing in strength, he was itching to test it out. 

In the end, Marlon didn’t say a thing. He bent down and scooped the boy into his arms. Hammond tutted and turned around, walking past Thomas, who still kept his focus on the tentacle. 

Hammond smiled as he pulled the tentacle back into his body. 

It wasn’t the time for the world to see his greatness. But they would soon know of him. The egg would make sure of that. He would make sure of that. He was becoming perfection incarnate, and he couldn’t wait to be seen. 

A crunch came from beneath Hammond’s feet. He glanced down at the flower poking out from underneath his boots. It was still beautiful, but it was not like him. He’d attained something this small thing could never. 

Freedom… and he would never waste it. He walked forward, placing the flower in the back of his mind. They had found a perfect sacrifice, and the egg was waiting. Hammond glanced at the unconscious boy in Marlon’s arms and smiled. 

Chapter 56: Did he do what I think?

Hector turned his head to Lincoln and raised an eyebrow. What were they supposed to do here? If things had gone as planned, this guy would have spilt all the information he had rather than sitting here sobbing. Lincoln shook his head.

Marcus stepped forward and bent down, raising a hand to comfort the Farmhand. Hector reached out to stop him but decided against it. With everyone present, the boy couldn’t do much to hurt Marcus—not without suffering for it, anyway.

“What do you mean, you don’t remember?” Marcus asked, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. His lips budded into a soft smile as he tilted his head to meet the boy’s eyes. Why was he treating this guy like he wasn’t a murderer? Hector couldn’t understand—but then again, Marcus hadn’t seen the body.

“I—I don’t know,” the boy mumbled. A tear crawled down his cheek and splashed onto his torn robes. “It’s like I know what I want to say, but the moment I try, everything just leaves.” He sobbed, lowering his head into his bound hands.

How the hell does that work exactly? I mean, assuming he is telling the truth—which is a big if—how would that even work?

Marcus glanced up at Hector. What did he want him to do? It wasn’t like Hector knew what was going on. Hector sighed. “Well, he’s not as helpful as I’d hoped, but it kind of leads me into what I wanted to say.” He paused, knowing he had to say this right, or it could make things difficult.

“I want to rescue the people this guy and his friend have kidnapped,” he said. “We don’t know what’s going on, but I want to save them. I can’t have people dying while I sit here knowing I could do something about it,” he sighed, “though I’d be lying if I said that was the only reason.”

There was no way to say this next part and sound like a hero—not that he wanted to be one. It would only sour his proposition. “Lincoln and I also believe that they are making a profit somehow,” Hector continued, glancing at Lincoln, “and attacking the farm could help us gather the money we need to pay off my dad’s debt—and then some.”

Several cracks rang out around the brewery, followed by vicious squeaking. The group fell silent. The Farmhand’s sobs and the whipping wind snaking through the open roof were the only sounds.

Hector glanced at his friends—Marcus and Jodie. What were they thinking? And Emela and Nyx—had he stepped too far? Judging by their faces, Jodie’s lips pulled into a tight frown; the reaction was mixed.

“You absolute idiot, lying piece of dump trash,” Jodie yelled. She took a step forward, her shoes crunching on the wooden board beneath her feet. “We agreed, Hector. We bloody well agreed. And now you pull this.”

“Jodie—”

Her head snapped toward Lincoln, cutting off his words as fire burned behind her eyes. “Not another word, Lincoln—if you open your mouth before I’m done, you’ll be picking your teeth up off the ground.”

Lincoln shrank back, glancing at Hector. Hector held his gaze. He wasn’t about to say anything; that would only let the argument spiral, and they were already burning enough time.

Jodie flopped her head back, her ginger hair cascading over her shoulder, and she sighed. “Angry doesn’t even come close to what I’m feeling right now. I hate being treated like a fool. I’m not one. You brought us to the Hilda Festival,” she said, lowering her head. She met his gaze. “You brought us there knowing full well that you planned to go to the farm, anyway.”

“Jodie, no. That’s not what happened,” Hector said, narrowing his eyes at her. He’d never do that to them—never. It was just a coincidence. I was only being a good friend. He glanced over at Emela, who subtly shook her head, her eyes falling to the floor.

“Oh. It’s not,” Jodie continued. “Then, Hector, please enlighten us. What were you doing at that bloody farm when we agreed we wouldn’t go there—did you just trip and fall into the Hay Quarter?” she yelled.

Marcus got up and stepped in front of Jodie. “Calm down. I get that you’re angry, but it’s not helping. I’m sure there’s a good reason,” he said, turning to look back at Hector. Delwoth nodded along.

Hector sighed, dragging his hand down his face. The subtle taste of salt prickled at the tip of his tongue as he wet his cracked lips. “Lincoln said he had something to show me, so I went along—I owed him one.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Jodie said, scowling at Lincoln. The look in her eyes said it all—she still hadn’t gotten over yesterday. If anything, she was looking for an excuse to deck him. “And so what?” she snapped, turning back to Hector. “You just followed along, knowing full well where he was taking you.”

Hector’s gaze dropped to the floor. She wasn’t entirely wrong, but she wasn’t right either. At first, he really didn’t know what to expect, but as things unfolded, the signs became clear. He had an excuse—though it wasn’t one she’d like. “I was just being a good friend. I abandoned him yesterday, and I owed him.”

“You did, did you?” Jodie shook her head and turned away. She walked over to a pile of crates, swinging her leg back and then crashing her foot into them. The crates exploded in a shower of splinters as she let out a roar of anger.

Better the crates than Lincoln.

Emela stepped forward, glancing down at the Farmhand. The boy stared wide-eyed at Jodie, occasionally looking around as if to make sure he wasn’t the only one witnessing what was happening.

“I don’t care that you lied, Hector,” Emela said.

“I didn’t.”

“Sorry.” She coughed into her fist. “That you went to the farm,” she corrected, “but I’m more concerned about these demonic cultivators and what they’re doing. Shouldn’t we be taking this information to the guards?”

They all fell silent as Emela looked around in confusion. “What?” she asked, glancing at Hector. He could relate—he’d asked Lincoln the same thing in a moment of naivety. Nyx stepped forward—as usual—and whispered in her ear. “Ah, I see. Never mind,” Emela said.

Hector shook his head. They were getting a little off-topic. “I know you’re angry, and rightfully so, but Lincoln and I saw someone being dragged in there this morning. I want to save them, and I need your help, guys.”

“I’d love to help, I really would…” Emela said, glancing at one of the large windows of the decaying brewery. The window was mostly shattered—only a few panes clung to their frame while the rest lay scattered on the ground. “The sun is going down soon, and I have to leave. Nyx can stay, though.”

Emela gestured to the girl behind her. Nyx’s face fell—one of the first times Hector had seen any emotion from her. She grabbed Emela by the arm and led her away, the two of them walking toward the brewery’s entrance.

“So, you want to do this tonight?” Lincoln asked, scratching the back of his neck. He glanced over at Jodie. It would be an understatement to say that if they went tonight, things would be tense. But Jodie always put what was important first. Hector could count on that.

He nodded, glancing over at Emela and Nyx. “I hadn’t intended to, but the quicker we do this, the sooner we can put a stop to what they’re doing—and save whoever it was tonight before the worst happens.”

Lincoln nodded.

Marcus stepped over, Delworth a pace behind him. “We won’t be able to help with the task tonight. We aren’t fighters, after all,” he said, glancing down at the Farmhand, who sat between them. “I hope you can understand—it’s not that we don’t want to.”

“It’s all right, Marcus,” Hector said, resting a hand on his shoulder. Marcus was one of the few people Hector could count on to trust him, no matter what. That kind of loyalty was a luxury he didn’t have with many others—and any doubt would be a detriment.

I guess it will have to be me, Jodie, Lincoln, and hopefully Nyx tonight. It would be great to have the backing of someone in Gravity Forging Four.

He glanced over at Emela and Nyx, who were having a heated discussion in the corner—more a case of Emela talking at Nyx while the girl nodded.

“We can take the coins with us,” Marcus said. “I take it you guys will be heading straight there? We can hold on to them for safekeeping.”

Hector nodded at the suggestion. He was right—if they went home now, there would be a bunch of questions they wouldn’t have answers to. Who knew how long this would all take? And it wasn’t like they’d even split the earnings yet.

“Thanks, Marcus—though, about the split—”

“It’s all right. We didn’t know how much your dad’s debt is,” Marcus said, “but before you and Lincoln turned up—and before that gang arrived—we’d already agreed to give seventy percent to you. Emela even offered all of her remaining percentage to you.”

“She did,” Hector said, glancing back at her as she and Nyx continued to talk. He smiled. “It means a lot. I appreciate it,” he added, nodding at Jodie as she returned—noticeably calmer.

“Well, we couldn’t leave you out in the lurch,” she said. “Even though what you did was crappy, I know why,” she shot a glance at Lincoln, “and I understand. It’s just annoying, that’s all. I’m pissed, but I won’t hold it against you.”

“Thank you,” Hector muttered. He glanced at Lincoln, who gave him a weak smile. Hector held back a sigh. It had worked for the most part—and they were raiding the farm tonight—but something still itched at the back of his mind.

He had no evidence, but it was funny how Lincoln got what he wanted in the end, even after everyone had initially agreed. He couldn’t help but feel slightly used. Still, Lincoln couldn’t have known that Hector would abandon him—or that a situation would force him to.

Or did he? Hector turned his head, smiling at Emela as she walked back over with Nyx in tow—her face returning to its usual calm. His gaze then flickered over to Jodie and Marcus. They were all his friends, but did he put more stock in Lincoln than in the rest of them?

Perhaps sometimes he let himself get too swept up in the boy’s antics. He’d have to keep watch for that.

If Hector was honest with himself, he’d gotten swept up in a lot so far. In retrospect, the pickpocketing operation was stupid—it bordered on a get-rich-quick scheme that didn’t even go well.

A snap came from the back of the brewery as the wind swept through the building. Hector placed a hand on his chin and rubbed it. He needed to reassess their options. Once his dad’s debt was paid, he’d have to find a way to earn a reliable income.

He had a system and advantages that no one else in the world possessed. A cough brought him back to his thoughts. He glanced up to find Jodie gesturing to the tied-up Farmhand. “What are we going to do with him?”

That was a good question. Hector bent down and looked into the boy’s eyes. “You don’t want to go back to the farm, right?” The boy nodded, and Hector smiled. “Well, we’re going to need some information from you, then. For starters, why is your cultivation so high?”

The boy shuddered, his eyes falling to the floor. “I didn’t want to, but they said I had to take them. They said it would make me better than I was. They said it would make me great—more than just a pig.”

“Who said that to you?” Hector asked. The boy’s words gave him a hunch, but he needed confirmation.

A dull look passed over the boy’s eyes as he shook his head. “I can’t remember. I wish I could say.”

Hector sighed, clenching his fist. How were they making him forget? It was as if anything that might expose them or offer a clear, usable hint would simply slip from the boy’s mind—and that dull look that passed through his eyes.

The boy was either a phenomenal actor or something else was going on. “Can you at least say what they made you take? Is that how you got so strong?” Hector asked.

The boy nodded. “They gave me several Ham pills.” The Farmhand shivered as his gaze lowered to the dirt.

“These Ham pills—again—what do they have to do with the farm? Wait, don’t tell… He wouldn’t.” Hector clenched his fist and sighed as his body shook.

Chapter 55: Can you forgive something like that?

Hector’s eyes went wide as the tower leaned to the side. One of the wooden legs holding the tower up popped, sending wood spitting across the dirt before it split clean in half. The tankard groaned as it pitched forward.

A rush of wind accompanied its fall as Hector’s hair whipped around him; the tankard slammed into the floor, exploding into a shower of debris and large splinters of wood. The rotten smell of aged ale slithered through the air. 

Marcus gagged, leaning on Delworth, whose eyes were wide with wonder. Hector was not as impressed. A small tinge of annoyance bubbled in his chest. He clenched his fist, his head snapping to Lincoln. 

“What in the name of the great lake is wrong with you, Lincoln!” He yelled, his voice twinging. “Do you have any idea how old that is? It’s been here longer than any of us, and you did that to it.” Hector pointed a trembling finger at the ruins of the tankard.

“Sorry,” Lincoln said. His cheeks, quickly gathering dust, went red.

“Wasn’t it going to fall, anyway?” Delworth asked. He rested one hand on Marcus’ shoulder while using the other to rub his back. “Keep it in. You’ll become dehydrated if you throw up.” 

Marcus fanned his hand, taking deep breaths as he slowly turned towards Hector. “It should have fallen a long time ago. If anything, this place is slightly safer now. Why does it matter that it was old?” 

How can these two not see the history that has just been lost? Did they not care about the things that would? You know what, never mind. 

Hector set his jaw. Emela, standing next to him, shook her head with exasperation while Nyx, who stood just behind, was as calm as ever. It was sad, but what was done was done. No one else seemed to care about it. 

Jodie stalked over to Lincoln, crunching over wooden splinters—the old ones now joined with the new ones they had created. She snatched the large wooden plank from Lincoln. “Give me that, before you break the one good piece we’ve found, you idiot.” 

She moved it under her arms, her nails biting into its surface to secure it in her grip. It looked like someone trying to carry a foldable garden table, only with a lot more ease. 

“You know what, let’s just get the coins counted,” Hector said, massaging his forehead and gesturing to an open spot on the dirt. Jodie huffed, placing the plank on the floor as best she could without breaking it. 

“As I said outside, me and Lincoln also have something to talk about,” Hector said as they all gathered around the board. Lincoln gave Hector an appreciative nod. Not that he needed to. They’d already agreed on how this was going to go. 

“Not a problem, I hope,” Emela said, meeting Hector’s gaze. 

He shook his head, then reached for the pouches at his belt. His fingers played with the strings as he spared a glance at the pouches the others pulled out. There wasn’t as much as he’d thought there would be. 

Is this going to be enough? If it isn’t, Lincoln’s plan might be the only chance I have left. 

“Here’s ours,” Jodie said. Several small pouches thumped onto the wooden board. 

“And ours,” Emela said, throwing one pouch onto the board. It thumped with a clink. They mustn’t have had a good time of it. 

Hector resisted the urge to sigh.

Lincoln threw his down, and Hector threw his own. With four soft thuds, the pouches clinked next to each other. Hector couldn’t help it. A sigh passed through his lips. His head hung as he dropped to one knee and began opening the pouches.  

“I kinda had to do the actual taking part by myself,” Jodie said, crossing her arms. Hector raised an eyebrow and glanced up at her. She shrugged and gestured towards Delworth and Marcus. “These two were useless to the point of almost being a danger. Delworth even went up to someone and just asked if he could pickpocket them.” She shook her head and sighed. 

“It wasn’t that bad for us,” Emela said, jerking her head towards Nyx. “She did most of it if I’m honest. I didn’t really know what I was doing.” 

Makes sense. Somehow, I can’t imagine Emela actually doing much. I should have known she would struggle with that. I’m glad that Nyx was there. Then again—when isn’t Nyx nearby?  

Hector picked up the coin pouches, spilling their contents over the board. The coins bounced off each other with satisfying clinks. Hector raised a hand to his mouth, rubbing at his cheeks. It wasn’t looking good. 

Glancing up at each of them, he jerked his head at Lincoln. “It went well for us. Well, until the Phoenix company showed up. Then I had to save Mirae.” 

“What?” they all said in unison. Lincoln shrugged.

“Is she an Idiot? What was she doing, outside?” Jodie asked 

“Jodie!” Emela hissed. 

“What?” Jodie replied. “That was something stupid to do. I mean, didn’t you hear what he just said? The Phoenix company was there. They almost caught her.”

“It was the guards that almost caught her, actually,” Lincoln said, smiling at Jodie. 

Hector shot a glare at him. Did he need to aggravate her? As for what Jodie said, Hector couldn’t blame her. That was just how she was, and she didn’t exactly know why Mirae had left the stall. But he couldn’t exactly tell her. 

I don’t even know if I should tell them. I’m going to need to come up with a plausible excuse at some point. 

Hector picked up a silver coin off the board. The afternoon light flickered off it as he held it up in the air. He glanced back down at the board. There weren’t many of these. Most of them seemed to be bronze. It wasn’t looking good. 

He jolted—hadn’t he had another pouch? His hand shot to his waist as he fumbled for it. Where had he last—the shed!

You’re kidding me. I can’t believe that I left it in the damn shed. If I hadn’t gotten so worked up with Dad… oh no, Dad. What if he finds it? How am I going to explain this to him? I’m such an idiot. 

“Everything alright, Hector?” Emela asked, tilting her head to the side. She shifted on her feet as she regarded him. 

Hector nodded, his heart hammering in his chest. He let out a breath, feeling it as it left his lungs. He’d have to deal with that problem later. “It’s all fine. I’m just a little worried about the amount is all,” He said, glancing down at the rest of the coins. A crate clattered behind him, squeaking, followed. Hector shook his head; there were about seventeen silver coins. 

A bunch of bronze made up most of the pile. But they would hardly amount to much. Maybe one silver if he was lucky. 

“What do you mean?” She asked, crouching down to his level. A frown flickered across Nyx’s features, but Hector paid it no mind. Emela brushed a loose strand of pale blond hair behind her ear. “Do you not think this will be enough? How much more do you think you will need?” 

Hector shook his head, raising a hand and combing it through his white hair. “I don’t know,” he said, “but a lot more than this.” 

They all fell quiet. The sound of dripping water on some far-off wall filled the silence. Stale ale and the rancid smell of rotten wood drifted in, and Marcus’ nose scrunched as his face paled a little. 

I don’t know the size of my dad’s debt. But I doubt the collar gang would be this riled up over anything less than a couple of gold. So this seventeen, plus the three I got from the farmhand over there… It’s not gonna cut it. 

The boy lay against one of the large pillars that held up what remained of the brewery’s roof. He was still unconscious. At this point, Hector was a little worried he was in a coma, but he doubted it. That could only mean one thing. 

Well, I can deal with him after the count is done. It will tie in well with what me and Lincoln have to say—and probably smooth things over as well. 

The group had wordlessly agreed to talk about their hostage after the count. Hector was thankful for that. 

Lincoln’s plan might actually be the only way forward. I can’t believe this is what we’ve come to. Damn. 

The coins continued to clink in the silence. When Hector was done, he counted eighteen silver and thirty bronze. Two of those silvers were made up of bronze. It wasn’t looking good. 

“Alright then,” Hector said, climbing to his feet. He dusted off his knees and clapped the dust off his hands as they all focused on him. He gave Lincoln a sharp nod and moved over to the pillar where the Farmhand lay.

One more ride, then—shall we? 

Hector bent down, hefting the Farmhand over his shoulder and walked back over to the board. With a thud, he plopped the Farmhand onto the dirt, a little way from the board. Delworth got onto his knees and began scooping the coins into different bags.

Patting the Farmhand on the shoulder, Hector let out a breath. “As you can tell, this is a Farmhand. One that me and Lincoln borrowed…” 

“We kidnapped him,” Lincoln said. He puffed out his cheeks and rolled the air around inside them. 

“You what!?” Emela snapped. “I thought you just found him. What the have you done Hector?” 

Where would we just find an unconscious Farmhand? They aren’t wild berries.

Hector shook his head, meeting her eyes. “It was not without reason. If I didn’t need to take him with us, I wouldn’t have. Besides, once you hear what me and Lincoln have to say, you’ll understand.” 

A silence settled between the group. The caws of the crows outside, loud and piercing, pervaded the air. Jodie raised an eyebrow as she subtly shook her head. “Well then, go on.” 

Hector bent down and whispered into the Farmhand's ear. “You can drop the act. I know you’re awake. If you don’t, I’ll be forced to get physical…” 

“Hector,” Emela said in warning. He held up a hand—what he said and did were too different things, but this guy didn’t know that.

“One… Two…”

“Alright, alright.” The Farmhand’s eyes went wide as he looked around the group. His body shook when he spotted Hector from the corner of his eye. “I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me.” 

Well, this is a far cry from the guy who almost dropped Lincoln. I guess now that he is surrounded, that confidence has dropped. 

“This guy,” Hector said, pushing off the dirt and getting to his feet, “Was patrolling a barn that Lincoln and I believe could be involved in demonic cultivation.” He glanced at his friends; various reactions flittered across their faces. None of them were good. 

“You went to the farm?” Emela asked, frowning. “Didn’t you say you wouldn’t? What were you thinking?” 

“He was being a good friend,” Lincoln said. Emela shot him a look, daring him to say something else. He fell silent and hung his head. 

“I did, and I’m glad I did,” Hector said with a sigh. “It’s bad, guys. People are actually dying. Never mind the fact that we went to the farm.” 

Emela went to say something but paused. Her mouth fell open as her tongue rolled around her cheeks in disbelief, and she frowned. Hector shook his head. “Tell them,” he said, nudging the Farmhand with his foot.

The farmhand glanced up at Hector, his brows creasing in a frown. “I can’t,” he said, looking at his feet. “I don’t… I don’t know what you are talking about?” His face contorted with a look of confusion as he looked back up at Hector. 

“Now is not the time to be keeping secrets. We’ve seen the bodies,” Hector said. His fist clenched at his side—did this Farmhand take them for idiots? “How do you even explain your cultivation? Someone at your rank should not be Gravity Forging two.” 

The boy’s head fell, and he muttered something. Jodie raised an eyebrow to Hector, and he shrugged. With a sigh, the farmhand looked back up, his eyes shifting between them. “You’ve got to believe me. If I could say I would. It’s just that… when I think of…” His brow creased. A dull look briefly crossed through his eyes. “When I think of it, I can’t remember a thing, but one thing I know is. That place is horrifying. I can’t go back. Please, you’ve got to help me.” 

The boy sobbed softly into his bound hands. Hector looked at his friends. What was going on with this guy? Did he want them to feel sorry for him? He had to be joking, right?

Chapter 54: What do you fear?

Hector stood across from the man, studying his features. The reddened eyes—borderline bleeding if they any got worse, and the man’s blackened veins that trailed up his neck like vines. They pulsated underneath his skin like a colony of worms digging through his flesh. 

A bird called overhead, its cry shrill and grating. Hector's eyes flickered to the knife in the man’s grip. The blade was short, its edge sharp. Not something a normal slum dweller would have access to—If they were lucky, a sharpened metal rod would be all they’d get. This man was not ordinary.

But then, what was he doing here? Perhaps a mercenary that couldn’t quite cut it in the wilds. So, he pathetically, he came to the slums to carve out a small slice of pie with his meager resources. 

It didn’t matter in the end. 

He’s working with the Collar gang. Or at least he’s buying from them, while that doesn’t make him guilty. It’s still a little annoying. But I’m not going to lose control again. I can’t afford to, especially not now. 

The man charged forward, teeth bared and knife held at his side. In his blind rage, he cut the distance between him and Hector in an instant. The knife slashed through the air with a sharp hiss. 

Hector jerked to the side, narrowly avoiding the blade. But another slash angled for his throat. He dived out of the way, rolling on his shoulder and hopping to his feet. He swivelled, dodging to the side as the knife cut through where he’d stood seconds before. 

He couldn’t keep dodging. His chest heaved as his lungs burned. But unlike him, the man appeared unfazed, the rage in his eyes not dying down one bit. If anything, it grew. 

Another hiss through the air, and another dodge. Hector stumbled to the side, his chest rising and falling. He could smell the opportunity coming. With each swing, the man left himself that much more open, as rage built. 

“Is that all you can do, boy? Run. Run and hide. You’re weak,” the man roared, charging at Hector. 

And there it was. Hector charged forward, reaching into his mind and pulling on the thrum of power that waited within. Electrical energy buzzed down his leg, snaking through his muscles like lighting as he activated [Spark Capacitor].

His legs blurred, the world almost shifting by as he shot past the man, circling around his back. He stepped to the side as the man spun, slicing the blade along with him, its edge biting into Hector's arm, cutting a layer of flesh. 

But Hector bit back the pain. It was a necessary sacrifice. 

Hector’s leg whipped up, even as the leather-bound man’s arm continued past. He then slammed his heel down, cracking it onto the man’s collarbone—just above the armour—with a crunch, staggering him. As the man stumbled back, Hector reached forward and grabbed his wrist, twisting. 

The knife slipped free. Hector ducked under the man’s arm, snatching it from the air. Leaping off the ground, he twisted and kicked backwards. His foot crunched into the man’s nose. 

He staggered again. Hector was on him in moments, propelled by the electricity buzzing through his legs. He slammed the butt of the knife onto the man’s head with a crunch, then lept into the air, slamming his heels with two quick thuds into the man’s chest. 

The blows took the man off his feet, sending him slamming into the cobblestone. Crows called overhead. He didn’t get back up. 

Hector lowered his stance and waited. But, nothing happened. Mummer came from behind him. No one moved. 

“I-Is he dead?” Marcus asked. It was a good question, but not one Hector was about to check himself. 

A man, hair brown and scruffy, stumbled forward. He had a lazy eye that drifted to the side as he shakily walked over to his leader. He glanced at Hector, but shrank back as he made eye contact. Was he that scary? 

I suppose they just watched me dispatch someone they feared. And if I can do that to him, they are probably wondering what I can do to them. Though some of them should know that already. 

Hector turned his head, gazing back at the crowd. The John—the bearded man—had slinked off at some point. Perhaps he could see where this was going and didn’t want to stay for another beating. Not that Hector had planned to hurt him. 

Emela stepped forward, Nyx a pace behind. “That was a splendid fight. You handled yourself well,” she said. Her eyes flickering to the knife in his grasp, a flash of emotion passed through them. “I take it you are going to be keeping that?” 

Hector held the knife up, its blade glinting in the afternoon rays. It was a splendid make—as far as his slum self was concerned. Back on earth, it would probably need to be sharpened for a good three days. 

“I think I will,” He said, lowering the knife.

A sigh of relief caught his attention. He looked over to the lazy-eyed man, who knelt next to his leader, with a small smile. “He’s just unconscious,” the man said. “A pill or two when he wakes up should do the trick.” 

Hector stepped over, squinting down at the man. “I’ll be taking this,” he said, holding the knife up, “and the holster. Also, mind if I see this pill you are talking about.” 

The leather-bound man had been enraged by something. Hector had a strong hunch that it was the Ham pills that the man had mentioned earlier. If that was the case, he could take one too. 

The lazy-eyed man looked from him to the crowd behind. He gulped, a trickle of sweat crawling down the side of his brow. The man’s eyes lingered on the crowd for a moment, his eyes seemingly pleading for someone to help. 

“B-But you only wanted the brewery. You said we could leave if we lost,” he said. The man’s body shook. It was as if each word had taken some strength to say. 

“Hector, I’d advise against using those pills,” Emela said, brushing one of her two ponytails over her shoulder. “If that’s what it does to someone, you would be a fool to take it.” 

“S-She’s right,” the lazy-eyed man stammered. 

Well, I have something he doesn’t, so I’d be more than fine. Not like I’m going to tell them that, though. 

“I just want to see it all. It’s better to know what these things look like,” Hector said. He gestured to the holster with his eyes, and the lazy-eyed man began undoing it. “So?” 

As the man lazy-eyed man went to speak, a roar came from behind. The bearded man slammed through the crowd, throwing Delworth to the side like a slab of meat, and lunging toward Hector with a long sharpened wooden rod. 

Its tip glinted in the sun. But before the man could close the distance, Lincoln was there. His legs swept out, taking the bearded man off his feet. Even as the man fell, Lincoln spun and plucked the rod from his hand. 

He whipped his leg up, and with a crack, slammed his heel into the man’s back, causing the man to bounce off the cobblestone with a thud. Flopping still a moment later, and lay unmoving. 

“Well. I’ll give him that. He’s kind of brave, don’t you think?” Lincoln looked around the crowd with an expectant eye. 

A few of the men let out mummers of agreement, more out of fear than anything. Hector shook his head. The man had been crushed twice today. Hopefully, this lesson would stick. 

“So, about my pills,” Hector said, turning his head back to the lazy-eyed man. He held the holster up with shaky hands, eyes darting around. He wanted to run. Hector couldn’t blame him. It really wasn’t their day. 

“Y-Yes,” He said, as Hector took the holster from him. The man then placed a shaky hand into his breast pocket and pulled out three black pills. Their surface swirled with red lines, like little red snakes swimming through blacked water. “This is all I have.” 

That’s all you have, but what about everybody else? But no, I don’t know whether these pills will work with my Talent. So there is no point hoarding a bunch. 

Hector plucked the pills from the man’s hand, and slipped them into his trouser pocket. He then secured the holster around his waist, moving the coin pouches to the side as he slid the holster’s strap above the rope that held his trousers in place. 

“You know, you can all leave now?” He said, raising a questioning brow at the small crowd of gang members that continued to watch. 

At his words, they all burst into motion. Some slipped into the alleyways, not looking back while others, picked up their leader and the bearded man. Hobbling into the back alleys like defeated dogs.

“What are you planning to do with those?” Lincoln asked, gesturing his head toward Hector's pocket as he stepped over. 

“I don’t know yet. I just wanted to see them at first. But now I think I might sell them. Who knows,” Hector said. Though he didn’t fully commit himself to that plan. He’d seen what it could do to a person. He didn’t want to be the one to put that kind of burden on them. 

“You’d better not take that,” Jodie said, crossing her arm. “I won’t be able to take you as a serious rival if you use cheap methods that drive you insane. It’s pathetic.” 

Hector chuckled. Marcus grunted as he helped Delworth to his feet, the boy not minding at all that he’d been thrown to the side. Hector shrugged and turned his head towards the brewery. There was no point fussing over Delworth. The boy hadn’t even reacted much when his arm was broken.

The large, heavy wooden doors to the abandoned brewery loomed in front of them. Its surface was chipped and splintered. One-half of the doors looked like they would crumble. The termite-infested surface wanted to fall at any minute. 

But that could be said for most houses in the slums. “Alright,” Hector said, turning his head back to the group. “Let’s count up the festival earnings. Me and Lincoln also have something to discuss.” 

—

The group walked into the abandoned brewery. Their footsteps bouncing off the decayed walls and echoing off into the sky. Dust drifted through the air, lazy and calm. Stirred only by the movement of people as they walked by. 

Large rotting beams held up what remaind of the roof, though many of them held up nothing at all. While others lay broken, and cracked across the floor toward the back of the brewery, termites infesting their corpses. 

Time had not been kind to this building. And yet it still stood. The walls, while rotting, still stood. The beams while corroding still stood. It was a testament to the effort put into by the builders. 

“This place is terrible.” 

Hector head snapped to Delworth. The boy looked around, scoffing as he patted dust off of the arm of his blazer. Not one ounce of reverence in his eyes. Did he not see how crazy it was that this place was even standing? 

“Yeah, it’s bad. It probably should have been knocked down a while ago,” Marcus said, nodding. The boy held his hands close to his chest, careful not to touch anything. He was like a clean freak walking through a trash pile. 

Some people just don’t know how to appreciate a good thing. Not that I can blame them. If either of these two had been near the dump, they would probably collapse. 

Jodie, shaking her head, stepped past Hector. “We need something to count on. Look for a table or something.” Near one of the large beams that held up the roof was a cluster of boxes. Jodie, noticing them, grabbed one, pulling it free with a crack. 

The box fell apart in her hand. Wood chunks splintered to the dirt, crumbling into a pile on her feet. A rat scooted by, its skinny legs skittering across the floor as it dived into a shadow. Hector shook his head, turning his head and smiling at Emela. 

She nodded, letting out a small chuckle. She no doubt understood the beauty of the building, and the time it had weather. Plus with her uncanny ability to stay clean, a bit of dust wouldn’t bother her. 

A sharp crack came from the side wall. Hector's head snapped towards the sound. Lincoln, with a bright smile on his face, crashed through box after box as he skipped down a stack of them. How had he even gotten up there? 

With a final faint thump, Lincoln landed on his feet at the base of the stack. Wooden splinters and dust swirled all around as he gripped a sturdy large plank of wood above his head. 

“I found something,” he said. A proud look adorning his features. 

Hector's eyes went wide. A sturdier-looking crate tumbled behind Lincoln, down the now pile of broken wood. Crunching as it went, before slamming into one of the large wooden brewing towers that ran along the wall, hitting it like it was a bowling pin.

Wood grounded as Hector tensed. 

Chapter 53: Do you actually know how to fight?

A cool wind subtly blew by Hector’s neck, ruffling his white hair. He bounced the Farmhand on his shoulder. Eyes scanning the area. 

How had the man got here before them? Did they somehow work out which direction they were going in and plan ahead? That was a lot of foresight, and from their short meeting, Hector assumed that it wasn’t something the bearded man could do. 

But what did this leather-bound man gain from being here? He can’t just want to help an ally, gangs weren’t typically that close. System scan him. 

————————————————

///: Acquiring target stats…

————————————————

/// 

Cultivation level: [Gravity Forging - 2]

Talent: [None]

Talent Fragment: [None]

/// 

————————————————

“Mana Cultivator,” Hector mumbled under his breath. He threw a glance at Lincoln. The boy shrugged. Hector sighed. “Well, we knew this could happen when he got away. And it’s only—”

Lincoln’s finger shot up, pressing them against his lips, shushing Hector. “Last time we said that, a bunch of the poured out of nowhere. We shouldn’t jinx it.” 

How superstitious. Next, he’s going to blame it on the underwear that he’s wearing.

Hector adjusted the Farmhand on his shoulder and walked forward. “Come on then. There is no point in delaying it. Besides, who knows? It might not turn into a fight.” 

Lincoln rolled his eyes and followed behind—so much doubt.

Hector walked over. The afternoon sun had slowly begun its descent. The old abandoned brewery drew long shadows, sticking to the houses that made up this back street. 

One man from the group looked over and frowned, tapping the person next to him on the shoulder. The person also frowned and did the same next to him until it reached the leather-bound man. 

“Ah, great, more people have turned up. What is this, a children’s home?” He said, resting one hand on his hip. The man brought a finger to his mouth and picked at something. “Are these more friends of yours?”

Jodie turned as the man gestured behind her. That was a mistake, which thankfully the man didn’t use to sneak a punch. “Hector, Lincoln,” she said, a smile blooming on her face. It faded as her eyes locked onto Hector's shoulder. “Who’s that?” 

Well, this is going to be fun to explain. But it seems like I’ll at least have some time to figure it out. 

“I’ll tell you, in a sec,” Hector said, stopping just behind her. Standing next to a side wall, looking rather bored, Emela and Nyx watched on. Hector waved at them. 

Emela waved back, pushing off the wall and making her way over, Nyx following behind. 

The leather-bound man flinched as they approached, reflexively taking a slight step back. Most seemed not to notice, but it was clear as day to Hector. The man had some experience. At the very least, he knew these two were stronger than him. 

“So, what’s going on here?” Hector said, crunching a piece of glass beneath his sandals, as he bounced the Farmhand to a comfortable position on his shoulder. 

“These guys told us we have to pay up. Or leave.” Jodie said, her head snapping towards the man. Her eyes were fierce and filled with accusation. “But I told him you can’t just claim this place.” 

I mean, there is no rule saying they can’t.

From the corner of his eye, Hector watched as the bearded man hobbled over and whispered something into the leather-bound man’s ear. The man’s face contorted into a sneer and he locked eyes with Hector. 

“You are the one that ambushed John and his boys. Brave,” the leather-bound man said, shaking his head. He tapped the bearded man’s—John—shoulder and shoved him back in line. “What were you looking to take my supply of Ham?” 

Huh. While that sounds like it would be really good to eat. I wouldn’t even have anywhere to keep it. I don’t have a freezing array. 

The man must have found the look on his face unconvincing as he sneered. “These Ham pills are hard to come by. Very few people can hold deals with the Collar gang like we do. So I would back off unless you want trouble on your head.” The man’s eyes flickered to Emela and Nyx. 

“Huh? I thought you were talking about meat.” Lincoln said, scratching the back of his neck. 

Marcus shook his head. He brought a finger to his lip in thought and nodded, seemingly figuring something out. “I’d heard a customer mention it the other day in my dad’s store. It’s apparently a pill that’s really good for increasing your cultivation, but it’s hard to get, and only a desperate idiot would take it.” Delworth nodded in agreement. 

Marcus flinched back as he noticed the glare from the leather-bound man. “Watch what you say, twerp. I’m going easy on you.” 

Ah, the Collar gang. Why am I not surprised? I wonder how Marcus’ dad is doing. I’ll have to ask him when this farce is done. 

“It was self-defence,” He glanced at John, “I didn’t attack you,” Hector said, resting the Farmhand down on the floor. Thankfully, this time it was relatively clean. He stepped in front of the leather-bound man. “We aren’t going to pay you. So you can get lost or…” Hector threw a gaze at John. 

“You got a big mouth twerp,” the leather-bound man said, cracking his knuckles. He threw a quick look at John. Wetting his lips. “You attacked someone, under my protection, at that won’t slide. He tells me you're a cultivator. So how about a spar? You win. We get out of your way. But if I win, you leave all your valuables behind.”

Ah crap, we are carrying the loot from the festival. Dammit. But you know what? It should be fine. I’ll just… 

“The ladies can’t fight,” the leather-bound man said, interrupting Hector’s thoughts. “I’m a gentleman, you see.”  

Hector resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Did he take them for fools? He just didn’t want to get stomped out by Emela or Nyx. Coward. 

“Alright,” Hector said, shaking his head. He dusted off his hands—not that they were really dirty and gestured to the side. “I don’t mind. It’s just a spar. As long as you stick to your word, that is.” 

The leather-bound man and John shared a glance. “Don’t worry, I’m well-respected and a man of my word.” Sniggers erupted from his men. “Shut it, you idiots. You wouldn’t recognise class if it hit you over the head.” 

The man waved a bejewelled hand dismissively and followed Hector into an open space. They stopped a few feet from the group, facing each other. 

“So any rules for this spar?” Hector asked. 

“I’d imagine no weapons since it is only a spar,” Emela said, stepping in between Jodie and Lincoln. A window, in one of the houses that made up this back, street slammed shut. Emela didn’t blink. “But that’s just a suggestion.” 

“No. Nothing like that,” the man said. He gave her a strained smile before turning back to Hector. “All I ask is that no one else gets involved. We would want this turning into an all-out brawl.” He gave Hector a toothy smile. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Delworth asked Marcus. 

Marcus shrugged, glancing between Emela and the man. 

“I’m game,” Hector said. The man was up to something, but whatever it was. Hector was pretty sure he could handle it. 

If he plans to ambush me with another wooden stick. He will be in for a rude awakening. I should have kept the stick I used on those other guys. Damn.

“So,” the man said, combing his fingers through his brown short hair. “Are you ready to get this show on the road?” 

I should feel him out first. If this guy is or was a mercenary, he’s not going to be easy to deal with. Especially given I’m a minor realm in cultivation behind. So a warm-up it is. 

“More than ready,” Hector said, dragging his tongue across his bottom lip. 

A subtle breeze blew through ruffling their clothes, and when it stopped the two of them cracked forward like a whip, kicking up loose chunks of stone. 

Hector threw two quick jabs, one at the gut. Blocked. And one at the liver. Blocked. The man smiled, snapping a fist towards Hector’s side. 

It was a faint. No point blocking, Hector could practically smell him gearing up for the second one. He took a step back, sucking in his stomach, eyeing the man’s other fist. Which proved to be wise. 

It whistled forward. Hector ducked underneath the blow. He stepped forward, jerking away from the man’s elbow, arriving at his side. Hector jabbed a fist into the man’s rib, the blow thudding against his armour. 

The man let out a roar and spun wildly. Hector jumped back. It was a good hit, but not where he’d wanted it. Just a bit lower and he would have hit the less guarded area. The man seemed to know this. 

“You’re good,” He snarled.

And you aren’t nearly as tough as I thought.  

Hector darted forward, sweeping under a jab and blocking a kick. He stepped back; the man raining blow after blow on Hector's raised forearms. The fight intensity had increased. Hector ducked, sweeping his leg out to hook the man’s ankle. 

He jumped. 

Hector smiled. Power exploded through his legs. He snapped up, fist slamming straight into the man's gut, knocking him back. But the man, not even flinching, shot back at Hector, like a boomerang. Slamming his knee forward. 

Hector crossed his arm. Pain exploded, like a wave of heat as he staggered back, crunching stone beneath his sandals. Even as he steadied himself, the man was at his side. He swung a jab. Hector dodged, slipping away like a hot knife through butter.

Veins on the man’s neck, black and pulsating, bulged as his eye became slightly red. Hector drew in a sharp breath. What was going on here? He’d heard of people getting too into a fight, but this was a bit too much. 

His movements are becoming a lot more aggressive. A little erratic even. I should draw him in more; with that rage, I doubt he’s going to be thinking too clearly. But something is wrong; I’ll need to end this soon. 

Hector shot forward, the man following suit. He swung, going high. So Hector slipped to the side, jerking out of the way as the man clawed at him. He drew a sharp breath and channelled the Orion Fist technique. 

Fist after fist, rained down onto the man’s shoulder, back, and rib, peppering it with low thuds. Most were blocked by the leather, but not all. The man let out a roar, slipping past one of Hector's blows. 

He slammed forward with his shoulder. 

Pain exploded through Hector's chest. His feet left the floor, then air was forced out of his lungs as he smacked his back onto the cobblestone. He’d perhaps drawn him in a bit too close. 

The man let out a roar. Saliva trickled from the side of his mouth as his head snapped down and his eyes locked onto Hector. 

“He hasn’t fully digested the pills,” a voice mumbled from the side. Hector couldn’t spare the time to see who had said that—and it didn’t really matter. 

Hector resisted the urge to laugh. It made sense why Marcus said they were desperate idiots. 

Hector jumped to his feet and leapt to the side, slamming onto his shoulder as he rolled out of the way. The leather-bound man tore past, skidding to a stop and charging at him again. 

The air whistled as his hand swiped by Hector’s head. The man’s fist shot forward and slammed straight into Hector's gut. But the expected pain didn’t come. Instead, a tug pulled at the back of Hector's mind. [Hearty Body] had activated. 

Leaping back, narrowly evading a grab for his throat, Hector skidded across the stone. Watching as a cruel smile spread across the leather-bound man's lips. His hand slipped to a holster at his side and, with a click, he pulled free a small knife. 

Well, I can’t say I’m too surprised. Though, this gives me a way to end things quickly. 

Chapter 52: Where are we going again?

————————————————

///: “No Talent has been found on any of the targets”

————————————————

Hector sighed, stepping next to Lincoln and scratching his cheek. The group of men gathered in front of them forming a circle, with the bearded man at the front. Flapping gently on the clothesline, the blankets shook as a light breeze rolled in. 

Eight men in total—it would be a nice even split. Lincoln would take four, He’d take four. While they had more muscle than the average slum dweller, they wouldn’t be much of a threat, providing something didn’t happen. 

Lincoln nodded to him, then turned back to the man. “You don’t want to do this, friend. We are Mana Cultivators. This won’t end well for you.” 

The man let out a rancorous laugh, gripping his stomach as his meaty fingers rubbed dirt along his shirt. “Children like you wouldn’t be a match for us, even if you are cultivators,” a cruel smile spread across his lips. “We’ve had experience.” 

What the hell does that mean? Have they just been attacking untrained cultivators? 

Hector glanced around at the men that stood in the courtyard. Had they attacked unwitting children in the past? Had they attacked his fellow disciples? He’d heard nothing about that. 

“Alright, you clearly want to talk this out,” the bearded man said. “But I would rather search you, make sure you aren’t hiding anything. Lads, grab them and pick up the sleeping one. If nothing else, he could make some good cannon fodder.” 

The men stalked forward on his command.

I should give Lincoln the slightly bigger fish this time. It’s only fair.

“I take the right. You take the left,” Hector whispered to Lincoln. Sizing up the four on his right. At least they took them seriously—sending one or two would have just been an insult.

Lincoln nodded, swiping his thumb across his nose. “Try not to hurt them too badly. We don’t need another Adrian situation.”

Oh, come on. That was a bad day. I’m not some psychopath. At least I don’t think I am. 

Kicking up loose rocks, Lincoln shot forward, charging towards the four men—including their bearded leader—on his left, who went wide-eyed. 

Not to be outdone, Hector shot forward. He closed the distance in an instant, leaping off the stone and slamming forward with a double kick. The first man raised his arms, crossing them for a block. 

Hector slipped past, slamming one heel into the man’s chest, twisting and swiping the other foot across his jaw. With a snap, the man flopped to the side like a sack of potatoes and bounced off the cobblestone. Though Hector didn’t get to appreciate his work for long. 

The second man tackled forward, his shoulder slamming into Hector’s gut, knocking the air from his lungs. Slamming him onto the cobblestone, the man reeled back and threw jab after jab. Hector braced his arms, blocking each blow. 

Well, this is getting a little annoying. 

Hector made out the third and fourth men, both holding long sticks in their hand. Were weapons really necessary? Though they were fighting cultivators. So it made sense that they’d want some advantage. 

Pulling on [Quickening Brace] time slowed to a crawl. Those men were going to start pummeling the moment the one on top of him gave them the opening. That wouldn’t be too good—at least not for Hector. 

Well. I was never one to play fair. 

He jabbed out at the man’s throat, crunching into it as time snapped back into motion. Hector’s fist then cracked across the man’s jaw, sending the man reeling, as Hector lashed out with two kicks. One to the gut of the third and one to the hand of the fourth. 

The rod fell from the fourth's hand, spinning through the air. Hector snatched it as he pushed off the stone and leapt to his feet. His body moving faster than he could think. 

With a dull crack, he brought the rod down onto the head of the fourth man. Spun and ducked. The third man's stick swung wide, causing the man to stumble forward. Hector moved in a blur. 

He slammed the butt of the rod into the man’s gut, causing the man to wince. As he bent over, Hector’s knee was there, cracking into his nose, crushing it and sending the man flopping back, slamming onto the cobblestone like a slab of meat.  

Spinning again, he swung his rod, cracking it across the head of the fourth. Sending him crumbling to the ground—nothing more than a pile of splayed-out limbs. Hector spared the second man a glance as the man clung to his throat, trying to breathe. 

Stepping over, Hector whipped his foot up and slammed his heel into the man’s head, knocking him unconscious. The first man lay still on the floor, so Hector turned to Lincoln, who held the bearded man by his very beard. The other three men lay unconscious, scattered around him. 

On his knees, the bearded man’s eyes were wide with terror as he stared at Lincoln. “You should have listened to me,” Lincoln said, with a carefree smile. “Let this be a lesson. Just because you can beat one Gravity Forging realm cultivator doesn’t mean you should challenge everyone you come across. Some of us pack more of a punch than others.” 

The man took his eyes off Lincoln for a moment to look at the surroundings, but as he did, Lincoln’s hand whipped out. It cracked into the side of the man’s neck, knocking him unconscious. Lincoln then threw the man to the side, thudding him onto the wet stone. 

He’d landed right in the brown river. Hector cringed slightly as it flowed through the man’s beard. 

“I gotta say, I was a little excited,” Lincoln said, patting Hector on his shoulder. “When they said they’d fought cultivators in the past, I thought this would have been a challenge. But it was only so so.” 

Hector regarded the fallen gangsters and shook his head. Who had they attacked in the past? Whoever it was would probably not bring it up. It was rather embarrassing to be beaten by a mortal, especially if you were part of a dojo. 

Though I don’t see why. There isn’t much you can do when you get ganged up on. For most people, anyway.

“They must have gotten lucky,” Hector said, “Though that’s what we are assuming. Not everyone is like us.” 

“Is that a little pride I hear from Kamble’s star pupil?” Lincoln said, letting out a laugh. “Either way, we should get going.”

Hector nodded. The Farmhand was still out cold against the wall. Part of Hector wondered if he was faking—but what would be the point of that?

He bent down and scooped him over his shoulder, adjusting him to make sure he didn’t fall off. Hector scrunched his nose as an unspeakable stink crawled up it. A rat scurried by, splashing through thick black puddles and darting out of sight. 

They needed to find somewhere better to put this guy when they placed him down. It should have been bearable, but somehow the smell was getting worse. 

“Oi,” Lincoln called. 

Hector turned, ducking under a blanket and frowning as Lincoln stood in the middle of the courtyard, shaking his head. “What, happened?” Hector asked, adjusting the Farmhand on his shoulder.

“The idiot wasn’t as knocked out as I’d thought he was,” Lincoln said, biting his lower lip. A look of annoyance flashed across his features. “And he’d held his face in the crap river for so long. How did he do that without gagging?” 

Hector's gaze snapped to where the bearded man had once been. So he wasn’t unconscious. “Did you hold back or something?” Hector asked, stepping next to Lincoln, his gaze lingering on the direction the bearded man had fled. 

“No, I hit him good and proper. He must have had a thicker skull than I’d realised.” Lincoln said, shaking his head. 

“Well, it's not our problem anymore,” Hector shrugged his free shoulder. “Which way is it now?” 

“No, but it is our problem. Guys like that will definitely want revenge.” Lincoln dragged a blanket out of the way as he headed down an alleyway. Hector was close behind. “Now, if he’d stayed on the ground, that could have shown that he didn’t want any more trouble. But as it is, he could be watching us. Or have someone else watch us while he goes and gets reinforcements.” 

Hector stepped over another small river running across the alleyway, this time filled with black liquid rather than brown. “You think he’ll come back for another beating?” 

Lincoln glanced back and nodded. “Idiots like him always do.” Lincoln waved his hand dismissively in the air. “You would know this if you left your house and spent more time in the streets. Like me.” 

“I love you, Lincoln,” Hector said, smirking, “But when it comes to life choices, I think I’ll stick to my gut. I mean, how often is it that you miss practice at the dojo?” 

Lincoln fell silent and hopped over a collapsed crate. Laughing, Hector shook his head.  

“Besides,” Hector said, throwing a glance over his shoulder. The alleyway was quiet. A dull noise from the central street flittered in, but nothing but dripping of rotten liquids, and the smell of filth greeted it. “We can just keep our heads on a swivel. If we spot anything suspicious, we can deal with it when it pops up.” 

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Lincoln said, falling in line with him. The boy threw a glance over his shoulder. “I don’t think he’ll catch up for a while. So I’d say keep an eye on the windows.” 

Hector glanced up at the houses and their open windows. Many of them were open—only the heavens knew how, with the stink of this place. It was worse than Digby Street. He adjusted the Farmhand on his shoulder. 

In one window a young woman sat, with her cheek resting on her palm, her thin arm propped up on the window frame. She didn’t look like she was watching them, just staring out at the world—if she was anything like the average slum dweller, she was waiting for the hunger to end. 

The two of them continued to walk through the winding alleyways, occasionally backtracking to make sure they weren’t being followed. Lincoln and Hector shared very few words during this time. They had wordlessly come to the agreement that it was better to stay focused on not bringing too much trouble down onto their heads. 

Hector and Lincoln did swap from time to time. With Lincoln hoisting the Farmhand over his shoulder and looking rather uncomfortable doing it. But in the end, he’d said he didn’t want Hector doing all the work, and Hector was more than happy to let him help.

They had to stop at one point. Some hooligan decided that the afternoon was a good time to try to rob someone in a dark alley—though Hector couldn’t say the man wasn’t an opportunist. 

He just picked the wrong time. 

Hector gave the mugger a dirt nap and sent the victim swiftly on his way. The delay was minimal, with little fanfare. They kept their eyes about them until they pulled up to the end of the last alleyway. 

Hector watched as Lincoln paused, resting a hand on the tattered stone of a house. He braced against it, looking back at Hector. “Well, this is it.” 

Hector sighed, adjusting the Farmhand on his shoulder as he took in the sight outside of the alleyway. A large, decrepit building loomed tall in front of him. The old brewery. Its roof was partially collapsed, ravaged by time. Large wooden tankards aged and rotted poked through the side of it. 

“Took us long enough,” Hector said, stepping next to Lincoln. “Do you think—”

“You and your group better get out of here, lass, unless you want a beating.” 

Hector paused, his head snapping towards the voice. Outside the alleyway, a few feet from the entrance of the brewery. A large, weathered man stood with a group of others, dwarfing those around him. He had a scar on his left eye and was dressed in leather armour. He wouldn’t look out of place among a mercenary group.

 Hector’s eyes went wide when he saw one in particular. Standing not too far from the large man. The bearded man stood, his eyes shifting around nonstop. Next to him, with a calm expression, a brown-haired man with a lazy eye rested a hand on his shoulder and whispered something. 

The bearded man’s head dropped.  

“Well, it seems they knew where we were going,” Lincoln said, dragging a palm down his face. “Figures. At least Jodie is already here.” 

Chapter 51: Why is it just one thing after another?

Eyes shooting to Lincoln, Hector clenched his fist and tensed. How would they play this? They didn’t exactly have a good reason to be standing here just a few paces from a barn, watching. Hector glanced back to the Farmhand, analysing him. 

————————————————

///: Acquiring target stats…

————————————————

/// 

Cultivation level: [Gravity Forging - 2]

Talent: [Tough Body [••○] (2/3)]

Talent Fragment: [2-Common]

/// 

————————————————

Well, things had just got a little more complicated. Hector went to speak, but Lincoln beat him to it. His friend darted forward, closing the distance between him and the Farmhand in an instant. His fist snapped forward. 

The Farmhand jerked back, stepping out of the way, snarling. He raised a fist, and cracked it across Lincoln’s cheek, sending him staggering back, stumbling on twigs. That was unexpected. Hector needed to do something. 

He darted forward. The Farmhand lowered his stance and snarled. Did he think it would go the same way? Hector tugged on the [Resonant Shout] feeling the power build in his throat. It swirled to life, pulsing, then exploding out of his mouth. 

The air rippled as wave after wave slammed into the Farmhand, dropping him to his knees, clutching his head. Not wasting a moment, Hector closed in and his foot snapped out, slamming onto the Farmhand's skull, knocking him unconscious. 

Well, that went better than I thought I would. 

Hector turned his head to Lincoln, who walked over, massaging his cheek. “Got you good, didn’t he?” Hector said with a smile. 

“Yeah, sure did.” Holding a hand to his cheek, Lincoln’s eyes narrowed as he fixed his gaze on Hector. “What happened to him just now?” 

Dropping to a knee, Hector placed two fingers on the boy’s neck, making sure he hadn’t killed him. “What do you mean, I knocked him out?” Hector replied. A low pulse beat against his fingertips and Hector got back to his feet. That was good enough. 

“That’s not what I mean,” Lincoln said, You did something to him just now. I saw it. The way he dropped before you even touched him. What was that?” 

Ah, crap. I got a little overzealous. But it’s the better option. I’d rather risk Lincoln seeing than attracting more attention to ourselves with a drawn-out fight. But what do I say now?

Hector crossed his arms, taking a breath. “It’s something I want to talk about. But not now, especially not with this,” Hector gestured towards the unconscious Farmhand. “We have to deal with him first.” 

Lincoln frowned, looking off to the side, then shaking his head. Shrugging, he turned back to Hector. “We all have our secrets, and I can’t fault you for that. But I look forward to when you are ready to share.” 

Hector nodded. Wind ruffled the back of his neck, and he turned his head, searching through the thick foliage. Was this guy alone? He stepped forward, circling the Farmhand. They couldn’t just leave him here. When he woke up, he’d probably head straight to the barn. 

“We are going to have to bring this guy with us,” Hector said, squatting and patting down the Farmhand. There was a chance he might have something on him—even Hector carried a few coins with him, and who knows? Maybe there was something that could give them a clue about what was going on in that barn. 

“Huh?” Lincoln said, stepping over, and looking down at Hector. “What’s the point of that? Can’t we just dump him somewhere like we did with the guy this morning?” 

“And risk him letting them know they were being watched. If you want to hit that place, then we can’t have them know that someone is coming, also it could put the person they just brought inside at risk.” Hector said, raising a brow. His hand slipped into the Farmhand's breast pocket and he pulled out a few, jingling, silver coins. 

Lincoln whistled. Hector glanced up at him with a smile, then flicked one coin at Lincoln and slid the other two into his pocket. Whatever they were doing in there, it was profitable. Hector got back to his feet, dusting off his knees, then slapping clean his hands. “So, do you want to carry him, or should I?” 

“Well, you're the one who wants to bring him with us,” Lincoln said, “but we’re going to have to strip him first. The last thing we need is to draw attention to ourselves.” 

Yeah. It’s not like walking through the Hay Quarter with a half-naked Farmhand is going to be any less suspicious. 

“We can’t go back the way we came,” Hector said, stepping over to the boy’s head. Should one of them wear his robes? Then, if asked, they could just say they were taking him to a healer. That might work. Hector turned his head to Lincoln, smiling as he bent down and began undoing his sandals. “I have an idea.” 

I should carry him. I need the Talent fragments, and that’s the best way to get them without Lincoln seeing.

“Well, this should be good,” Lincoln sighed, shaking his head. 

***

After Hector had swapped his clothes with the Farmhands, he used the rope that tightened his trousers to restrain their new hostage. Scooping the boy up, he and Lincoln then moved through the Hay quarter, sticking to the bushes as much as possible. 

It was tough. Many times Hector had got the Farmhand's robes caught on a loose branch. But thankfully avoiding people was actually easy, one because the Hay quarter was so large and two, because he had the [Street Reader] Talent.

Avoiding people was simple when you knew where they were going to be.  

Finally, after a few splats in mud puddles, dirtying the robes, and dropping their hostage a few times, they made it back to the Sirius quarter and immediately moved into the alleyways. Once there, Hector changed his clothes back, opting to unrestraint the farmhand, then re-restrain him with fabric torn from the boy’s green robes—they could have probably found some rope lying around, but they didn’t have the time to go searching. 

In the end, the Farmhand sat slumped unconscious against the slick wall of an old house in the alleyway. Black viscous liquid dripped from a hole in the house wall, splashing down into a thick puddle, with a plop, a few feet from the boy. 

“Should we move him?” Lincoln asked, turning his head toward Hector. “I don’t want to pick him up if he’s going to be covered in that stuff.” 

Hector's face cringed as the stale smell of urine and something else wafted from the black puddle. He swallowed, pushing down the rising bile and pinching his nose. “Nah, I think he’s already got some on his back. Won’t really make much difference now. Besides, I wasn’t aware you’d be carrying him,” he said nasally.

“Well, I can’t make you do everything, can I?” Lincoln said, taking a few steps down the alleyway, glancing around and frowning. “We are in this together now—Hector. I think we might have taken a bad turn.” 

“Is that some guilt I hear in your voice, and what do you mean?” Hector glanced around the alleyway. They couldn’t walk the main street with their hostage, that would draw far too much attention to them. So they had chosen the side streets. Hector shook his head. “I don’t see much difference between this and anywhere else.” 

Lincoln sighed, scratching at his sideburns as he stepped back over. “I keep telling you. You need to get out more and talk to people. Staying inside all day cultivating is not good for your social skills and street smarts.” 

Hector shook his head, rolling his eyes. Unlike Lincoln, who progressed faster in cultivation over the years. Hector actually had to put in the hard work. So he’d have to be forgiven if he could actually prioritize what was important. “What’s the problem?” 

Lincoln crossed his arms. “Not really a problem, just some annoyances we might have to deal with as we continue.” 

The sound of distant chatter and noise from the main street drifted into the alleyway. So they were in a gang’s territory. Hector shrugged. Minor gangs still carved a small place for themselves in the shadow of the Collar gang—though it was a pathetic existence, and they only ever targeted those they thought were weak.

“Should head we back to the main street?” Hector asked, his feet slapping off the wet stone as he stepped over to the Farmhand. “It could be a—”

“No, we don’t need to,” Lincoln said. His hands hesitating next to his trousers pocket. “They’re a problem, but only for your typical mortal. And maybe an untrained cultivator” Lincoln shook his head and tutted, folding his arms. He wanted to eat his breadsticks. 

It was probably a good idea to hold off on that, at least until they got somewhere cleaner. A small rat scuttled by, racing to the other end of the alleyway and disappearing around the corner. Hector, reaching down, grabbed the Farmhand. Heaving him up, battling against the smell, he slumped the boy onto his shoulder—there was no longer a need for a princess carry. 

I now have the fragments. But, I wonder if I’ll have a chance to take the Talent later. I wouldn’t say no to another [Tough Body]  

He glanced at the Farmhand's face, pot marks scared its surface. Years of suffering through puberty. It was hard to believe that this guy was involved in someone’s death; he looked so peaceful. But then again, looks could be deceiving. 

Hector, adjusting the Farmhand, walked deeper into the alleyway, Lincoln trailing a few feet behind, looking over his shoulder. Was he always this antsy or had sneaking around just made him more paranoid? Hector peeked around the corner as he got to a T junction at the end of the alleyway. It was clear. 

“The old brewery is this way, right?” Hector said, gesturing to the left turn. The smell of rotten fruit and crap tickled his nose. He frowned, lifting his foot, checking he hadn’t stepped into anything. “I hope we aren’t going to be too late.” 

“Yeah, it’s this way,” Lincoln said, stepping past Hector. 

The two of them continued walking. Only a few words, mostly confirmations of directions as they walked, came from Lincoln. After a while, they pulled up to a rather large courtyard in the back alleys. 

It joined up with four different alleyways, each going in a different direction. Hector paused as he stepped into the courtyard. Clotheslines hung from house to house, connecting them like spider webs. The cobblestone was jutted up in places, sticking up at awkward angles—the place needed some repair. 

A queer smile came to Lincoln's lips as he glanced back at Hector, stepping over a small river of brown liquid that flowed by. Ducking under a clothesline—manoeuvring the Farmhand out of the way—Hector searched for what direction they would take next. 

“Hey, what are you two doing back here?” said a bearded man as he stepped under a clothesline, pushing past a scraggy blanket as a door slapped shut behind him. “This area is only for the. Rough Rollers. If you ain’t got an invite, I’m gonna need to see some coin.” 

The man cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders—was that supposed to be intimidating? Clothesline, draped in scraggy old blankets, flapped behind him. Hector glanced at Lincoln. This wasn’t too bad, it was just one mortal, that didn’t know who had just stepped into their turf. 

“Listen, sir,” Lincoln said, raising his hands. “We are just passing through. There’s no need to turn this into a whole thing…” 

Lincoln trailed off as two more men stepped out from underneath the blankets, scowling. To Hector's right, another two guys stepped out from underneath some more hanging blankets and on his left. One man stood holding open a door as two men walked by him. He followed them a moment later. 

Well, this has gotten a little out of hand. How should me and Lincoln split these fools this time? 

Lincoln chuckled, glancing back at Hector and shaking his head—it’s not like they didn’t expect this. Hector adjusted the Farmhand on his shoulder, moving over to a wall, dropping to one knee and resting him against it. Something dripped nearby, splashing into a puddle. 

Hector tapped the Farmhand's head and hopped to his feet. It looked like this wouldn’t be ending peacefully. “System, scan them all,” he whispered. 

Chapter 50: What does it take to change our minds?

Hector stopped. What did he mean by that? If Lincoln was going to use this as a reason to attack the farm, that wasn’t going to work. Hector crossed his arms and squinted. “What are you planning?” 

Lincoln raised his hands in defence. “Trust me. You started making it up to me the moment you decided you’d follow me.” 

Hector glanced around, adjusting his sandals in the dirt. Were they not meant to be here? Nothing looked out of place. The trees were normal and there was nothing to stop someone walking over here. 

“Don’t worry. You're good. All I meant was the fact that you are coming with me to have a look means a lot to me.”

“Hmmm… I see.” Hector took a deep breath and gestured for Lincoln to continue—he’d come this far. It was clear where they were going now. But why they were going there was still unclear. If all he had to do was follow Lincoln, then there was no harm in it. 

Hector trailed behind Lincoln, admiring the surroundings as they went. The smell of the Hay quarter was something to be envied. The life of this place. Frowning, Hector’s mind wandered. The Glademoors had no doubt helped to make all this possible. They, much like the Frostkeep family, had an unusual affinity for their aspect. In this case, plants. 

Shaking his head. Hector continued to follow. What was it that made them all so special—aside from the years and years of resources piling up in their vaults? 

A few moments later, and after forcing their way through some shrubs. Hector and Lincoln stopped by a tree. In front of them, across a small field, stood a barn. It seemed typical for this area—he and Lincoln had walked past a few on the way over. 

Hector gestured towards it with his head. “What am I looking at right now?” he asked. Was this why Lincoln was so obsessed with the farm, this barn?

Lincoln’s eyes locked onto it. The sun glimmering across their brown as they didn’t budge. “That’s it Hector. In that barn are more resources than we would know what to do with.” 

“Lincoln.” 

“No. Listen.” Lincoln turned to him and grabbed his shoulder, eyes wide with excitement. “I can tell you, hand on my heart, that in there, there are more than enough resources to pay back your father’s debt twice over.” 

Hector looked to the ground, focusing on a patch of grass as it swayed in the wind. What if Lincoln was right? If what he said was true and in that barn there were enough resources to repay his father’s debt, could Hector refuse? 

Shaking his head, Hector turned back to Lincoln. “How can you be sure that the resources in there could repay my father’s debt? Did you see something?” 

Lincoln took a step back. Resting himself against a tree and crossing his arms. He looked off to the side and puffed out a breath. “To tell you the truth. I wasn’t too sure. I knew farms were bound to have some wealth. But I could never prove it.” 

Hector scrunched his brow. He took a step towards the barn, but made sure to stay in the treeline. Leaves fell by, some brushing against his face, as the wind blew through the tree branches. Attacking a farm could be dangerous—though it would be safer than outright pickpocketing. 

It just involved a bit more violence. Hector shook his head. He wouldn’t consider it, he couldn’t. 

“We can’t attack the farm Lincoln, you know that,” Hector said, glancing back at him. He looked him over, wondering what he was thinking. “Besides, we don’t even know who owns this farm, or how deeply they’re connected to the Glademoors.” 

Lincoln scoffed and pushed off the tree, stepping over to stand next to Hector. He watched the barn for a few moments before speaking. “I know who owns that barn. Or at the very least, who works it. Besides, I think you’re forgetting something.” 

Hector crossed his arms and regarded Lincoln with a critical eye. Where was he going with this? 

“Are you really sorry about what you did at the festival?” Lincoln asked. 

“You said all was forgiven, Lincoln.” Hector’s voice chilled. Was he really going to pull that on him? “You said that me following you here was more than enough.” 

Lincoln looked off to the side and shrugged, rocking his head from side to side. “I did. And it is. But I feel like this would go a long way to proving it. You know, backing up your words with actions.” 

“That’s crappy, Lincoln, and you know it.” 

“And you leaving me to a Phoenix Company initiate is just as bad. Maybe a little worse.” 

Hector’s eyes lowered, focusing on the ground. The grass swaying subtly in the gentle breeze. He’d left him to a fate that could have gone horribly wrong if Lincoln hadn’t been prepared. 

But from what Mirae said, Lincoln would have done the same—which was seeming more and more true by the minute. Hector shook his head. The two of them couldn’t raid a farm alone, that would be just handing themselves to the guards. 

“Don’t worry,” Lincoln said, almost as if he’d heard Hector’s thoughts. “I don’t want the two of us to raid it alone. I want your help to convince our friends. Then we can go from there.” Lincoln then raised a finger, stifling the words Hector was about to say. 

“I know. Jodie won’t even consider it. But there is a reason I brought you here.” He moved his finger and pointed it at the barn. “They should be coming now.” 

Hector watched where Lincoln was pointing. He watched as the barn door burst open, and he watched as two Farmhands dragged out a sack splotched with red. Was it a farm animal? They dragged the sack across the dirt and slumped it down. Then stood, waiting for something.

A few minutes later, wheels rolling down the dirt path from the barn, a donkey and a cart appeared. The animal pulled it along, chasing a carrot on a stick. Oblivious to its destination. Hector frowned. He recognised the Farmhand with the stick. It was one of the boys he and Lincoln had fought the other day.

Hector turned to Lincoln and raised a brow. Did he know what was going on? Lincoln tapped his finger against his lip and pointed. Signalling for him to continue watching.

As the cart drew to a stop in front of the barn, the two Farmhands went forward to greet it. Words were exchanged—none of which Hector could hear. Then the two boys moved to the back of the cart, one of them climbing in. 

The boy bent down and dragging something. Hector’s eyes went wide when he saw it. He was dragging a person, gagged and bound. With the help of the second boy, they dragged the person from the back of the cart. 

The cart driver hopped off his seat, down onto the dirt and walked over to the sack the two had carried out of the barn. He hoisted it over his shoulder—his cultivation making it easy—and walked to the back of the cart. Tossing the body in, he said something to the two boys as they entered the barn with the bound individual. The two of them nodded. 

The cart driver then hopped into the driver’s seat and steered the cart back down the dirt road. Hector turned to Lincoln. What had he just witnessed? Were they kidnapping and killing people? 

“As I said, you won’t have a problem convincing Jodie,” Lincoln said with a smile. He dusted a leaf off his shoulder as he stepped back over to the tree. “Whatever is going on in there, it’s not good. But it could also explain how they got their cultivation.” 

“What are you talking about?” Hector asked, stepping further into the treeline. A low crack came from above, followed by a thud as a tree branch landed next to him. Hector snapped his head up, looking to where the branch had come from. A squirrel sat munching on something. Hector turned back to Lincoln. “You can’t be talking about what I think you are.” 

Lincoln's lips peeled into a crooked smile. “You’re right on the money. I think somehow, they are sacrificing those people and gaining power from it.” He looked off to the side, shaking his head. “But they are definitely making a profit from it. After all, if they were just strengthening themselves, why would their cultivation be so low?“ 

“Lincoln,” Hector said, his mouth falling open. “How long have you been watching this?” 

“Since that incident with Hammond,” Lincoln said, shrugging. “I got curious. Why would a group of Farmhands want someone like Delworth, and why did they have cultivation?” 

“And you found this out just watching?” Hector asked. How could he just watch and do nothing? “Hadn’t you thought of going to the guards or something?” 

“Oh, come on,” Lincoln laughed, pulling a small bag from his pocket. “You think the guards are gonna believe a slum rat like me over some Farmhands? Don’t mess around.” Soft crunching came from Lincoln as he began chewing something. “Besides, I saw this as an opportunity—Do you want some?” He said, holding out the small cloth bag containing bread sticks.

“No,” Hector said, waving him off. Part of him was disappointed in his friend, but another part of him saw his reasoning. No guard would believe them over the Farmhands, and if those guys were making a profit, it would be in that barn.

“So, what do you say?” Lincoln said, crunching on another bread stick. “I think it would be more than worth the shot. And as Jodie likes to say, we would all benefit.” 

Hector stepped over to a tree, turning and leaning his back against it, biting his lower lip. One thing didn’t add up. If Lincoln didn’t know about this until two days ago, why was he so interested in the farm beforehand? 

“I don’t get it,” Hector said. “You’ve been talking about the farm since the other day at the dump. You didn’t know about this before, so why were you so interested?” 

A coy smile appeared on Lincoln's face. Crunching another bread stick, he shrugged. “I wanted to see what’s inside, and selling a few stolen goods could be easy in the slums. Food is hard to come by, after all.” 

Hector raised a brow. That had to be one of the dumbest reason, but somehow also uniquely Lincoln. Hector shook his head, wiping his palms on his trousers, and gazing off to the barn. He didn’t have a choice anymore, did he? He owed Lincoln and there were people who needed saving—it was a convenient excuse, but was the one he would go with. 

He lazily turned his head back to Lincoln and let out a heavy sigh. “Alright, I’ll help you convince them.” He pushed his back off the tree and rolled his shoulders. “But I don’t make any promises on whether I’ll be able to convince them.” 

“That’s more than alright,” Lincoln said, pushing off of the tree. He fished out one more bread stick, placing it between his lips, and sliding the cloth back into his pocket. “But I think everyone will come around.” He crunched on the bread stick, smiling. 

A crack came from the side, followed by the rustling of bushes. Hector’s head snapped to the sound, and there he found a Farmhand walking out of the bushes, staring at them with a look of confusion. 

“You two shouldn’t be here,” he said with a sneer.

Well, damn. 

Chapter 49: Why don't we explore our surroundings a bit more?

“What’s up?” Hector asked, crossing his arms. “Though I will say. I’ve been meaning to talk to you as well.” Hector took a step back. A loose piece of cobblestone crumbled under his sandals as he shifted his weight.

Lincoln squinted and lowered his head. Was he confused why he’d asked? Hector shook his head. The boy hadn’t exactly had the best poker face in the past few days. Something was wrong, that much was obvious. 

“Let’s talk about your thing first. Mine can wait a little longer,” Hector said. There was no point bringing up something Lincoln might say himself, anyway. Perhaps Hector could finally learn why his friend was so obsessed with the farm. More shouts came from the other side of the fence as drunks rambled at each other. 

“Alright,” Lincoln said, “but not here.” He looked over his shoulder, towards the fence. Was someone waiting on the other side? More drunk shouts came from the street, followed by a thud and what sounded like someone dropping to the ground. Lincoln turned and walked towards the gate, glancing back over his shoulder to Hector. “Are you coming?” 

I hope someone didn’t just get knocked out right in front of the house. It will be a pain if I have to drag someone down the street again. It is far too early for this nonsense. 

Hector glanced behind him to the kitchen window. There Mire stood, mallet in hand. He waved at her and mouthed, be back soon. She nodded and mouthed be careful. 

Walking towards the gate, Hector gestured for Lincoln to continue. The boy pulled the old gate open with a creak. A bolt at the side of the gate popped and metal clattered to the dirt. “Was that important?” Lincoln asked, gesturing to the bolt. 

Hector sighed. Perhaps he should have fixed the gate yesterday. But Hector shook his head and urged Lincoln through. He pulled up the now lopsided gate—barely even serving its function. He’d definitely fix it when he got back. 

On the side of the road, a few feet away from Hector, was a homeless man. His face was gaunt, cheekbones on full display. The man hadn’t had a good meal in a while. Hector stepped over to him. The smell of alcohol immediately assaulted his enhanced senses. How did he have the money to drink, yet couldn’t eat? 

Hector glanced around. Whoever had done this was long gone. “Can you help me with him?” Hector asked Lincoln, gesturing to the man. “I’d rather him not wake up next to my house.” 

Or anywhere near Mirae. 

Lincoln rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You are far too kind for your own good. We should just leave him,” he said, dragging his feet along the cobblestone. Loose rock kicked up by him bounced off the man’s body.

“I don’t see how me not wanting him in front of my house is kind. But alright.” Hector bent down, grabbing the man by his ankles, while Lincoln grabbed the man by the wrists. The two of them lifted him with relative ease—they were cultivators and he was emaciated. Hector could have done it alone. But it was quicker this way. “So, what did you want to talk about?” 

“Not here,” Lincoln said. What was with all the secrets? People walked by, many frowning as they watched the two of them lug the man through the streets. Lincoln tightened his lips and whistled. “So where are we dumping this guy?” 
Somewhere nice to wake up would be good. 

Hector frowned, contemplating his options. He glanced at the people who watched him, giving them a smile. Where would be a good place to leave him? Not that there was a good place in the slums. But somewhere, he would be moderately comfortable. 

The two continued to walk down the street until they came to an alley. It was dry and seemed to get very little foot traffic. The man wouldn’t be disturbed here. “Let's place him here.” With a plop, they slumped the man onto the ground. Hector adjusted him so that his head was leaning against the wall, but he still fell to the side. That would not be a comfortable sleep.

“I just had thought. Did we even check if he’s alive?” 

Hector shook his head. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter too much. If he was, there wasn’t much either of them could do about it. The street cleaner would pick him up when they came by. Though, at the back of his mind, Hector could hear Mirea's voice telling him to do more. 

Bending down next to the man, raising a hand and resting his two fingers on his neck, Hector checked for a pulse. A low but weak heartbeat replied. “He’s good,” Hector said, getting back to his feet. “Shall we?” He gestured for Lincoln to carry on walking. 

The two of them left the man and made their way back into the disarray of the main streets. House too old to stand under their own weight lent to the side. The building would topple someday soon, and the street cleaners would have a busy day. Hector glanced toward the sky as the warmth of the sun washed over his face. His skin prickled with satisfaction. At least they still had the sun. 

Hector glanced at Lincoln from the corner of his eye. “Did your mom get many customers yesterday?” The answer was obvious, but if she was busy, then it would have been really bad.

Lincoln nodded, then shook his head. “You should have seen it. The wounds I saw yesterday, I’d never seen anything like it. My mom even had to call for help from her two apprentices. I think every healer in the slum was making money.” Lincoln's lips wobbled. It was as if he wanted to smile, but at least he had the good sense not to look too happy at the suffering of others.

“That’s horrible. I can’t imagine how many people lost their lives yesterday,” Hector said, stepping to the side. An old woman pushing a cart of carvings trundled by. She gave him a smile, her whole body shaking as she walked. “Who knows how many people lost family?” 

“Yeah, I wonder where those things even came from,” Lincoln said, bringing a finger to his lip. “They looked nothing like a mana beast, and they just appeared inside the city. It was as if they came out of thin air.” 

Almost as if they were summoned. But that would take a crazy amount of mana, and why would anyone even want that? 

“Do you think it has anything to do with that tentacle guy?” Hector asked, “the one that was fighting the Phoenix Company initiate.”

“Could do.” Lincoln nodded as they turned down a side street. Where was he taking him? “I mean, he had tentacles on his back. The creatures did too, so they might be connected.” 

“I think it’s more than a might. But I wonder how.” 

Lincoln shrugged. Their saddles clattered rhythmically on the cobblestone as they continued to walk. The streets were becoming less familiar now. But Hector recognised them. If he continued down this road, he would end up in the Hay quarter—not the best name. It was the area of the slums that was responsible for farming, and it was huge. 

“Lincoln, where are we going?” Hector asked. On the other side of the street, two Farmhands, dressed in their usual green robes, talked to a vendor. They didn't have a look of arrogance as they talked to the man, and seemed to be getting on well. Hammond and his friends were definitely not normal. 

How had they already gained cultivation? These two farmhands didn’t have any. Lincoln smiled at him. “Trust me. I know what you are thinking. But I’m not going to drag you to rob a farm. I just want to show you something.” 

Hector nodded. What could he have to show him in the Hay quarter that didn’t have to do with trying to rob a farm? Hector wanted to turn around, but after what happened yesterday, he owed Lincoln. No matter what Mirea said; this reality was the one that played out. So, he had to live with its consequences. 

The two continued to walk. The tapping on cobblestone, becoming the slapping on dirt. Hector hadn’t been to the Hay quarter before. He’d never needed two. The houses became smaller as they left the Sirius quarter. They also spread out much more. Gardens become more frequent, and Hector even spotted a few chickens clucking around people's front yards. 

They could afford animals around here. Lincoln gave Hector a knowing smile. Was this even considered part of the slums? Hector doubted it. He glanced around, spotting a couple of guards walking down the street. He lowered his gaze. They were not in the slum. Guards rarely patrolled the slums like this. 

The guards eyed the two of them. Hector tensed. Would they stop them? The scratching of their feet on the dirt continued. The guards continued on. Lincoln chuckled once they were out of earshot, slapping Hector on the back. 

“They look a lot more scary when they aren’t being torn apart by those creatures,” Lincoln said. He grinned, throwing a look over his shoulders. His lips tightened, and he shook his head. “It was crazy, and things have just gotten worse.” 

“Worse? How do you mean?” Hector asked. He glanced over his shoulder, squinting against the sunlight. The guards continued to walk down the dirt path.

“Yeah. The attack yesterday seems to have them rattled.” 

“The guards?” Hector asked, raising an eyebrow. Had they suffered that much? 

Lincoln nodded. “I hear they are rounding up people, that were near to the center of the festival.” 

“How are they doing that?” Hector asked, “And wouldn’t that mean that they would be looking for us too?” 

“Hey, it’s what I heard. I didn’t say it was true.” The two of them turned onto a side path. The trees had become more numerous now. They lined the path, choking it, their leaves letting through dappled sunlight. “Besides,” Lincoln continued, “we weren’t anywhere near the centre. Not really.” 

“I suppose you're right,” Hector said. Glancing up at the canopy, he took a moment to appreciate its colours. The Sirius quarter didn’t have trees—not ones this big, anyway. He’d need to take some time to visit the hay district more in the future. 

Mirae would probably love it around here. 

To the side of the path were white and pink flowers. The wind rustled them gently, carrying an aroma that Hector rather liked. He had an urge to stop and pick one, but thought better of it. Mirea would just tell him he was harming the flowers. 

He continued to walk, craning his neck. Past a particularly old-looking tree, what looked like a small patch of purple coated the ground. Hector reached to his neck, grabbing his necklace. How had he not been here before? 

“Hey, Lincoln, look at those,” Hector said, pointing to the patch of flowers just past the trees. 

Lincoln glanced over and nodded. He didn’t pause, continuing to march on. “They’re nice,” he said, glancing back at Hector. A coy smile came to his lips. “What do you like flowers now or something?” 

Sighing, Hector dropped his hand. It wasn’t like he hated flowers, but he wouldn’t want any for himself. Though, something about those flowers just struck a chord with him. Mirae would understand. “Nah, I was just thinking my sister would like them.” 

Hector slowed his pace as Lincoln continued on. “Lincoln, can I say something?” 

The boy glanced over his shoulder and frowned. “Is something wrong? Don’t tell me that our little walk has got you emotional.” 

Nah, I just feel like I would be sweeping this under the rug if I didn’t say it. 

“No,” Hector said, shaking his head. He glanced off to the side, taking a moment to organise his thoughts. A bird flew by, chirping as it darted through the trees. Hector turned back to Lincoln. “I wanted to apologise for what I put you through yesterday.” 

Lincoln stopped, smiling as he turned to Hector. “Where is this coming from? Ah, you mean… it’s fine, trust me.” 

Hector raised an eyebrow. Taking a step closer, he searched Lincoln’s face for a trace of a lie. He found nothing. “Really,” Hector said, brushing off a fallen leaf on his head. Hector looked up, sunlight blinding him for a second. He turned back to Lincoln. “If I were in your shoes, I would be fuming.” 

Lincoln laughed and turned back around, waving for Hector to follow. “I was, but I’m over it now. Besides, you're gonna pay me back?” 

“I am?” 

Chapter 48: Did you know Talents could do that?

Hector grit his teeth as the void continued to shake, churring up small waves that rocked him. What was going on? He glanced to the sky of his soulscape. Was the absorption phase even working? 

No chaotic mana motes could be seen, but that wasn’t unusual—with him not exactly being the most competent cultivator. It made sense. A loud crack came from the distance, and a sharp pain assaulted Hector’s mind. He grabbed his head, groaning in pain. What was going on? 

“System, why is my soulscape reacting like this?” He pleaded. It had been able to find the restriction. Perhaps it could tell him what was going on.

————————————————

///: “Your mana channels are not equipped to handle an increase in mana and thus require adaptation. But is not clear if it will be able to adapt in time, or whether your soul will collapse before then.”

————————————————

By the great lake I’m going to die, aren’t I? My Talent will actually get me killed what, in the hell? 

Hector's heart rattled in his chest like a caged animal as he fought back the growing pain in his head. It throbbed and throbbed, sending waves of pain flooding through his body. He curled into himself—not that it helped at all. 

When he had first started cultivating, it was pleasant and easy, but Kamble had always reminded him to stay calm. If a cultivator wasn’t calm, they would be forced from cultivation or cause damage to their soul—that usually meant death or, at the very least, severe injury. 

But it was impossible to always remain calm. With the average life of a slum dweller, if gangs weren’t trying to kill you, then hunger was. If someone didn’t want to steal from you, then the guards would probably come around and take something. To be in the slums was to invite some sort of problem. And problems led to stress and distraction.

Kamble knew this and so inbuilt into his cultivation method was a cycle of peace. A method you could follow that would ensure that you could at least calm yourself before beginning cultivation—In his excitement, Hector had only done one step. The counting method. 

“What does the day bring?” He said, reciting the first line of the method. “Hope. What does the future see? The past.” He grit his teeth as lightning cracked across the void. A deafening boom rocked the soulscape as a sharp pain shot through his chest. “Where do all paths lead? To Victory. And victory belongs to the excellent.” 

He pulled on the void even harder, screaming as he strained against its force. The soulscape’s shaking intensified. The water shook, and the sky screamed, and the air quaked. Wind whipped all around. 

Why wasn’t it working? The method had never failed to calm him in the past—a few times he’d even managed to get an extra mote out of that day's cultivation. A wave crashed into his chest, rocking him. His hand shot out as he steadied himself. Okay, that hadn’t worked. What else could he do? 

Releasing it could be an option, but would its outcome be worse than just staying and fighting through? It wasn’t clear. He adjusted himself as waves continued to assault him. Hector wet his lips as he considered his options. A crack of thunder tore across the void, lighting his features. 

In life, the more you tried to control something, the worse it could become. He’d learnt that the hard way. Hector let out a breath, pushing Kamble’s methods to the back of his mind. He’d have to believe in himself now. 

A sharp pain crackled across his chest as he slammed his hands into his soul's waters. He needed to let go, and so he did. He gave into the force releasing the absorption method. The sky continued to shake. Thunder roared overhead, and the waves continued to tear into him. Nothing changed. The only difference was he was no longer in control. 

It’s going to be okay, Hector. You didn’t come all this way to simply die in cultivation. It’s going to be alright. Your family needs you and you are stronger than you think. 

The words did very little to calm his increasing heart rate—It was a wonder it hadn’t given out underneath all the strain. A deafening crack slammed across the void and pain erupted in his mind. He clawed at his skull, waves slapping into him as his vision began to blur. Were these his last moments? 

As his mind fogged with thoughts of his family and friends, he caught onto something. It was dense and swarming overhead. He strained his head, looking up into the void. There, mana motes whizzed across the sky in loose clusters of light. There were a lot of them, all moving so fast he couldn’t count. 

He had to capture them. Something inside him screamed for him to do so. 

Fighting back the pain, Hector imagined a ring forming around himself. He imagined it circling, spinning. The ring would draw them all in. And so it did. Chaotic mana motes fell from the sky. They fell like comets, shooting down in a trail of blazing white. 

Hector pulled even harder. 

Even as water rocked him, Hector pushed through the pain and summoned the mana motes to him. The motes whizzed around him. Some shot off into the distant void, while others bounced off each other, shooting back off into the void sky. But Hector never stopped rotating the circle. 

After a few agonizing moments, the orbit was ready. It had filled as much as he could and he needed to start the capture phase. It was time to tighten the circle. Thunder boomed overhead. Lightning arced across the sky. Hector gritted his teeth and pulled on the ring of motes that now orbited him, shrinking the circle.

The system message popped up in front of him. Hector winced. Did it have to turn up now? 

————————————————

///: “The Talent [Awakened Sou] has been activated. The soulscape should stabilise shortly.”

————————————————

At the system’s word, the void slowed. The waves weakened, and the lightning stopped. Hector hadn’t noticed before, but cracks of purple littered the void’s sky. But they were closing now. Slowly, but they were closing. 

The ring of mana motes continued to spin around him. They jostled in his orbit as the ring tightened—he’d need to keep increasing the pressure or risk them shooting off. But he found himself letting out a breath. The Talent had actually worked. He hadn’t had the chance to absorb anything yet—he’d have to deal with the ones he’d captured first. But the system's word was as good as gold. It had worked. 

I guess I don’t need to worry about death or crippling. I should add my affinity to this and get them to the lagrange point. 

The waters of his soul gradually lost their blue colour as the waves calmed. As Hector sat, the water lowered back down to his thigh, falling still. The soulscape was on the mend. Hector wasn’t sure if what he was feeling was real or imagined. But his soulscape was bigger somehow. The void still looked like the void. But it had grown. Was this the Talent? 

He continued orbiting the mana motes. Many of them, taking on the pale blue of his affinity, becoming moon-based mana motes. Once he’d finished doing that to all of them, he could move on to the next step. But then suddenly, Mirae’s voice burst through the void. 

“Hector, it’s morning now. Time to…” Her voice stalled. She’d probably noticed him. “Don’t tell me you’ve been meditating all night. Hector. By the great lake. I’ll tell Lincoln you are going to be awhile.” 

The door thudded closed as it sounded like Mirae had left the room. Hector frowned. It wasn’t a surprise that it was morning—losing track of time during cultivation was easy. But why was Lincoln here, and so early? 

He can’t be here to count the money. We agreed to do that later on today.

---

Hector walked into the kitchen. The floorboards creaked as he moved, the wood seemingly more battered than he’d recalled. He hadn’t fully reached the second level of gravity forging, but the effects of his recent cultivation were apparent. The pain had been immense, but it was worth it—he’d never achieved so much growth in one session. 

The system had told him it was only because of his soul almost breaking. He would not get anywhere close to that many chaotic mana motes in a normal session. A smile cracked his lips. Would it be worth it to upgrade the skill, or would that kill him? He shook his head, stopping by the kitchen door. 

Hector glanced behind him to Mirae. His sister stood next to the kitchen counter. In her hand was a mallet—one Hector had made himself. She used it to beat a lump of dough that she was working with. Grim grain was a tough nut. Hector smiled. “Is he outside?” 

She glanced at him, puffing a loose strand of white hair away from her eye. Lowing her hand, she rested the mallet on the worn wooden tabletop. “Yeah, he’s standing by the gate. I asked if he wanted to come inside, but he said no. I think something might be wrong with him.” 

Hector frowned as he kissed his teeth. He wasn’t annoyed, per se, but Lincoln had been acting strange for the last few days. Today Hector intended to find out what was wrong. He reached for the door handle. “I’m going to see what’s up with him. Hopefully, it won’t take too long. Also, has Dad already left for work?” 

Mirae nodded. She reached for a heap of flour and dusted a little on the dough. Glancing back at him, she paused. “He left rather early today. I think he’s still upset about yesterday. And—I’m not sure—but he may be a little hurt about us whispering in your room.” 

“Oh, come on,” Hector said, “He’s not that sensitive. I’m sure it’s just a problem at work.” 

Mirae dropped a brow as if to ask if Hector was that naïve. Hector waved her off and pulled the door open. He stepped out into the front garden; the sun shining down, warming his cheeks. It was a clear day to day. Not a cloud in the sky. It was as if yesterday was nothing but a bad dream. 

By the rickety old gate—still worse for wear from yesterday—Lincoln stood. He looked up as Hector glanced over and creaked a playful smile. “What are you doing up this early? Did your mom kick you out of the house or something?” 

“Yeah.” Lincoln chuckled. Pushing off the fence, he strode towards Hector. “Said I needed to stop wasting time and go find a wife,” Lincoln said, reaching out a hand.

Hector grabbed it and gave it a firm shake. “She’s right. But I’m not too sure there is a woman alive that would want you,” Hector said with a snort.

The two of them burst out laughing. Lincoln gave Hector a light jab in the arm and shook his head. “You’re one to talk. Isn’t every girl you interact with a friend?” 

“And that’s all I need. My young child, the path I walk is a lonely one.” Hector stroked his non-existent beard—growing one had been difficult in both lives. The two of them barked another laugh and gradually fell silent. 

Someone on the other side of the fence cursed. They grumbled about someone stealing money from them—a typical day in the slum. 

After an awkward few seconds of quiet, Lincoln spoke up. He focused on Hector’s eyes with a look Hector rarely saw. Determination. Lincoln wet his lips and wrung his hands. “Hector, I have to talk to you.” 

I fudged. Chapter is now out early; enjoy.

Chapter 47: What did we learn today?

In the end Hector didn’t mange to dive straight into Cultivating like he wanted to. He had to join, rather reluctantly, his family as they entertained their guest, Margaret. The old lady, as usual, was a treat to be around and gave them some much needed normalcy. It had been too tense over the past few days. 

A bonus to her visit was that their father didn’t drink. Perhaps he wanted to keep up appearance, or maybe he was worried about being judged too harshly by an elder of the community. It wasn’t clear. But Hector was happy for it either way. 

After he’d eaten—grim-grain, as usual. Though Margaret brought some plum flakes—Hector made his way back to his room, telling his family he was heading to cultivate. Mirae informed him she’d be doing the same after she’d finished cleaning up the kitchen. He debated helping her with the cleaning. His sister needed time to cultivate as well. But he thought better of it. 

He would strengthen those around him. But he had to help himself before he could help anyone else. 

“Alright,” Hector said, dusting off his trousers, as he took a seat on his mediation mat—he’d finally be using it for its intended purpose. “How many days has it been since I’ve actually sat down and cultivated? I don’t know.” 

Hector, closing his eyes, calmed his breath as he brought his attention within himself. The blood flowed through his veins, following the gentle beat of his heart. There, between the beats, between the calm, he found what he was looking for. He followed it, losing himself in the rhythm. 

Moments later, he blinked and finding himself in his soulscape. Water rested at his ankles, and he, sighing, moved his feet, sloshing it around. Part of him expected to see the pedestals, with the Talent trees sitting atop of them. But no, he wasn’t in the Talent garden space. 

“There you are,” he said, smiling as he turned. There, a few paces a way from him, floating casually in the air, was a cluster of light. The light was made of of at least a hundred mana motes that he’d gathered over the past four years. They jostled as they all moved around each other, vibrating and giving off a subtle light.  

That is four years’ worth of work. I don’t know whether to be depressed or somewhat impressed that I’ve kept going for so long.

Hector shook his head and let out a sigh. White strands of hair fall over his eyes, obscuring his vision. He’d have to cut it soon. It was becoming a problem. Taking a breath, he looked off into the void. Would it work? [Awakened Soul], was the sort of Talent he’d been hoping to get. It had to work. 

“System!” Hector called into the endless void of his soulscape. “I would like to bind to the [Awakened Soul] Talent.” The water at his feet rippled as the void shook and he glanced to the sky. 

————————————————

///: “Request has been acknowledged. Your manipulation energy has been consumed, you will be notified when it is next available.”

————————————————

The Talent arced through the void, shooting towards him. A line of white light traced behind it like a shooting star. Hector paused. He’d never seen a shooting star back on earth, nor had he ever seen one over the skies of Middlec. But now he had his own personal show right here in his soulscape. It was kind of amazing. 

The Talent leveled out as it descended, soaring towards him. It closed the distance in almost an instant, flashing to a stop before him. He then reached forward, and it moved closer, before he cupped his hand around it and brought the Talent into his chest. 

————————————————

///: “Talent: [Awakened Soul], has been bound .”

————————————————

A warm energy spread out from his chest, washing through him. It was as if he’d just gained a part of himself that he never knew existed. His mind went to the system, willing his status screen to open. It would be good to see what had changed, even if it was just one thing. 

————————————————

///

————————————————

 Hector Jacaranda  

               ———

Cultivation level: [Gravity Forging - 1]

Spirit Root: Moon 

————————————————

STATS                   

 ├─ Body  │ Tier 0 │ Level ( I )     

 ├─ Mind  │ Tier 0 │ Level ( - )     

 └─ Spirit │ Tier 0 │ Level ( - )

————————————————

EQUIPMENT 

 └─ None 

————————————————

TALENTS 

├─ Hearty Body [C] +0 [•○○] (1/3) — Quickening Brace [C] +0  [•○○] (1/3)

├─ Spark Capacitor [C] +0 [•○○] (1/3) — Resonant Shout [C] +0  [•○○] (1/3)

└─ Awakened Soul [C] +0 [•○○] (1/3)

————————————————

TECHNIQUES:

└─ [Orion Fist] (Journeyman: 90%) — [Orion Leaping Strike] (Novice: 20%)

————————————————

///

————————————————

That’s not too bad if I do say so myself. I’ve come a long way from that simple [Tough Body] Talent. And it hasn’t even been that long.

Hector smiled, letting the warmth flow away as he made his way over to the lagrange point and sat beneath the cluster of his affinited mana motes. The water rippled as he took a seat and glanced around the void. This was it. 

He’d meditated so many times before—at least the Hector he’d been before the transmigration occurred did. But somehow this one was the most never wracking. If this didn’t work, then everything would amount to nothing. Sure he could keep getting Talent after Talent. But how far would that take him? In the end, he’d just die to someone in a higher realm—or of old age, but that was unlikely in the slum. 

No. If this didn’t work then, there was nothing he could do about it—not that he knew of, anyway. But still. Hector glanced up, focusing on the void. The chaotic mana motes could come from any direction, but they would always originate from the sky of the void. 

Slow and sometimes one at a time. Easily counted. Easily lamented. It was never enough to get him to where he should be—more so where he deserved to be. But most of all, the amount would never be enough to keep up with his friends. Would this supposed increase keep him in line with them? 

Hector’s gut knotted as he rested his hands on his knee, one finger tapping continuously. Right now, nothing had happened. He didn’t know if it would be a significant change or a small one. There was an odd comfort in that. But what did he really have to worry about? 

From when he’d taken his lumps as a child, to the first time he used [Quickening Brace] on that street thug. All the way to when he’d put two guards on the ground, with abilities he’d never dreamed of before. In all these times, the system had never failed him. 

Sure the skill could go onto cool down, but it was predictable. Hector placed his hand to the side and ran it through the waters of the soulscape. The liquid passed through his fingers in a gentle stream. Calm. Smooth. The system, in a way, had his back—even if it would change his emotions so he could use it. He let out a breath 

One, two, three, four, five, six…

As he counted higher and higher, his heartbeat slowed. He breathed to the rhythm, letting his breath fall on every second number. But he paused as the system screen popped up before him. 

————————————————

///: “Host a primary analysis of your soulscape has returned several anomalous results. Having conducted a deeper scan of your soulscape and thus your spirit root, it has been concluded that there appears to be an artificial restriction put in place.”

————————————————

Hector frowned as he read the message and read it again. He didn’t understand what did the system mean by an artificial restriction. Was that normal? If not, how had it gotten there? He wet his lips, his gaze becoming unfocused as he processed the information—at least tried to. Was this the reason his cultivation was so slow? This restriction.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Hector asked. If he had known before, perhaps he could have done something—though what exactly wasn’t clear. Perhaps Kamble knew something. He lowered his eyes. The calm waters were a stark contrast to the mess of his mind. 

————————————————

///: “A full scan of your soulscape could not be conducted from outside its boundaries.”

————————————————

“I see.” Hector combed his fingers through his hair. On one hand, this confirmed that the system wasn’t as pervasive as he’d thought. From the sounds of it, the system didn’t have full access to every part of him. That could be a good thing—maybe. But it meant it was limited. Which presented a problem. 

“System,” Hector said, voice tight. This could be a breakthrough, point. If there was a restriction, there had to be a way to lift it, and that would mean he wasn’t destined to be terrible at cultivation after all. “Can you lift this restriction?” 

————————————————

///: “Unfortunately, the restriction can not be lifted.”

————————————————

The words hit him like a brick, sending shock waves thorough his body as his breath caught in his chest. Would this mean the Talent would be useless? Would this mean his cultivation speed would be unaffected? Hector pinched the bridge of his nose and let out his breath. There was a restriction on his spirt root and the system couldn’t lift it. What now? 

Perhaps this was why he was feeling so tense? Perhaps this was why, for once, he doubted the system. He didn’t know how this restriction got there and who or what had placed it on him? 

“System, will this restriction limit the Talent in any way? Also, do you know how this restriction even got there?” 

————————————————

///: “There is no indication of how the restriction was placed on the host’s soul root. As for how the Talent will be affected, that is not clear.”

————————————————

Hector’s heart dropped as he frowned. Water rippled at his thigh as he shifted his weight. This was all a mess. He now had another problem on his growing list, and this new one couldn’t be solved—at least from the sounds of it—by getting another Talent. Who knew in what other way having his soul root restricted affected him? 

Could he even advance to the Core Formation realm—if he made it that far? He didn’t know how it worked—it’s not like was friend or had family that were in the Core Formation—but having your spirit root restricted would most likely affect that, right? 

Raising a hand and placing it on his chest, Hector took several deep breaths. The air filled his lungs as his hectic thoughts calmed. He glanced down, reaching for the purple tooth necklace that rested against his chest. A wave of calm washed over him, as he gripped the necklace tight, knuckles whitening. What was done was done. 

He glanced up to the lagrange point and the affinited mana motes that jostled around each other. The whole thing was a dense cluster of energy that he’d built up over the years, and he hadn’t got this far by over thinking things. He let out a breath.

Right now, all he could do was cultivate. If the Talent worked, he’d have his answer. If it didn’t, nothing changed. But at least now he knew why—and with some luck, he could do something about it. 

Calming his mind, Hector took another deep breath. He closed his eyes and then slowly released it, pulling on the void as he did. 

It responded. The ground shook, shaking the water, sending small waves splashing onto Hector’s chest. What was happening? He pushed on—stopping now could harm his cultivation. Whatever was happening was not normal. Something was wrong.

Sorry for the wait, everyone.

Thanks for your patience. This chapter, as a treat, is a little longer.

Chapter 46: Can you really have too much choice?

Who could that be at this time of the day? 

The old creaky room door slide close as Mirae left the room. Hector made his way over to the window and peeked through the shutters. The streets were now mostly empty. A few of the homeless—a group who somehow suffered more than the average slum dweller—mild about. Perhaps they were looking for somewhere to sleep. 

Down the street, a faint glow could be seen coming from just around the corner. The Tavern—a place Hector still couldn’t go—was probably in full swing as more of those who worked day shifts got down to drinking. It was a wonder his dad wasn’t in there. That was at least something he appreciated about his father in this world. He always tried to be at home when he could. 

Hector let the shutters slap close as he moved away. The muffled voices of Mirae, his father, and what sounded like old lady Margaret came from the kitchen. It was a surprise that the old bird even left her house, though it was nice that she visited. Margaret was always nice to him. 

The floor boards creaked underfoot as he moved over to his bed, bent down, and reached underneath it, gripping the meditation mat. It scrapped across the wood as he pulled it out, wrenching it into the air. It flew and slapped onto the floor, skidding to a stop neatly in the center of the room. Hector glanced to the system notification still at the side of his vision. 

————————————————

///: “All Talent saplings have finished growing. Please enter Talent Garden space to collect them, and plant new Talents.”

————————————————

I would say it took long enough. But I’d be lying if I said I had a lot of time to sit around and wait for it. I wonder what the Systems got for me this time.

Hector walked over to the mat and bent down, grunting—an old habit—as he reached for the straps of his sandals. He undid them and kicked his shoes off, sending them clattering to the side of the room. He then sat on the mat. A sense of calm washed over him. There was something so peaceful about being in either the soulscape, or the Talent Garden.

He rolled his shoulder, feeling the calm within himself. “System begin the Talent Garden space.” 

The world melted away once again, and a moment later, Hector found himself standing in the void. The waters of the void sloshed against his ankle. Comforting. He moved his feet; the water glowed its usual blue as he did. 

He smiled then directed his attention to the marble pedestals and the Talent plants resting atop them standing in front of him. “Seems I wasn’t so lucky this time,” Hector said, walking towards them, water sloshing at his feet. 

Of the three pots, only one had three Talents sprouting from its Talent tree. The other two trees had one Talent each. Was it a great haul? No. But it was better than nothing. He chose the pedestal at the end first. A small wave rippled against the pedestal as he stopped in front of it. 

Raising a hand, Hector reached out and touched it. Much like last time, the plant disappeared into golden flecks. Slowly at first, one fleck at a time, until they all fall away like a swarm of golden butterflies. Three glowing white Talents were left floating in the air in front of him. 

He reached for the first one, moving his hand around it, then pulling back. The words of the system popped up as his eyes wonder around the scrawl decorating the Talents surface. 

————————————————

///: Fearbolt: “The Talent holder form a ball of fear in their palm that they can then hurl at a target. Upon contact, temporary fear is induced.”

Cooldown is 3 hours. Increased stacks of Fearbolt can enhance Talent.

————————————————

Not exactly what I’m looking for, but it could be good if I need to stun someone quickly. Or at the very least, get away again. But still, does that make it worth keeping? Though, that’s the Talent right now. I have no idea what it will be like in the later ranks. 

Hector released the skill, leaving it to float off to the side. He frowned for a moment as he considered the Text. “System, would it be possible to add the Rank of the Talent so that I can see at a glance what it is? It could be a problem in the future when I gather more, and have to just assume.” His gaze drifted up towards the inky black void. The Talents wouldn’t be as easy to discern when they were up there. It was like trying to tell the colour of a star from its light alone. 

————————————————

///: “It was deemed as a non priority. But that can be done.”

————————————————

“Thank you.” He said, reaching for the next Talent. 

————————————————

///: Personal Purification: [Common] “The holder of this Talent is able to neutralise harmful substance inside one’s body. Up to a limit. Substance that are deemed harmful to the body will be processed.”

“Cooldown is 6 hours. Increased stacks of Personal Purification can enhance Talent”

————————————————

Hector’s lips pulled into a smile as his mind went back to the pill. He still didn’t know exactly what it did, and it was most likely defective. After all, no one would throw away a perfectly good pill. The one thing that had stopped him from using it—despite the possible benefits—was the risk of harm. 

Not only that, but eating a low grade pill with too many impurities could stunt your growth and limit the ability to channel mana outsides the body. Not something people would normally worry about, as you weren’t allowed to sell pills below average grade—not legally, anyway. 

But with this Talent, things had changed. Hector ran his finger along the Talent’s smooth surface, his skin gliding across it with zero resistance. He had to use this one, if not just to eat the pill. He didn’t know how effective the pill would be once purified, but it was better than nothing. 

His heart fluttered as he pushed the Talent to the side, then reached for the last Talent of this first tree. So far, he’d had quite a good bag. The fear Talent had its uses, but the purification one was a showstopper. Would it allow him to costume pills without worrying about their effects—provided he actually found another one? 

Would he find another one? The dump was many things, but it was hardly a gold mine. It was more likely Hector would find the shell of a pill than the whole thing. The talent gave off a low hum as he reached for it—some of the only noise in the void aside from the sloshing water. 

He cupped it in his hands and pulled it towards him, as the systems words formed before of him. Just in front of the Talent. 

————————————————

///: Growth Touch: [Common] “The Talent holder, once they have placed their hand on a suitable surface, can increase the growth of low-lying plants around them. The plants will grow until dense shrubbery is formed, creating difficult terrain to move through. This Talent is limited to a certain distance around the Talent holder. The shrubbery disappears after 1 hour”

“Cooldown is 4 hours. Increased stacks of Growth Touch can enhance Talent”

————————————————

Hector ran his tongue across his front teeth as he re-read the words. It wasn’t bad. But for him, it was useless. He sighed, pushing the Talent off to the side, as he turned to the last two pedestals. The bag had just got considerably worse. What could he use the last Talent for? Mirea may benefit from it in her garden—for an hour, anyway. But that wasn’t exactly his main focus right now. 

He, water sloshing at his feet, stepped over to the second podium and touched the plant. Which fell away in a shower of gold, just like the previous. This Talent wasn’t as exciting either. The bar had been set by the purification Talent. And the Talent, [Stone Throw], turned out to be simple. It would allow him to rip a rock free from the earth and hit someone with it. Not amazing. 

Sure he had no doubt that higher ranks would be something to think about. But right now, there was no difference between him using that Talent and him picking up a brick off the floor and throwing it at someone. Besides, he didn’t have an unlimited amount of Talent he could use at one time. 

Sighing, Hector pushed the [Stone Throw] Talent off to the side and moved over to the last pedestal. One Talent sat atop the Talent tree swaying gently—where exactly did that wind come from? The void was empty for the most part. He reached towards the Talent, but paused before he could touch it. 

This would be the last one, for today anyway. He wouldn’t have the time to sit and boost the growth speed tonight, as he needed to cultivate. It was slow, but t was something he had to do. And tomorrow, he had to go and meet his friends. 

His heart tightened. It needed to be something good. Though, if he was honest [Personal Purification] was already a lot. Could he ask for much more? 

Hector placed a hand on the Talent tree and it fall away in a shower of gold, leaving one Talent floating in the space above the pot. The white Talent hummed with a soft light, as if inviting him to hold it. Hector reached forward and grabbed it, bringing it towards his chest as his eyes scanned over the scrawl writhing on its surface. 

————————————————

///: Awakened Soul: [Common] “The Talent holder’s soulscape is expanded, allowing from the holder to draw in more Chaotic mana motes from the environment. With this, the Holder’s ability to draw in mana is essentially doubled.   ”

“Passive. Increased stacks of Awakened Soul can enhance Talent”

————————————————

Hmmmmm… 

Hector took a step back, releasing the Talent and letting it float in front of him. He regarded it. The shimmering white surface had suddenly become the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. The way it floated in the air. Serene. Calm. Unearthly. Was this it? The Talent that he’d been hoping for. 

A bubble of excitement grew in his chest as his lips peeled back into a smile. This was the actual showstopper. This Talent. This would allow him to change his future. 

Hector almost told the system to close the space right there and then, but caught himself. All three plant pots were now empty, and he had four Talnets floating off to the side. He couldn’t just leave them like that. He let out a shaky breath, plucking [Awakened Soul] out of the air then and moving it under his arm, as he made his way over to his cluster of Talents. 

Which one would he re-plant? It could only be two. Because if he was right, he should have eight fragments that he collected. “System, can I get a list of all the fragments I have so far?” 

————————————————

///: Loading list…

————————————————

///:

| Mystic - 2

| Uncommon - 8

///:

————————————————

Ah, yeah. I had eight uncommon fragments, didn’t I. Shame. If I had snagged a rare, I could have at least got a few uncommon Talents out of this. Well, it can’t be helped. With these eight, I should be able to make one seed using five of them. 

“System,” Hector said, smiling eger to get this over and done with. As soon as he finished here, it would be time to start the most productive cultivation session he’d ever had. “Bring me five of the uncommon fragments.” 

He released the [Awakened Soul] Talent, letting it float off. It moved over to the other four Talents, stopping next to them, forming a neat file. The Talents all hummed with a subtle light.   

Hector glanced to the sky, watching as a line of lights zipped through the void. The lines dipped, falling towards him. The lights—fragments—glowed a subtle green as they got closure, stopping a just before him and rotating in a circle. It wasn’t surprising that they were a different colour. After all, it was how you could identify the rank in Talnets so it made sense that it carried over to the fragments. 

He raised a hand, holding his palm out flat. The circle of fragments moved, stopping over his palm and hovering in place. Hector shifted, water rippling at his feet as he took it in. It was a shame they wouldn’t form an uncommon seed. He was so close, yet so far. 

“System,” Hector said, clenching his other hand into a fist, as it hung at his side. “Fuse them into a Talent seed.” 

The hovering fragment shook before racing forward and slamming into each other with a crack. The smell of oil went up his nose as a subtle heat radiated out onto his palm. Tightening and squeezing, the cluster of fragments glowed brighter as lights snaked from the core before falling back in, leaving a white trail. The trails formed over and over again until they all formed the shape of a seed. 

With a pop, releasing a ring of white light, a new Talent seed hovered just above Hector’s palm. He raised his other hand, grabbing the seed in both. Did those lines and the way they formed have anything to do with the scrawl he saw on a normal Talent? Water sloshed at his feet as he made his way back over to the plant pots. 

He stuck his hand in, moving the soil around. It cracked with electricity as he gently dug deeper in. Small mounds of soil, speckled with blue light, gathered at the pot’s edge as he did. Why didn’t he feel anything? A jolt, a spark, he felt none of the things he come to understand he’d feel when he touched something electrical. Was it even electricity? 

He brought his hand back and regarded the hole. It was more than deep enough and would have to do for now. Placing the seed in, feeling its smooth surface slip from his grip, Hector sighed. He covered the seed with soil, obscuring its white light. He’d water it when the other two were planted, now it was time to see which Talent he’d keep. 

The five glowing white Talents floated in the air, giving off a subtle hum. White light flickered off their surface, dappling Hector’s T-shirt with patterns of light. He trudged over to them, water splashing as he did. Small waves accented with blue rippled off from his steps into the distant void. He regarded the Talents. Which one would he choose? He had two in mind that he was not losing, so that only left the [Fearbolt], [Growth Touch], and [Stone Throw]. 

None of them were bad, per se. But they didn’t have as much utility as Hector would have liked. While the growth skill might be good for Mirae, it would only help so much and, who knew when he was going to get another two. Though that was true for all his Talents.

He raised a hand and held his face. Last time he’d almost got rid of a Talent that had proved vital. He couldn’t make the same mistake. There was only one Talent that could be used no matter the situation, not needing a suitable environment or rocks around. [Fearbolt], that would be the Talent Hector would keep. 

With a wave of his hand, the three Talents he was keeping shot off into the air. Leaving behind the two he’d plant. He then spent the next few minutes converting them into seeds before planting them. 

He dusted his hands off with a few slaps—there was no dirt on them; it was just what made sense. With the seeds planted, he could now focus on more important things. 

“Hector!” Mirea’s voice boomed through the void. “It’s time for dinner.” His smile cracked his lips. He’d timed it perfectly. Things were really looking up. His chest swelled as images of him drawing in heaps of chaotic mana came to mind. As soon as dinner was finished, it would all truly begin. 

Sorry Everyone.

Tomorrow's chapter will be coming out a lot later. Somethings come up at work and I have to go in early, so I won't be able to post at my usual time. So expect the chapter to be out by 7pm GMT. Again, my deepest apologies; see you tomorrow.

Chapter 45: Isn't it always fun to learn new things?

Hector sat back on the bed, bracing himself on his knees. “A Talent is something a lot of people have. Well, not a lot. Actually, they seem pretty rare,” Hector said, frowning. He drew a circle on the ground with the toe of his sandals as he took a moment. “They are things that make people special.” 

“Special? How do they make people special?” Mirae said, widening her purple eyes.

“Well yours,” he said, bring up Mirae stat screen.

————————————————

/// 

Cultivation level: [None]

Talent: [Dreams of Time [•○○] (1/3)]

Talent Fragment: [None]

/// 

————————————————

He mentally clicked on the Talent, bringing up its description. 

————————————————

///: Dreams of Time: Allows the user to dream of the future, though they cannot control what they see or when it occurs. Furthermore, they are limited to only seeing a maximum of 30 years into the future. Increased stacks of [Dreams of Time] can enhance this ability.

————————————————

“Yours allows you to see up to a maximum of thirty years into the future,” Hector said, “though what you see can’t be controlled.” 

Mirae pursed her lips as she looked off to the side. “Is that all it does?” 

“I mean, it’s pretty strong—it’s the highest tier that I know about. I think. And thirty years is a pretty long time.” 

The bed creaked a little as Mirae lent back, her eyes moving to the ceiling. “And what other tiers are there?” 

“I think there are about five tiers in total. I’m not too sure, my own talent just gives me information on them.” He was lying, but it there was no use bombarding her with everything at once. She needed to focus on her Talent. At least for now. “The ranks go from common, to uncommon, to rare, to legendary, to mystic.” 

“And what rank is mine?” 

“Yours is a Mystic rank Talent.” Hector glanced to the side of the room. His gaze ran down the pile of trash sitting in the corner. The cracks and crevice running thorough it were like a ravine on a mountain. It would be nice to get away for all this one day. 

“Hector,” Mirae said, pulling him back from his daydreaming. He turned to her and perked up. She subtly shook her head. “Are you alright?” 

“Yes. What was I saying?”

“You said my Talent was a mystic ranked talent,” Mirae said, tucking a strand of white hair behind her ear. “But I don’t get it. Does that mean that this entire time you knew I had something like this? But you still choose not to believe me all those times.” 

Hector chuckled, getting to his feet and stretching. His back let out two satisfying pops as he sighed. “I only awakened my Talent recently. The other day, in fact. I only put it all together later on. So I kinda owe you an apology.” 

“By the lake you do,” Mirae said. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to sit in this house knowing you were going out to get hurt? Or that something bad was going to happen. Just for you to say, it was just a bad dream.” 

You think I would have learned to see a pattern? But then again, when wasn’t something going wrong in the slums?  

“I’m sorry.” Hector said, lowering his head. He should have put more faith in her back then. Even though he had changed, he still technically did all those things.

Mirae huffed, but let out a sigh. Was all forgiven? Perhaps, but only time could tell. Hector moved back over to the window and peeked through the old wooden shutters. The streets had quietened as night set in. Old men coming back from a day labour somewhere laughed and chatted. One who was rather short stumbled on his feet—the alcohol was probably catching up with him. Drinking before, during, and after work was a normal thing. Especially when the water could make you sick if a cultivator didn’t purify it. 

“But, you said your Talent awakened just recently,” Mirae said, fiddling with her thumbs. “Do you know what triggered it? I believe mine awakened when I was about nine.” 

Six years ago. That seems about right. 

She’d had a pretty bad dream back then and woke up screaming during the night. When he and his father got to her, she said she couldn’t remember what the dream was about. But it was really scary. Mirae hadn’t had the dream since. Was it a vision? 

“I don’t know,” he said, turning back to her. “If I did, I would probably try to replicate it.” 

“Hmmm..” Mirae brought a finger to her lip, and Hector moved back over to the bed, the wood creaking under foot as he did. She often thought about things a bit too much, especially when she thought she could help. “I don’t think you should. We don’t know how bad it could be.” 

“Well, I don’t know how to.” Hector sat back on the bed with a thud and rested his hands on his knees. “Anyway. I really want to focus on helping you use your Talent.” 

She glanced up at him, her lips tight and her brow creasing. “How do you plan to do that?” 

“I’ve spent a lot of time with my Talent over the days. It’s not that hard to use, and I think I’m getting quite good at it.” 

“Is that why you’ve been leaving the house randomly lately? Were you going out there looking for Talents?” 

Hector swallowed, his neck heating up a bit. Seemed she’d been watching him. He’d need to be a bit more careful in the future. It was one thing to have his sister notice him, but if it was someone else, they may ask a bit too many questions—though it wasn’t like anyone was worrying about what a random slum rat was doing. But it didn’t hurt to be careful.

“Yeah, something like that,” he said, glancing at the creases in his sheets, tracking the folds “If your Talent is anything like mine. I think we could work something out.” 

“So what do I do?” 

“Well, first I’d like to ask you what it’s like when you activate your Talent. Do you feel any sensations of any kind?”

“I wouldn’t say I feel anything if I’m honest. It kind of just happens.” Mirae frowned in thought, bringing a finger to her lip. “If I had to say something, it like I start out dreaming normally, then something just snaps.” 

Sounds similar to a lucid dream. Perhaps it could work the same way. Maybe all that time wasted on the internet back on earth will actually be helpful.

“Have you noticed any common things when you fall into those dreams?” Hector said, “Like do you notice you fingers looking strange?” 

Mirae held out her hands, wiggling her fingers. She had chipped nails, with white lines running across them—back on earth. Someone had told Hector that they’d form when you didn’t drink enough milk. “I don’t remember too much. But I don’t really remember my fingers looking strange,” Mirae said. 

“Alright, I see,” Hector said. Drunk shouts came from outside. More people heading to the tavern down the street, no doubt. Hector glanced at the window as he consider his next words. “When I use my Talent, it feels almost like I’m tugging on something. Does that bring anything up for you?” 

“Hmmmm.” Mirae scrunched her eyes and tapped a finger on her leg. The floor boards creaked in the hallway, and Hector glanced at the door. Was his father going back to the kitchen? Or perhaps he was heading out again. Mirae turned to the door, then back to him. “I can’t say I feel a tugging sensation. I will have to keep an eye out for the things you are describing. Maybe because I’ve never consciously tried to use it, I’ve never noticed.” 

“That could be it.” Hector said, resting a hand on his sheets and leaning back. 

Or maybe your Talent is just tricky to use. I mean she’s the first person I’ve spoken to that even knows about their Talent. Perhaps with the Talents effects often being minor, people don’t really notice them. That or using a Talent requires awakening. 

“Though, Hector, there is something I would like to bring up concerning my Talent, as you call it,” Mirae said, fidgeting with her thumbs. She lowered her eyes, directing her gaze at his sheets. “I mean, it’s kind of the reason I left Mr. Pennybrook’s stall.” 

“You had another vision.”

Mirea nodded, and Hector let out a heavy sigh. He scratched his head and gestured for her to continue. Her Talent was both a benefit and a problem, in the sense that he couldn’t control what she would do, given the advanced information she had access to. 

“In it, I saw you being captured by the guards. It was terrible, and worst of all. Lincoln, he left you to be captured. He didn’t even try to help.” 

“He did?” Hector raised an eyebrow—it was ironic since he’d technically did the same to Lincoln. Was Hector as bad a friend as he thought? Or did they just both think alike in that matter? Though he believed Lincoln could get himself out of that situation. Did Lincoln think the same? “What happed after I was caught?”

“I don’t know. It’s kind of blurry, and I didn’t see that far ahead,” Mirae said with a frown. She fiddled with the end of her brown shorts as her gaze moved to the window. “I also saw someone tell the guards something. But I think they did it some time before you were captured. They might have tipped them off.”

Hector frowned. What did this mean? Did someone betray them? Did someone outside the group know about the plan? While they had already picked a few pockets by the time Mirea arrived, Hector was pretty sure that no one had noticed by that point. Or maybe they had, and he’d not noticed. Either way, it was something to consider. 

“Did you see what the person that tipped them off looked like?” Hector asked, leaning in closer. A few strands of his white hair fall over his eye and he moved them to the side. “Anything that could give us a hint?” 

“No, but it was only one person. That’s all I can say for certain.” 

“Not much to go on, then. Damn” Hector pushed off the bed and stared pacing up and down his room. The floorboards underfoot creaked. He made sure to avoid the loose ones sticking up out of the ground. “I’ll keep this in the back of my mind for now, Mirae, thank you.” 

She nodded, giving him a thin smile. That answer was the best he could give her at the moment. Could he run around and start accusing or questioning his friend when he didn’t even know how or what had happened? No. He also couldn’t tell them that Mirae could see the future. That would open too many questions. 

“Do you trust me, Mirae?” 

She tilted her head to the side, her hair falling over her shoulder as she let out a sigh. “Do I seriously need to answer that question?” Mirae asked.

Hector pursed his lip and let out a laugh. “I suppose not,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I—” 

————————————————

///: “All Talent saplings have finished growing. Please enter Talent Garden space to collect them, and plant new Talents..”

————————————————

Hector paused. His eyes scanning over the system message. His heart fluttered a little as he read the text. This was good news, with everything going on; from the void beast to the pickpocketing operation—at least the start of it, the end not so much—he’d put the Talent growth to the back of his mind. 

“Mirae, I’ve got something to do,” Hector said, giving her an apologetic smile. “If it’s alright with you, we can continue the conversation about the Talents later?” 

Mirae nodded and pushed off the bed, hopping to her feet. “Are you going to look for more Talents?” 

“Not exactly, but I will be meditating for a while,” Hector said. 

“Alright, well, I’m going to start dinner. So, I’ll come and get you when it’s done. I don’t care if you are meditating at that time. Got it. So make sure you finish up before it’s ready.” 

Hector chuckled. Walking forward, he raised a hand and ruffled Mirae’s hair. Who was the older one, exactly? It’s not like he couldn’t look after himself, but Mirae seemed adamant on doing it, he had to thank her for that. 

She slapped his hand away. Puffing out her cheeks and shaking her head before turning and walking to the door. It creaked as she pulled it open, glancing back at him. “For the record, I do trust you. Sometimes, more than I trust myself.” 

“Well, that might be overdoing it a bit. Don’t you think?” Hector said with a chuckle.

“Mirae, you have a visitor!” Their father's voice boomed down the hallway before she could respond. Mirae cocked her head to the side, frowning. But shrugged, waving goodbye to Hector and leaving the room. 

Chapter 44: How hard is it to be an older sibling?

The glossy blue sword gripped between Noella’s greasy ugly fingers glowed with an iridescent light, as the idiot supplied mana to it. A Mana Armamanet—weapons or armour made by Curlian smiths, that had no doubt cost the family a good chunk. What did she do to deserver such a weapon? 

Emela’s frown deepened as she took a step forwarded and narrowed her eyes at her younger half sister. “Why did you get that?” Emela asked. Her heart thumped in her chest, blood subtly bulging through the veins in her neck. “Did father happen to give a reason?” 

Noella sneered, letting out a chuckle and covering her mouth with her other hand. “Aside from the fact that unlike you. I’m a genius who the family didn’t have to waste a bunch of resources on just to get to Gravity Forging five. Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps he just loves me, unlike you, the unlovable cur.” 

Running her tongue along her front teeth, Emela turned to Nyx. The black-haired maid gave her a look that spoke volumes. Noella was pushing it, but Emela wasn’t strong enough to put her in her place. Especially not now that she had a Mana Armament. 

“You should be licking the Mistress boots.” Matilda said, raising her nose up at Emela. If it were anyone else, Matilda would be cowering silently in the back. But not in font of Emela. It didn’t help that Matilda was just two cultivation stages below her—she wasn’t as talented as Nyx, but she had her worth.

Emela ignored the girl and focused on Noella. “When did this happen?” 

“Oh, earlier today. It was a surprise for me after I had just finished a nice twelve hour meditation session.” She said, letting out a chuckle. Emela’s brow twitched, “oh, sorry I forgot. You can barely meditate for two hours. You poor thing.” 

Emela shot forward. But was Nyx was there, blocking her. “Calm down, Mistress,” she said, her voice tight. “She wants you riled up. It wouldn’t end well for you.” 

Noelle stood there, mana sword held at her side, as she ran a finger across the cruel smile hanging on her lips. “The Instructor isn’t here this time, sister. What do you say?” 

Emela scoffed. The idiot thought she was as dumb as her, though she had almost stooped to that level. Emela shook her head, raising a hand and resting it on Nyx’s shoulder. “Thank you, Nyx.” Nyx glanced back at her and nodded. 

“I’ll be on my way now, Noella, if that was all.” Emela said, stepping to the side and moving past Noella and Matilda. Nyx trailed behind. Noelle's face morphed with confusion as she looked to Matilda. 

Placing a hand on her chest, Emela let out a breath. What had she been thinking? Though that was it. She hadn’t been thinking; she was just reacting—a good way to get herself hurt. It was a stupid move, but the toad could really get under her skin sometimes. Nyx stepped next to her, her face as blank as ever. Emela sighed, “Why did he have to give her a Mana Armanemt?” 

“I fear. It’s just the beginning, Mistress. With your departure too the Muddust family, a lot more resources will open up for your siblings. Especially the ones with some signs of talent.” 

Emela sighed. “I suppose so.” Noella was a toad, but she’d been right about one thing. The family had put in a lot of effort to rise Emela’s cultivation level to what it was now. But did that mean she should be hated for it? She hadn’t asked them to. They’d decided for her. 

The crackle of the torches filled the silence as the pleasant smell of lavender swept down the hallway. They near the east wing gardens, and the flowers should be in full bloom—the summer heat would be doing them wonders. The idea of taking a short break crossed her mind. It would be nice to lie in the grass and watch the sunset, if but for a moment. She’d not had the time lately. But could she? No. The Instructor would kill her if she found her lounging. 

“Isn’t that Claymore, Mistress,” Nyx said, inclining her head. Down the hall, standing by the stone arched windows that looked out into the east gardens, stood two boys. Arms flailing widely, his face scrunched up in a frown, one of the boys—Claymore, Emela’s younger brother—argued passionately.

“How can you say the sour beans are better than deep honey apples?” Claymore said, spittle flying from his mouth. Emela chuckled—her little brother could be a bit too passionate about the most pointless things.

“I didn’t say that it was better. Just that a more refined pallet is needed to handle deep honey apples.” The taller boy—Brom, her third half-brother—said. Dressed in a simple white robe, he lent against the marble wall with a calm smile. His short blonde hair swayed gently in the wind as shook his head. “I mean, be serious. What is there to enjoy about something as basic as a sour bean?” 

Claymore’s face tightened as he puffed out his cheeks. Emela, stepping closer, called out to the two before her younger brother could dive right into a diatribe. “Claymore, don’t tell me you’ve been eating sour beans behind mother’s back. What will she say when she finds out?” Emela said with a light chuckle. 

Claymore froze and turned to her, like a deer sensing a predator. His mouth fell open, and he stammered. “I-I haven’t been eating any. I was just talking to Brom about them. That’s it,” the boy said, gripping the sleeves of his white dress shirt. 

Brom shook his head. “Emela, our younger brother, seems to be adamant about liking such base foods.” Brom said, waving a bejeweled hand—he was one of the more flamboyant members of the family.

“Oh. But was it not you, Brom,” Emela said, “who said one’s taste is a gateway to one’s heart and thus should not be judged?” 

Brom turned to her and tilted his head, then tilted it again. He looked to the ceiling as if in careful thought, and Emela smiled. She’d caught him out once more—it wasn’t hard to catch someone who loved to act as if they were an intellectual. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t smart, just not as smart as he thought. 

“You raise a good point, sister,” Brom said, before turning to Claymore. “While I think you pallet could use some work, it would be wrong of me to assume to know a better taste when I am not you. I hope you can forgive me, dear brother.” He crossed an arm and rested the elbow of the other on the back of its hand, bringing a finger to his lip as he waited for a response from Claymore. 

The young one looked at Emela, and she inclined her head to Brom. Her brother knew what to do. She wouldn’t have to tell him twice. Claymore stomped his little feet and turned to Brom with a look of defeat—it wasn’t like he’d actually lost. If anything, her younger brother appeared more upset that he didn’t get to say his piece. 

“While I don’t fully understand what you said…” Claymore’s gaze flickered to her, and Emela urged him on. “We shouldn’t judge each other.” 

“There, we go,” Emela said. “Isn’t that better?” She stepped forward and hugged her brother from behind, giving him a soft kiss on the head. “What are you doing out her, anyway? Shouldn’t you be studying?” 

“I was, but the master Ulgan was called away,” Claymore said, chuckling as Emela tickled him. “Stop that—But then I ran into Brom, and he wasn’t doing anything, so I started chatting with him.” 

“I’ll inform you that, in fact, I was doing something,” Brom said, rolling his eyes. “It just wasn’t that important, and I felt you looked a little lonely, so I acquiesced.” 

“You weren’t doing anything.” Emela and Claymore said in unison.

“Oh, Nyx, you're here,” Claymore said, wriggling out of Emela’s grip and stepping over to the maid. “Did you go with Emela out to the city today?” 

“Yes,” Nyx said, giving Claymore a bow. “I did.” 

“So what were you doing before our dear brother stopped you?” Emela asked Brom. It wasn’t that she wanted to pry, but there were very few places that you could find Brom in the manor that weren’t the library or his jewelry room. 

Perhaps I should ask him if he’s heard of those creatures—no, that would expose the fact that I was near the festival at the very least. 

“No, where important. I was just running some errands for Drion.” 

“Errands?” She asked. Down the hall, a maid exited one of the room with a stack of towels in her hands, her face one of frustration. What was wrong with her? Not that the worries of the help were her problem. “Why would he send you on an errand?”

“I wasn’t sent. I was asked,” Brom said, adjusting himself on the marble wall. “And if you must know. He asked me, as it seems the city council is in quite a huff at the moment. He didn’t say why, though.” 

“Oh.” Emela turned to Nyx, and they both shared a look. Before Emela turned back to Brom. “When did he leave?” Drion being the oldest, it made sense that he’d go—the city could hardly expect a Mana Ignition cultivator like her father to heed their call.

“Not long ago.” 

“I see.” 

I wonder if the family will have to get involved in this matter. Surely the Pheonix Company can handle it themselves. If anything, the Flamelights would want that to be the case. 

“Anyway, where are you two going?” Brom brought a bejeweled hand up and ran his fingers thorough his hair. “I feel I haven’t seen you in the library as much as I should have as of late.” 

“Well—” 

Before she could answer, heavy footsteps falling in unison sounded down the hall. The maid, still carrying the towels, pressed herself against the wall before she could turn the corner as a column of guards rounded it. They marched quickly down the hall. Spear in hand and shields on their back. The blue crystal like helmets they wore shimmered in the sunset and they moved through the hall. 

Emela and the group stepped aside—they wouldn’t hurt them, but it wouldn’t do to get in the way of the manor guards when they were marching somewhere. 

“I wonder where they are going,” Emela muttered as the group of nine men and women marched by. The thundering of their boots caused several doors along the hallway to open as curious maids stuck their heads out to look.

“If I had to take a guess at it. I would say they are heading to the main hall,” Brom said, craning his neck down the hallway. I mean, it is in that direction.

Hector smiled as Mirae took a seat on the edge of his bed. It didn’t creak under her weight like it did his own, evidently she didn’t weigh nearly as much as him. He strolled across the creaky floor boards avoiding the loose wooden plank as he did. A cool breeze blew through the room, the scent of the sewer tickling his nose. Had it not been cleaned yet? 

I suppose with the festival on. They had other priorities to deal with. 

“So, what are these Talents?” Mirae asked, as Hector took a seat on his bed. It creaked under his weight, the wood groaning in protest. What sounded like a snap came from the back of the bed, but it held firm. He let out a sigh. Should he have stayed in the workshop? 

“I don’t even know where to start, sis,” he said, rubbing his sweaty palm on his pants. “It’s not really something that you can just jump into. Or maybe that’s just the easiest way to do it.” 

Mirae nodded, perking up as he spoke. Her purple eyes almost sparkled as she looked at him. She absent-mindedly began to smoothe out his shits—even now she was still trying to take care of him. 

“Alright, her we go,” he said, letting out a deep breath. “Also, what we talk about right now has to be kept a secret between the two of us. You understand.” The cool breeze gently brushed across his ankle. Was it wise to leave the window open? 

Mirae nodded as Hector stood up and closed the window. Dimming the noise coming from outside. “Okay, let’s talk about your talent. [Dreams of Time]”

Chapter 43: Why do the annoying one's seem to come in pairs?

Acalla turned away, hoping to find something to get her out of this situation. A few Initiates walked around, pulling corpses from smashed stalls. Some bodies were so mangled they were more impressions of a person than the real thing. Did the Initiates perhaps need some guidance? An inspiring speech or two might not go a miss—not like she had one in the quiver. But improvising was a skill. 

No, I would probably do more harm than good. The last thing I need right now is Initiates falling over themselves to impress me. 

Simon spoke to a few of the Initiates that had been around the beast. His gaze flickered to her now and then, making her skin crawl. The man was probably thinking of some way to embarrass her. She wasn’t a Glademoor—not in name—anymore. Instead, taking up the last name Green, like all those who had abandoned the Glademoor family before her. 

But Simon, the arse, still thought it prudent to embarrass her as if they were somehow in competition. Was he not receiving enough love at home? She bit into her bottom lip and continued scanning the area. A light smile came to her face. Over by what remained of a softberry stand stood John—Simon’s cousin—one of the more reasonable Flamelights. 

Thank the heavens. Hopefully, if that nuisance comes over, he’ll show some restraint in front of his cousin. 

John’s actions in the fight earlier flowed through her mind as she stepped over to the man. Groups of Initiates would fall silent as she passed, their chatter dying like snuffed candles. She inwardly sighed. It was something she’d wanted to avoid—drawing too much attention could be bad when in such a disastrous situation. 

She nodded her head as John spotted her. Her fellow cultivator nodded, back turning to his second—a person who filled the same role Silkmon did for her—to say something. She came to a stop before him as he was finishing. “That’s not good. The High Nest is going to throw a fit,” He said, pinching his nose and resting one hand on his hip. 

Acalla's gaze flickered to the scroll clutched in the second’s hand. Was that the casualty report? She kissed her teeth. She hadn’t read it before sending Silkmon off. A minor error on her part. “How bad is it?” Acalla asked, pointing her chin at the scroll.

John’s fiery red hair shimmered in the soft wind, each strand licking through the air like flame. Practically alive. What aspected fire mana did to the hair of a mana cultivator was interesting, to say the least. “Depends on your perspective,” John said. “A few dead mortals—at least three hundred so far. And some annoying losses for the city guard, about twenty of them.” 

Is that it? I’d thought it would be much worse by the look on his face. Since when did John care so much for the mortals? They’d have those numbers again in twenty to thirty years.

She raised a questioning brow, causing John to shake his head. “The deaths aren’t the problem. It’s the disappearances.”

“Dissaperances?” Acalla asked.

“It seems we know now know why they would want us here in force. And we arrogantly accepted, not even questioning their motives.” 

“Are you suggesting that we were the targets?” Acalla asked, her brow creasing. Around the clearing, the initiates continued their grizzly duty. Had there been more of them? She couldn’t say—the life of an initiate was hardly her priority.

“Us, the guards, the civilians. I wouldn’t be surprised if those bastards took the street cats.” John let out a breath. Wisps of fire mana flickered through the air as they left his mouth. “It was a trap. One we thought we needn’t worry about. But it cost us.” 

“The losses?” Acalla asked, directing her attention to John’s second. The man fidgeted under her gaze and patted down his dark red robes as he looked to John—she may be a Core Formation cultivator, but protocol still mattered. 

“Tell her.” John said, looking off to the side. Acalla followed his gaze. She frowned and rolled her eyes. Walking directly towards them, Simon had a carefree smile on his face, and looked as if the sun was shining out of his backside. Typical. 

“Ahem. We estimate that at least four hundred mortals were taken,” said the second, “roughly forty guards and about fifty initiates.” 

“What!” Acalla’s eyes went wide. “Fifty. How in the heavens did they manage to take fifty of our people without us noticing?” 

The second gulped as he stepped back under the pressure of her gaze. “That’s still being investigated, ma’am. Though we hope to have leads by the end of the day.” 

“It’s a headache, I know,” John said, crossing his arms. A group of initiates hurried by, carrying several bodies on a stretcher. Several of the corpses’ limbs were smashed and faces ruined. John stared at them. What was he thinking? They’d both been mortals once—over 60 years ago, in her case—but that didn’t mean they couldn’t still die. “This was all so senseless,” John sighed, “how could High Nest not see this coming?” 

I mean, we hardly did. But those old men should know better by now. 

John stood in silence for a moment. Acalla, not wanting to disturb his thoughts, said nothing. Eventually—as Simon stopped just next to them—he looked up. “Thanks for the save Cousin” John said, reaching for a handshake. 

Simon accepted. Smiling at the man, before turning to her. “Acalla, weren’t you luck I was in the area when I was?” 

In the area. You were supposed to be guarding it. What are you talking about?

“Yes, Simon. I we were lucky to have your nearby,” Acalla said, looking to John. The man shook his head in dismay as he released his cousin’s hand. Acalla took a breath and regarded Simon. He, unlike them, had lively red robes, distinguishing him as the commander—He was in charge of all four High captains in the third company. “Have you heard the report?” 

“No, not as of yet. I was hoping you two would fill me in.” He said, raising his nose. He wanted to look down at her, and Acalla wasn’t about to be offended. How had he even gotten the position? A yes, connection, as well as cultivating prowess. Lucky fool had made it to Core Formation six already.

“Right,” Acalla said, gesturing to John’s second. “He was just filling us in. Apparently, we have lost fifty initiates.” The words hurt coming out of her mouth, like spitting up glass. How had they lost so many? 

Simon let out a sigh. “That is a shame. Seems we will have to up the recruitment event later this year.” 

Acalla frowned, looking at him in confusion. John did the same. She looked from him to the ruins of the festival beyond. Crows hawking and hungry circled over head. Did this man not see what had had happened? 

They never change, do they? 

“Though we will need someone to blame this on,” Simon said. The mans eyes sparkled as he spotted something behind her. “Here comes a suitable scapegoat. Captain Kain!” 

Acalla frowned and followed, his gaze. Dark red robes swaying in the wind, Captain can trailed behind Silkmon. His eyes seemed to become darker with each step as he approached, and Acalla’s chest tightend. This was not a good way to meet an old student. 

“Ma’m. I have brought Kain, but could not find Asomond.” Silkmon said, coming to a stop at Acalla’s side.

“High captains, Commander,” Kain said, the scar that ran under his left eye twitching as he spoke. “The situation is not good.” 

“Were, aware. Young Kain,” Simon said lazily, waving a hand dismissively at Kain’s words. “But what’s done is done. Now is the time for smoothing things over.” 

“Yes sir,” Kain said, “But before that. I bring troubling news. I hope you can listen.” 

Acalla raised an eyebrow. What had gotten him so worked up? Aside from the fact he seemed to be aware that he’d be sacrificed to the city council. She crossed her arms, focusing on Kain as his gaze flickered between them. 

“Asomond was taken.”

Well heavens.

Emela sighed as she and Nyx walked thorough the Halls of the Frostkeep manor, heading towards the study of Instructor Shallowcold. They had got back to the manor earlier enough. Not needing to explain where they had been to the guards—if you were late, the family needed to know why. Not like that really increased security. Was the night more conducive to a successful plot? 

Emela, turning her head to Nyx, regarded the girl as they walked down the soft Ice blue rug that ran all throughout the manor—Emela couldn’t imagine how none cultivators even cleaned something like this. Nyx walked in silence, as usual. What was she thinking about? 

I wonder if Nyx is concerned with our talk yesterday. Especially with that Glademoor—well Ex-Glademoor woman’s offer. 

Emela reached for one of the two blond ponytails resting on her chest and fiddled with its end as she walked. She rubbed the strands between her fingers as images of those creatures played in her mind. What were they? They stunk when they were killed, that was for sure. She’d learnt a lot over her seventeen years. But she’d never seen or heard about a beast matching that description. What had the Glademoor woman called it? She couldn’t remember. 

The touches hanging on the wall glowed with a warm blue light—the aspected mana stones would keep them burning for quite some time. The light sparks of blue flame flickered through the air, dancing with each other before petering out. Emela let out a breath. “Do you think the others made it back home alright, Nyx?”

Nyx’s short black bob swayed as she nodded. “I don’t see why they wouldn’t. The Pheonix company killed all of those creatures, and the City Guard no doubt increased its presence on the street to keep the slum dwellers in check.” 

“That doesn’t mean they are safe, though, does it?” Emela said, pulling at a loose strand of split blond hair. “But you’re right. There is no reason to believe anything has gone wrong with them. I think—”

“Oh, if it isn’t the family failure, Emela,” an annoying voice Emela could not mistake said. 

By the Great Lake. Why did you have to appear now? I’m already having a rough enough day as is. 

Noella strode down the hallway. Her blond hair, now in obnoxiously large curls, swayed as she walked. A cruel smile hung on her crooked, thin lips. She had something she wanted to show off. Her whole character said that much. Was it her hair? No, it looked tasteless at best, and that was Emela being generous. 

Behind her annoying little half sister walked the equally annoying maid, Matilda. The pair looked were like two fools marching to show off some of their hapless ideas. Emela came to a stop and crossed her arms. Nyx stopped at her side. 

“What do you want now, Noella? I don’t have time for this. I need to go see the instructor,” Emela said, running her eyes up and down Noella as she came to a stop before her. 

“Why would you do that? It would just be wasting the instructor’s time.” Noella chuckled, her hair bouncing at each shake of her body. “No. You should be off in the kitchen learning how to be a good wife for your.” She stifled back another laugh. “Your Muddust husband.” 

We aren’t married yet. You damn toad.

“What do you want, Mirae?” Emela asked. A group of lower-ranking house maids scuttled past, whispering between each other as they walked. A few lowered their eyes, faces reddening with unconcealed shame. Were they talking about her? “You’re causing a scene Noella, get to your point or leave me be.” 

“Now, now, dear sister. You should really pay more attention to your betters.” Noella shook her head in faux dismay and let out an exasperated sigh. “I didn’t intend to show you, but you were lucky enough to cross my path. So I might as well grace you with its sight.” 

“With what?” 

“This.” she said, beckoning Matilda forward. In the girl’s hands rested an exquisitely designed sword. Its beautiful gold hilt sparkled in the blue halfway light, encrusted with an assortment of jewels. It gave off a certain charm. The blade, its edges humming with a blue light, sat and dared you to look at it. Why did she have such a fine work of craftsmanship? 

Noella turned, plucking the beautiful sword from Matilda’s hand and raised her arm, pointing the sword to the sky. “Father gave me a Mana Armament.”

Chapter 42: The Talk

Oh crap.

Hector’s hand moved by itself, chucking the coin pouch over the workbench and thudding it into the back wall. There was a dull thump as Hector reached up and grabbed a hammer off the top shelf. The door creaked open further, as his dad stepped in and Hector brought the hammer down onto the wood. 

“Sorry to barge in on you. I felt we need to have a talk about what happened.” 

“What happened?” Hector asked, hammering the wood, and looking for a nail or the like. There was only so long he could pretend to be doing something before his dad stepped closer and realised he was just hammering at wood—he could be an idiot, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d know Hector was hiding something. 

“Hector, don’t be like that? Listen… How do I put this?” 

Hector glanced over his shoulder while his father took a tentative step forward. The man wrung his hands as he looked off to the side. He was distracted. That was good. Hector looked back at the shelf, his eyes scanning it with rapid movements. His heart lurched, relief washing over him as he spotted what he was looking for. 

A rusty nail sat on the corner edge of the shelf perfectly within reach. Its surface was more brown than the iron colour it had no doubt been before. But it would do. “Hector, could you please look at me? I feel like I’m talking to a wall here.” 

“Yeah, dad. Sorry,” Hector said, reaching for the nail. He turned his hand, regarding his father as the man tried to speak. “I don’t think we have anything to talk about, though. I’m fine, trust me.” His hand brushed across the nail. He clamped down on it and brought it down to the board as he continued to hold his father’s gaze.

“You worked the wood already?” His father asked, stepping forward. 

“Dad, it’s fine.” Hector shield the wood with his body. What questions would his father ask? He didn’t know. But it was better if he could stay on the other side of the shed. “I can do it by myself.” 

His father stopped, lowering a hesitant hand. A frown spread across his lips as he looked to the ground. “I know I messed up just now. I’ve been drinking a lot lately, haven’t I.” 

“Not to be rude, dad. But only you could answer that question,” Hector said, turning back to the piece of wood and hammering in the nail—it was going to be a pain to remove later at this rate. The dull thuds of the hammer echoed around the room as they stood in silence for a moment. 

Eventualy Hector sighed, resting the hammer on the workbench, just to the side of the wood. “What’s going on Dad? Seriously.” 

His father stepped over to the shed wall, leaning against it. The wood creaked against his weight as he let out a shaky breath. “Do you know I’ve been working at that damn refinery for ten years now? Ten painful years.” 

Hector turned and lent back against the workbench, crossing his arms. His gaze ran up and down his father; from his tattered brown boots to his torn brown trousers. Time aged and tore his black shirt, and his face—once youthful and happy—was withered. “I know, dad.” 

“But, I stay.” His father said. The man’s brown eyes shimmered with purpose. Hector's heart tightened as a wave of emotion coiled in his chest. “I stay, so you don’t have to worry. So that you can cultivate and get the life you are destined for. A life away from this slum, hell. Hopefully, a life away from this city.” 

Hector wrinkled his nose. His gaze moved to the hammer resting on the desk. Its handle was worn by time. Wasn’t this house his life? If his dad was working for something, was Hector really worth this kind of investment? His happiness was it worth Hector’s future? 

His dad sighed and looked off to the one window in the shed. His gaze lingered on it, perhaps taking in the sights of the garden beyond. “I won’t burden you with the things I have to carry. It’s my job, not yours.” 

“And who decide that?” Hector snapped, as a wave of annoyance flooded him.  

His gaze tuned to Hector, eyes steely and stern. “Hector. Carful.” 

Hector went to speak, but paused. He took a breath, letting the air fill his lungs. Holding it and releasing. The turbulence in his mind calmed, if just a little—the majority was still focused on how the man could be so selfish. “I don’t get it. Mum isn’t here. We should be pulling together, protecting each other. You can’t do this alone.” 

His father pushed off the wall and shook his head. “You don’t get it. I have to protect you, and today proves that even more.” 

“Today? How? I kept Mirae safe. I kept myself safe. You should be proud, Mum would be.” 

“You have no idea what your mother would think,” His father said, his voice dropping a few degrees. “You barely knew her. Hell, I barely…” The man paused, letting out a sigh. 

“What dad? What?”

“It’s nothing Hector. Forget I said anything.” 

Hector pushed off the workbench, his hands dropping to his side. His heart thundered in his chest. What did his dad mean? What was he going to say? “Dad, why don’t you talk about mum?” 

“Take care Hector,” His dad said, waving him off and waking over to the shed door. “Don’t forget to work the wood before you use it. I’m not sure what your plans were with that one nail. But the wood needs working.” 

“Dad,” Hector pleaded, as the man stepped out of the shed, closing the door behind him. Finishing the conversation. Hector's heart tightened as he turned and slammed a fist down onto the workbench. Why the hell did his dad have to keep so much from him? 

The nail stuck out of the wood—barely a few inches deep—and Hector placed a finger on it. This wasn’t going to achieve much. He was just procrastinating if he was going to waste time. It would be better to do it in the Talent Garden space. The house, even though it was pretty bad, could wait. 

He picked up the hammer, sliding the hook underneath the nail and wrenched it up with a pop. The wood creaked under the pressure but didn’t crack as tiny splinters jutted out of the freshly formed hole. His dad was right, he needed to work the wood. 

Shaking his head, he placed the hammer and the nail on the shelf and plucked up the wood. Moving back over to the stack of planks he’d got it from earlier, Hector lent to wood against them and made for the door. He would have to come back to this another time. Right now he had to keep growing Talents. 

Pushing open the shed door, Hector walked out into the back garden. He made his way around the scrap piles—something he’d need to come back to in the future—and made his way inside the house, heading to his room. 

Upon walking inside and sliding the door closed behind him, Hector paused. There, down the hall in front of his room door, was Mirea. She stood, twiddling her thumbs as she stared pensively at the ground. Hector could feel a mini lecture coming along—there were a lot of that going around today. 

“Mirae, is everything alright?” Hector said, strolling up to her. The old floorboards creaked as he moved, groaning under his weight. Was it really wise to put off the repairs? 

“Ah, there you are. Dad said you were in the shed, but I didn’t want to disturb you.” Mirea said, fidgeting with her fingers. “Is everything alright?”

Hector chuckled, rasing a hand and patting on her head. Her soft white hair ruffling under his touch. He laughed as Mire squirmed and slapped his hand away. “I just asked you that. Just say what’s on your mind. And before you ask, no, Dad has not told me about his debt.” 

Mirea sighed, slumping her shoulder and leaning against his door. “I didn’t think you would. He’s too stubborn sometimes. Even for me,” she let out a sad chuckle. “But I didn’t really have much hope of that. I’m actually here for what you said earlier. You know about that thing… I think you called it a Talent.” 

Hector let out a sigh, closing his eyes and dropping his hands to his side. “Yeah, nows probably as good a time as any. Let’s not talk out here,” Hector said, rasing a hand and gently nudging her out of the way. He opened the door and stepped inside his room, holding the door ajar for his sister. “Come on then, the little one. We have a lot to talk about.” 

As Mirea a stepped into the room, a nagging feeling that he’d forgotten something played in his mind. But whatever it was. It could wait.

Acalla rested her hands on her hip as her dark red robes fluttered in the wind. She admired the large void beast, its form crushing several of what used to be stalls—a few mortals had been caught under its weight. How had this happened? Something this large from the void should have been so rare that it was almost impossible. So how had the Night’s Raven done it? 

The smell of sulfur wafted through the air, as flames gently licked at the giant wound splitting its corpse—Simon was a pain to deal with, but he was not third company commander without reason. She shook her head. It had taken her, John, Anton, and Rozala far too long to take the beast down. But he came along and killed it in a single stroke. An overbearing, obnoxious, and flashy stroke. But a single stroke none the less. 

To the side of the freshly formed clearing in the festival, were a group of Middlec city guards talking to the lower rank members her company.. Many of the guards had died today, and the city council would no doubt raise a stink about it—the old fools hated when their cheap investments were ruined. They would demand to know who let this happen. 

She didn’t even fully know what happened. The Night’s Raven had lured the company here, but why? The sounds of footsteps approached from behind her, a good few feet away. She glanced behind her. There, entering the festival clearing, was Silkmon—a good girl, and a capable assistant. The girl’s robes fluttered as the wind ruffled them. Her eyes were dark as she approached. Was the report that bad? 

“Silkmon, did you find Damond?” She asked, turning to face the girl as she approached. Acalla combed a loose strand of green hair behind her ear—she’d need to get it cut soon. It was getting a tad bit long. 

“No, High Captin. I didn’t, but I did get the report field repot from the captain of the Claw group.” Silkmon said bowing. 

Acalla waved the girl to stand, creasing her brow. Claw group wasn’t that Kain’s group—one of her better students. A smile came to her face as she thought of the man. She’d have to catch up with him. She hadn’t had much time since returning to the city. 

Though perhaps their reunion wouldn’t be so happy. “Weren’t Draken and Asomond in charge of guarding the center today?” Acalla asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.” 

Silkmon’s brown hair fluttered in the wind as she nodded. “They were High captain.” 

“Bring them both to see me.” What a situation to be in, and on her first day back. One of them was going to have to take the brunt of the punishment—not that they deserved to. But you could hardly sufficiently punish a Core Formation realm Cultivator. The cost would not be worth it. 

Silkmon nodded, turning on her heels and walking over loose chunks of debris to go and find the two. Various guards and company members watched the girl leave. Acalla smiled. The girl paid them no mind, ever dutiful, ever focused. 

Acalla turned, taking in the sight of the void beast corpse once again. Lower-ranking members of the company poked at it, some commenting on its size. They joked and laughed—it was like it hadn’t almost killed most of them. 

The body of the beast took on a white sheen. Glowing whiter and whiter, before turning into a stream of light. The stream flew through the air, traveling down towards an outstretched hand, and the ring that decorated the hand—a storage ring. 

She glanced at the holder of the ring and frowned. Simon Flamelight—his annoying smile hung on his lips. Why did she have to come back today off all days? It was going to be a long day.

Chapter 41: Do we need to have a rest day?

Hector walked home in silence. Lincoln had followed him and Mirae for a while, but eventually he broke off, heading to his house, leaving Hector and Mirae to walk alone. Hector spoke very few words to Mirae as they trudged the familiar streets of the Sirius quarter home. A lot of people were out today—many probably came from the festival. 

He paid them no mind. His thoughts were a mess. The general chatter was but a distant din as he let his feet guide him home. He had a lot to consider. He and his friends needed to meet up to split the earnings and figure out if they had enough to help his dad. And Hector needed to have a talk with Mirae. The stuff she’d seen today was too much—he would probably be a wreck if it wasn’t for the system and the adrenalin. 

But that was another thing. The system. It apparently was regulating his emotions, somehow. Was that something to worry about? Was he in danger? It didn’t feel like it, but still. Was he even in control?

He looked down at Mirae, watching as her long white hair bounced and sway in the wind. It curled around her shoulder and washed over her face, hiding her features. Hector couldn’t see it, but he didn’t doubt that she was worried—today had to have been too much for her. But then again, she was a Mana Cultivator now. This could be only the beginning of the horrors she would see. 

Eventually, after a few silent moments, and greeting a few neighbours. Some of them were overly eager to ask them what had happened—not everyone had been lucky enough to go to the festival. After all, they were poor. In all rights, Hector should have been at the dump scavenging, trying to stave off said poverty. The two of them made it to the crumbling building they called home. Pushing past the rotting gate, and trudging up the dirt, dappled with stone, path. Hector sighed.

He slumped down onto a tree stump, resetting just to the side of their front door, which lead straight into their kitchen. Mirea shambled over and rested her head on his shoulder, sobbing as her body shook. “What just happened, Hector? What were those things?” 

Hector raised a hand and rested it on her head. The words he wanted to say juggled around his mind, jostling to come out. They wouldn’t be right, no matter the order they came out in. How could he even explain what had happened? He didn’t even fully understand himself. 

But in the end, he closed his eyes, feeling Mirae's presence on his shoulder, and sighed. “Don’t worry, they can’t hurt you. As long as I’m here, they never will.”   

“But you won’t always be there.” Mirea said. As he went to speak, Mirea cut him off. “I need to get stronger. I can’t be your weak little sister forever. What happens when something happens to you? Who is going to take care of you?” 

“I…” Hector brushed her forehead and let out a sigh as he watched a beetle crawl across the dirt, scavenging. It had such a simple life. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip and turned his gaze to the sky. His sister was right, he wouldn’t always be around. When that time came, what could she do? “Mirae, I have something to talk to you about. It’s about you getting stronger and it’s about your Talent.” 

“My what?” She said, taking her head off his shoulder and turning to face him. Her purple eyes, puffy from her sobbing, looked at him with confusion. “What is a Talent?” 

“Well—”

The front gate crashed open—not doing wonders for its already failing integrity. And there stood their father. Heaving as his chest rose and fell, staring at the two. The look in his eyes morphed from worry to what Hector could only assume was relief, and he rushed towards them. 

“By the Great Lake. Thank the heavens you're both alright.” He stopped short before them and bent down, scooping Mirae into a bear hug, delivering kiss after kiss to her face. “Thank the heavens, thank the heavens. I’d thought I’d lost you.” Tears streamed down his face as he turned to Hector. 

His father then dropped to one knee, wrapping one arm around Hector and holding Mirae in the other. Practically squeezing the life out of him. Mirae squirmed in their father’s grasp, and Hector forced back a chuckle as a sense of warmth washed through him—His father hadn’t acted like this in a while. But he wouldn’t complain. 

“Father, it’s alright.” Mirea said, tapping his back. “You don’t need to squeeze the life out of us.” 

At her words, their father loosened his grip and chuckled. “When I heard what happened, I almost died. You don’t know how worried I was.” 

“No, but I can certainly feel it,” Hector said, letting out a chuckle. The wind rustled through his father’s hair as Hector tracked the wrinkles on the man’s face. It seemed like he’d aged a few years. “Wait, shouldn’t you be at work?” 

“What would be the point of work if something happened to you?” He said, resting a hand on Mira’s head. “All I do. Everything is for the two of you. Nothing else matters.” 

Hector went to say something but found that the words wouldn’t come. His lips parted, and he scanned his father’s face, looking for something. In many ways, it was how Hector felt about both of them, but to have him say it so plainly. It caught Hector off guard—his father rarely did anything that caught him off guard.

“Alright then,” his father said, releasing the two of them. “Let’s get inside.” 

Hector ran his tongue across his bottom lip and sighed. He had to make sure they were all okay. His father pushed opened the door and waved him and Mirae inside. Hector got to his feet, sparing a glance at the garden gate before walking into the house, into the kitchen. He wasn’t strong enough to protect everyone yet, and the system was his only way forward. 

“You good, Hector?” His father asked as Hector trudged over to the kitchen table. 

Hector nodded and pulled a seat out from underneath the table. “Its been a long day, that’s all.” 

Mirae pulled out the chair next to him and slumped down. Fiddling with her fingers as her gaze flickered between the two. Hector smiled at her as she spoke. “You wouldn’t believe the things we’ve seen today, Father. It was unheard of.” 

“Oh really? Tell me about it.” Hector’s father said. Hector's lips twitched into a frown as the man walked over to the cupboard. Pulling it open, he gripped the bottle inside and grab the glass next to it. “Sorry guys, but I need to celebrate. You don’t mind, do you?” 

What the hell is wrong with you? We are finally having a good moment and you pull this crap.

Hector loved his father. Even the part of him that didn’t come from this world loved the man. But his behaviour. It was idiotic. Did he not know the damage he was doing to himself? Sure, he was a cultivator—whisky that wasn’t infused with mana wouldn’t do much—but that didn’t excuse the behaviour. 

Hector pushed himself from the table, his chair scraping against the aged wooden floor. As he stood, Mirae glance up at him and raised a brow. She didn’t deserve this, but he wouldn’t stay and watch. He wouldn’t watch his father poison this moment. He wouldn’t watch his father poison himself. 

“I just realised I have something to do,” Hector said, lifting his hand and resting it atop Mirae’s head. He brushed his thumb across her forehead, turning to his dad with a frown.

“No, stay. We were just about to—” 

“Sorry, Dad. Please, it’s important.” Hector said, stepping out of the way of his chair and sliding it underneath the table. 

The bottle of whisky thumped against the table’s wooden surface as Hector’s father placed it down. He paused and looked at Mirae before regarding Hector. “Alright, Mirae can fill me in. You go, do what you have to do. But—”

“Thanks, dad.” Hector swiveled on his heel and strode out of the room. Taking a deep breath with every step. He loved his dad. But this was becoming ridiculous. Besides, he didn’t have all day to sit and talk. Because of his father and his pride, Hector had to find some way to save this family. 

He marched through the hallway, frowning at chipped wooden planks and peeling paint that revealed a colonise of Medew behind it. The house was falling apart day by day and they couldn’t afford to fix it with money. 

His hands moved to his waist, to one of the coin pouches that hung there, hidden beneath his shirt. Would this be enough to pay the debt and fix up the house? 

Upon reaching the end of the hallway—walking straight past his room—Hector pushed the back door open and walked into the back garden. Large square plant boxes sat on either side of the garden—built by him and his father years ago. Growing in the boxes was Mirae’s pride and joy. Flowers. Tall, beautiful and well cared for. An assortment of vegetables also crowded around the side of the box, placed so they didn’t get in the way of the flowers’ growth—Mirae had her favorites.  

They were the most well kept part of the garden. The rest of the area was in a state of disarray. Piles of junk dotted the area. Scraps of various materials that Hector had collected over the years and forgotten to do something with. 

Hector walked forward, avoiding the scrap and making his way to the shed—a place he’d come to a lot less lately—his workshop. Pushing open the heavy wood door, something he’d felt was necessary at the time to keep in the noise, Hector walked inside and let out a sigh. He grabbed the edge of the door and closed it. Finally, some peace. 

He walked over to the workbench at the side of the room, placed his hands against it and let his weight rest against it. What had happed today? How had today even happened? It was meant to be a quick and simple job, but no. They had almost died. 

He brought one hand up, combing it through his white hair. Hector's gaze moved to the sheds ceiling—cobwebs and mildew mingled—as he thought back on today. There had been so many times that it could have all gone wrong. The Pheonix Company’s Mana Cultivator, the void beasts, the guards chasing Mirae. They had escaped too many close calls. 

“By the Great Lake. What did I get everyone caught up in?” His hand dropped to his side as his gaze wondered around the shed. To the back, several large planks of wood lent against the wall—the dump had been good to him the day he grabbed them. 

Hector absent mindedly walked over to the wood planks, picking one up. He need to process everything, but he also didn’t want to sit and stew. He looked back over to the workbench, to the shelf of equipment hanging just above it. Was everything there? He sure hope so, as he’d rather not leave this shed—he need this time alone. 

He tucked the plank under his arm and made his way back over to the bench. The plank was heavy in his arm and the weight was good. The physical exertion—though not as intense as it would be if he was a mortal—made it so he was at least doing something. 

He rested the wood on the workbench with a soft thump. Dust that had gathered over the last few days scatted in a cloud of smoke as he examined the wood. What could he do with this? He need to fix the gate that was falling apart, but that floor board in his room was also a problem. If he was honest, the list could go on and on. But he only had so much wood—until he went to the dump, anyway. 

The dump. The only legitimate way he had to make money, and something he hadn’t done today. Hector brought a hand to his waist, gripping a pouch and unclasping it. He raised the pouch to his eye as he weighed it in his hand. He’d ruined someone’s day to day—before the void beasts anyway—all for this small pouch of coin. 

Was this all really worth it? 

He shook his head and went to put it back when a knock came from the door. “Son, can we talk for a moment?” Hector’s heart lurched in his chest. 

Chapter 40: What are friends for, exactly?

“So Mr. Pennybrook is still there,” Jodie said, taking a bite out of the candy apple. Hector cringed as her teeth cracked into its surface—she’d found it on the floor and just started chewing. Not sanitary. “We have to go back and get him, then.” 

“Why?” Lincoln asked, looking off to the side. He shook his head and turned to her. “The old man gave us the talismans so we could escape. He was convinced he could save his stall.” 

Well, that was before these void creatures showed up. Before that, he believed that he just had to keep the stall safe from two high level Mana Cultivators. 

“That doesn’t mean we should leave him,” Jodie said, standing up sharply from the crate on which she sat. The apple clattered to her side, bouncing across the cobblestone. Hector stepped forward, and she glared at him. “Don’t tell me you agree with this selfish idiot.” 

“No.” Hector said, glancing behind him at Mirae. She stood off to the side with Marcus—he hadn’t taken the news of his father staying behind too well. “It could be too dangerous to go back there and we would be going against his wishes.” 

“So what?” 

“So we should leave.” Lincoln said, kicking a loose piece of wood. “Have you forgotten that we’re walking around with other people’s money?” 

“I swear by the great lake Lincoln. If you don’t shut up, I’m going to come over there and make you shut up.” Jodie snapped, Hector struggled to hold her back as she pushed towards Lincoln—if she really wanted to hurt him, Hector had no doubt he’d be unable to stop her.

“Guys, Guys.” Hector said, resetting his hands on Jodies shoulders and pushing. She stepped back and looked off to the side with a scowl on her face. “Lincoln is right,” Her eyes snapped to him and Hector hurried out his next words. “But we can’t leave him either. My plan was—and still is to escort those of us who can’t fight out, then come back. We can get Mr. Pennybrook out of here, then.” 

“Hector,” Lincoln said, his face morphing into one of shock. “Have you seen what’s going on? I mean, look at that thing.” Lincoln pointed towards the center of the festival, to the Void Ravager. 

“And,” Jodie said with a look of disgust. People looked over, many seeming curious as to why they were arguing. “The Core Formation mana cultivators have it locked down. I can tell that much from here,” she said, her blue eyes wide as she shook her head.   

Are you guys kidding me? This is not the time to be arguing. 

“Listen to me!” Hector yelled, channeling the little mana he had into his shout. The two of them paused and focusing on him. “I get what you are both saying. But all I want right now is to get Mirae out of here safely. I don’t care about anything else right now. If we lose the money, that’s fine. I don’t care. I just need her safe.” 

Some people looked over, pointing. Other, moved further away, not wanting to get involved in whatever was going on with them—he couldn’t blame them. Jodie sighed, bending down and picking up her apple. She dusted it off, scowling at Lincoln, and taking an aggressive bite out of its flesh. Lincoln shook his head and walked off to the side, kicking at random rubble. 

I wish Emela was here. She would know what to do with you two numbskulls. 

Hector sighed and shook his head, making his way over to Marcus, Mirae, and Delworth. “I’m sorry Marcus. I—”

“It’s alright, it’s not your fault. This is something my dad wanted to do. I can’t blame you for that.” Marcus turned to Delworth. “We can’t do much for him as we are. We should head back to the shop?” 

Delworth nodded. 

“I don’t get it. What’s at the shop?” Hector asked, grabbing Mirae’s hand. The roars of the distant Void Ravager sent a tingle down his back. The thing was taking its sweet time to die. 

“Noting, but uncle Samule is there. He, especially with some talismans, should be able to get dad out of there.” 

“What, how?” Hector asked as something caught his eye. A few feet away, and with a child in her arms, a woman walked down the path. Her dress, no doubt once a sight to behold, was in tatters. Ruined with long cuts and dirt splotches. “Poor sod.” 

“Huh?” Marcus looked towards the woman and frowned, before turning back to Hector. “My uncle is, or should be, Gravity Forging three. With some talismans, he should be fine… I think.” 

“Wait, your uncle is a Cultivator. Why have you never brought him up?” Hector said, looking between Delworth and Marcus.

“He’s not really important. He dosen’t involve himself in the family business.” 

“But he’s a Mana Cultivator. Surely that means something to your dad. Why was he not here?” 

“Why? How would that help sell talismans?” Delworth asked, tilting his head to one side.

“Well, it wouldn’t, but it could have helped to keep them safe.” Hector replied. But from the confused look on Delworth’s face, it was clear that his line of thinking didn’t make much sense to the boy.

“My Uncle chose to stay behind and manage the shop,” Marcus said. Picking at a loose thread at the end of his blazzer sleeve. “He’s not very good at selling thing. But talismans can mostly sell themselves if people know what they do. So it made sense at the time.” 

“But… Nevermind.” Hector let out a breath and turned. Jodie had returned to sitting on her crate, eyeing Lincoln as she bit into her apple. Lincoln, for his part, stared off to the side, watching a family of four slowly make their way towards a growing crowd—some Pheonix Company members had apparently started gathering everyone in a group to make their way out. 

Hector thought it was risky, but then again, he wouldn’t be joining them. “What did Jodie do?” Hector asked, running his eye over her—she had good battle insight but that was it. Right?

“It was amazing. She is strong.” Delworth said, his face lighting up. “She fought the tentacle monster alone.” 

“She what?” Hector’s head snapped to Delworth—sure he’d done the same, but he’d had Talents. She didn’t. 

“Yeah,” Marcus said, nodding. His eyes went distant, as if he were reliving the moment. “She was awesome. It couldn’t lay a finger on her. I didn’t even know she could move like that. Is that what she’s like during training?” 

Not with me 

“Sister Jodie did that,” Mirae said, joining Hector in staring wide eyed at the ginger haired girl. “I didn’t realise she was that strong.” 

Has she been holding back on me? No, she’s not like that. She hates losing. Then what gives? System, scan her. 

————————————————

/// 

Cultivation level: [Gravity Forging - 2]

Talent: [None]

Talent Fragment: [None]
/// 

————————————————

Then what the hell gives? If what these guys are saying is true, she was fighting on a higher level than she should be able to. 

“I guess I’ll have to ask her about it?” Hector said, reaching for Mirea hand. His sister didn’t take it. Instead, she looked off down the stone path, watching as two figures strolled down the cobblestone. One in a black mask and one in a blue and white one. The pair stood out like sour thumbs when compared to the panicked and shambling people near them—though it made sense. 

I knew they would be alright. A Gravity Forging five and four should have no problem dealing with a Void Hunger, especially with Emela having a Talent. 

“Look, it’s Emela,” Mirae said, letting out a small cheer. She turned, running back over to Jodie and dragging the girl to her feet. Mirae then pulled her over, while Hector shook his head in dismay. She must have been worried—after all, he was the only one that knew their actual strength. 

The two girls walked down the path, eventually coming to a stop in front of the group, as Mirae and Jodie approached. “You two still have your masks on?” Jodie asked, stopping just short of the girls.

“Were we not supposed to?” Emela asked, turning her head towards Hector. She waved at him and he waved back, walking over with a smile. Emela turned back to Jodie. “What happened to your mask?” 

“Oh, I lost that in a fight with that thing,” Jodie pointed to the corpse of the Void hunger. Its obsidian black skin sparkled in the sunlight. It would be almost beautiful if Hector didn’t know how it smelt and how it felt. 

“You fought that thing? Alone?” Emela turned to Nyx, then back to Jodie. “How is that even possible?” 

“That’s what I wanted to know,” Hector said, walking over, giving Emela a smile and nodding at Nyx. The distant roars from the Void Ravager rung in the background—it was crazy that the fight was still going. “Have you been holding back on me in training?” Hector lightly punched Jodie in the arm, letting out a chuckle. 

Jodie shrugged, getting on her tiptoes and looking around. “I can’t see him now. But, no I havn’t been holding back on you. The guy I’m looking for seemed to know what was going on.” 

“With you?” Hector said, crossing his arms. “What did he say?” 

“I can’t remember exactly. But he said I had something called battle intent.” Jodie stopped looking around and brought the candy apple to her mouth and took a bite out of it. “He said that If I wanted to, I could join the Pheonix Company.” 

“What, that’s crazy,” Hector said, feeling his heart lurch—it would suck if she left, but he couldn’t blame her. It would be a good way to escape the slums. “So, are you going to go?” He asked, his voice cracking a little. 

“Heavens no,” Jodie said, scrunching her brow. “Why would I go and do that? I already have the dojo to think of. Plus, I wouldn’t know anyone, and I’d have to leave you guys and my family behind. I’m not doing that.” 

“That’s great to hear,” Mirae said, wrapping her little arms around Jodies waist. “I would hate to lose you. Though I know it would be a big opportunity.” 

“A big one,” Hector said, feeling his shoulders relax a little. He glanced at Emela, meeting her eye. What did she think about the offer? She was strong enough, she could probably join herself. 

If she thought something of it, she wasn’t telling him. She simply regarded Jodie for a second before turning to him. “And what about you two?” She gestured to Mirae. “Did you run into any of these beasts along the way?” 

“Yeah, a few,” Lincoln said, walking over. He made sure to step away from Jodie as he stepped into position next to Hector. “We didn’t manage to kill any, though. These guys are tough as hell. Though we got close.” 

“Oh, really?” she said, looking from Lincoln to Hector. “If you didn’t kill it, what happened to it?” 

Hector shrugged, glancing to the side, and looking off to the Void Ravager at the center of the festival. His gaze lingered on the creature, trying to make out the figures that were fighting it. But they were too far away. “A Core Formation Mana-Cultivator killed it before we could finish it off.” 

“Same thing happed to me,” Jodie said, chewing on the last bits of her apple. 

“It seems all our fights were interrupted, thankfully.” Emela said, resting a hand on her chest. Hector held back a smirk—he had no doubt she had killed a creature given her level of strength. Though he didn’t understand why she was keeping it hidden.

Perhaps she found a pill in the dump like me. Though, it would have to have been a lot of them to get her so high. Plus Nyx as well. Maybe they have a connection or something. 

“Well, now that everyone is here, we should probably get going,” Hector said. His gaze drifted to the growing crowd of survivors of the festival. This would be one to remember in the coming years. 

A large roar pierced through the festival, and Hector’s attention snapped to the off the festival’s center. There, the Void Ravager road, as a large arc of flame, dwarfing the beast, slashed towards it. The arc sliced clean through its body, separating all that it was. The display of power was awesome. Whoever that was, was certainly a high level Mana-Cultivatior. 

Hector let out a sigh. He hadn’t realised he was holding as the knot in his stomach loosened. He turned to his friend and nodded. They were safe, and it was time to go home. “We should meet up tomorrow to go over what we’ve all collected.”

Chapter 39: Don't you love a good reunion?

“What’s your name, girl?” Wymon asked. The young woman, with her back facing him, rested one hand on her hip as she stared at the beast. It lay slumped on the cobblestone with various knife wounds, dry and cracked, running along its body. It wasn’t the cleanest job. But Wymon had done his best. “So,” he asked, sheathing the knifes into their scabbards on either side of his waist. 

The girl glanced back at him, white flecks of light drifting from her eyes. Her irises began to go back to a natural blue colour. Wymon had heard stories, even caught a glimpse once, but to see another with battle intent, right before him, that was insane—he would have to report it as soon as he got back to base. 

“Jodie. Why do you ask?” the girl—Jodie—said, looking Wymon up and down. He got the feeling she was trying to work out whether he was a threat or not. Not surprising. Slum rats didn’t have the best relationship with those in authority. 

“Do you have a last name?”

“Meldish,” she said, turning to him with the sound of debris scrapping against her feet. “I haven’t done anything wrong. The beast attacked me first.”

Wymon let out a dry chuckle and held back a yawn. His hand twitched as he resisted the urge to grab the water skin in his inside robe pocket. The sound of Ana’s foot steps were faint but she would be here soon. “I just wanted to know. You are quite special, you know.” 

“Not really. I’m just an average slum rat, nothing special here.” She didn’t take her eye off him for a moment. Wymon could understand her suspicion, but it hurt his pride a little. Normally, he was the one judging people. 

“Do you know what you just did, little one?” He said, taking a step forward. She took one back. “Ah,” Wymon rung his hands, rasing one to his mouth as he stifled another yawn. “I’m sorry, but you really are special. Have you heard of battle intent?” 

The hair on Wymon’s neck pricked as Jodie ran her eyes up and down him before she replied. “No. I’ve never heard of it. Why is it important?” 

Yes, you are a one in a million find, with the potential to fight those high above your realm. It’s more than a little important.

“You could say that,” Wymon said, looking off to the side. A piece of white fabric rolled past, carried by the wind. He frowned. It looked to be the sleeve of a guard. He could only hope the poor soul it used to be attached to was still alive. “Have you ever consider joining a mercenary group? If they found out what you posses, you could—” 

“I’m fine. I have my dojo already.” 

“Umm,” Wymon wet his lips, thinking about a different angle of attack when footsteps approached from behind. He glanced over and spotted Ana. Her bob bounced, throwing loose strands of blond hair all over the place as she ran down the cobblestone path. He turned back to Jodie. “Give it some thought, young one. The Phoenix company would love to have someone as capable as yourself.” 

“I’m fine where I am. Thank you for the offer though…” 

“Wymon. The name is Wymon,” He said, stepping to the side as Ana came to a stop, whip hanging loosely in her hands. Glancing up at him, her brown eyes analysing him the way they always did, she frowned. Wymon let out a sigh. “What’s the matter?” 

“Nothing, sir.” She jerked her chin towards the dead void creature, “is it dead?” 

“What does it look like to you?” 

Ana turned to Jodie, and Wymon felt a headache building as the woman studied the girl with her eyes. “I don’t recognise you? Why are you, as a noble, dressed like that?”

“Ana…”

“I’m not a noble,” Jodie said, crossing her arms. “I’m just a standard Mana Cultivator.” 

Ana’s mouth fell open as she looked from Jodie to Wymon, giving him a questioning gaze. He simply shrugged. The girl had battle intent, but there was no reason to talk about that now. After all, they still had a job to do—which was getting harder the longer they stayed her doing nothing. 

“Alright, Ana. How is the man I asked you to take care of earlier?” He moved his attention down the path. Blood ran down the man’s face as he lay propped up against a broken wooden crate. He didn’t look too much better, as he held a hand over his chest. 

“He should be fine for the most part. His wounds look a lot worse than they are,” she said, grabbing the other end of her whip. She began rolling it together and shook her head. “I don’t know how we are going to help most of these people. We need a healer. If only mortals could use recovery pills.” 

“You should get to the others,” Wymon said. He took a last glance at the Void beast before turning away. “And Jodie please—” 

“Jodie! There you are.”

Wymon turned in the direction of the voice and watched as a boy with long brown hair tied up and decorated with splinters of wood clambered over the broken stall. Dressed in a suit—strange for a slum rat—and smart shoes, the boy looked frazzled. Were the two of them friends? Another boy, dressed in the same manner as the first, struggled behind. 

Who are these children? 

The girl still focused on him, even as her friends drew close. Forcing a smile, he turned away and signaling for Ana to follow. She was guarded against them. It made sense. So it was probably best to leave them to catch up, but he would have to come collect them when he’d rescued the others. He had no plans of leaving children to fight for themselves, even if one of them had battle intent.

Hector, holding Mirae’s warm hand, glanced back at the large Void Ravager. The creature was still in the center of the festival and hadn’t moved—the Core Formation cultivators were doing their jobs. 

He hurried Mirae along, throwing a glance to Lincoln—the boy’s head was still on a swivel, looking for any threat that might approach. But the Phoenix Comapnay and, in some respect, the guards had done well. They hadn’t run into any Void creatures as they moved away from the center. 

But it couldn’t hurt to keep an eye out. A man poked his head out from one of the few stalls left standing in the festival. He glanced at Hector, and Hector waved. But the man, eyes thick with fear, jerked back inside as another roar from the Void Ravager—distant as it was—tore through the street. 

Pulling Mirae along, Hector hurried his feet along. But paused as he spotted something. A short distance away, in between the wreckage of what seemed to be an incense stall, was the body of a creature. It wasn’t moving—something these creatures refused to do on their own. It was most likely dead. 

“Do you want to go and take a look at that one as well?” Lincoln asked as he came to a stop next to Hector. His hand was still in his pocket. No doubt clutching the Stone Skin talisman. The one they’d activated earlier was still shielding them, but it had faded considerably—it was unclear how much more damage it could take. 

“I just want a quick look, and besides.” Hector said, making his way towards it. “We haven’t seen any others in a while. So I think things are starting to calm down.” A faint roar from the center of the festival punctuated his sentence. Hector chuckled and continued onto the beast’s corpse—he’d said enough. 

This should be my 8th uncommon fragment, just two more, and I should be able to make two seeds.  

Hector let go of Mirae’s hand, crunching over wood and stone as he closed in on the body. “Be careful, Hector,” Mirae said, balling up her fists. He gave her a firm nodded, before picking his way closer. The creature’s wounds weren’t bad, at least as far as he could tell. A Core Formation cultivator had probably killed it in one hit as they made their way to the center. 

System, extract the fragment. 

Hector knelt down, placing a hand on the icy obsidian skin of the beast. An icy feeling of wrongness washed over his hand like he’d put it into some running water made mostly of slime. He’d gotten used to this, and knew the system’s reply before it even spoke. 

————————————————

///: “Error. Fragments have decayed beyond the claimable state. Please find a more suitable target.” 

————————————————

Thought so. I was too late unfortunately. Damn. I guess eight will have to do for now. 

“Is everything alright Hector?” Mirae asked, stepping closer, splintering wood against her sandaled feet. “Is it alright if we go now?”

“Yeah, we can,” he said, placing a hand on his knee and pushing himself to his feet. “Everything alright, Lincoln?” The boy was looking off into the distance, seemingly focused on something.

“I think that’s Jodie. I might be mistaken. But… well. How many gingers do we know?” Lincoln said, rasing a hand and pointing. 

Following his finger, Hector’s eyes widened, and he subconsciously took a step forward. He’d been hoping, praying even—not that the old religions existed in this world—that his friend were okay. He grabbed Mirae’s hand and signalled Lincoln to follow as they picked through the stall wreckage and around the beast, making their way towards her. 

Two young boys in suits stood next to her. Delworth and Marcus were fine, too. He let out another sigh. That only ones left Emela and Nyx. Those two were in a higher realm than everyone in the group, so he had no doubt that they would be okay. 

“Jodie!” Hector yelled, waving his arms. Mirae joined him, raising her little arms and hollering to them. Lincoln let out a chuckle as he trailed behind. “What, what’s up?” Hector asked, turning to him. 

“Oh nothing, you two are just acting as if we hadn’t seen them in years. It’s been a few hours at most.” 

“Well, I’ll try not to look so happy that my friends are still alive next time.” Hector said, shaking his head and turning away from him. He really did know how to say the stupidest things sometimes. Was he not happy to see they had all made it out alright?” 

“That’s not… You know what, never mind. I just hope that we didn’t all just risk our lives for nothing. The farm would have been a lot safer option.” 

What is your damn obsession with that farm? 

Hector continued walking, not responding to Lincoln’s remarks. It wouldn’t help if he did—now was not the time to be having more arguments. People, some injured some not, milled about picking up rubble as they tried to help other. Some walked around lost, clearly in a state of shock. 

“Do you think the entire festival was hit this badly?” Lincoln asked, turning his ear to a few conversations. 

Hector rubbed a thumb over the back of Mirea’s hand. More to soothe himself than her. She gave him a reassuring smile. His heart warming as he let out a sigh. “I don’t know. But that thing is only in the center of the festival. So I would assume not.” Hector had considered using its name, but he didn’t exactly have a good reason for knowing what it was called. He could barely explain why he had to look at the Void hungers. 

A few moments they came to a stop halt as Jodie, Marcus and Delworth walked over. “By the great lake I’m glad you guys are alright. Even you Lincoln.” Jodie said, waking forward and embracing Hector. The hug was tight, perhaps a little too much—how worried had she been? 

“Thanks,” Lincoln said, with a scoff moving past them and walking over to Marcus. Giving the boy a light jab on the shoulder, Lincoln smiled. “Not gonna lie. I thought you would have wet yourself when the black beasts arrived. I’m glad to see I was wrong.” Lincoln let out a laugh, and Marcus chuckled. It was strained and forced—Lincolns jokes often landed like that. 

“It’s good to see you,” Hector said, patting Jodie on the back. Her hug loosened, and she bent down to embrace Mirae. Hector turned to Marcus, bitting his lip as he considered what he was about to say. “You guys alright?”

“I’m fine. Not much happened,” Delworth said. “Jodie is strong.” 

“Yeah, she really saved our butts earlier,” Marcus said, stepping over to Hector, rasing a hand and going for a handshake. “You should have seen her.” 

Ever the businessman, Marcus. Ever the businessman. But wait. What did she do?

As Hector shook Marcus’ hand, he glanced down at Jodie before turning his attention back to Marcus. That could wait. One thing at a time—and this was more important. “Marcus, I have something to tell you.”  

Chapter 38: Do you think you've seen it all?

The woman chuckled, seemingly finding her reaction funny, as she pulled a scroll from her robe. “Relax little one, you may think me a Glademoore, but I left my family long ago. So, in a way, I can understand your situation.” 

Sure you do. 

Emela shuffled further away from Nyx, making sure there was a good distance between them. If this woman attacked—and there was no guarantee she wouldn’t—it would be best to avoid both of them getting taken out at the same time. 

The woman sighed, tapping the scroll on her palm as she appeared to be contemplating something. The sobs from the surrounding people continued, and Emela resisted the urge to look. This woman was in the Core Formation realm. And If things went south, the cries of a few mortals would be the least of her worries. 

“Take this,” the woman said, throwing the scroll to Emela. It whipped through the air, clattering to the ground at her feet. Emela didn’t look at it. The woman shrugged. “If you decide to accept, ask for Acalla. I know what you are going through, young one, trust me.” 

With that, the woman launched into the air, cracking the cobblestone. She leapt from shattered stall to shattered stall, making her way to the center of the festival. 

“Wasn’t she part of the Phoenix company?” Nyx said, reaching down to pick up the scroll.

“She had the robes of a member. She must be someone with some rank if she’s in the Core Formation realm.” Emela said, directing her attention into the distance, to the center of the festival.

There, a larger version of the creatures she and Nyx had been fighting, stood, tentacles whipping around as it fought back the encroaching groups of Mana Cultivators. The air shook with violent roars as the feeling of wrongness it gave off spread all the way over here. It was truly something that didn’t belong, but she couldn’t figure out why. 

Maybe there will be something in the family library about what these things are. 

“Do you think the others are alright?” Nyx asked, sliding the scroll into her pocket and turning to Emela. She bunched her black brows as her blue eyes squinted towards the beast. “You don’t think they were anywhere near that creature, do you?” 

Emela shook her head—she didn’t know and wouldn’t unless she went over there herself. The groans from a nearby stall carried on the wind. Her heart grew heavier with every pained cry, but she set her jaw and focused on the beast. She needed to get stronger, or she would end up like these people one day. Alone and weak, dying in a way that was out of her control—that was not what she wanted, that was not freedom. 

“Come on, Nyx?” Emela said, walking down the path. Her footsteps echoed off the cobblestone as she moved gracefully towards the center. Another reason she couldn’t waste time on these people. First, she had to make sure her friends were alright. 

Nyx nodded, trailing behind silently. 

——

Wymon frowned as he knelt on the cobblestone. One hand at his hip whilst the other hung at his side, twitching—he really wanted to take a swig. Just one small sip from his waterskin and everything would be alright. 

“He got away again, sir,” Ana said weakly from his side. The woman lay on the ground, her back propped up against a shattered box that was now a mostly pile of broken wood. Blood trickled from the side of her mouth as she looked off to the beast that dominated the horizon.  

“Yeah, he did, lucky fool. I almost had him, too.” Wymon said, looking back at her, and resting a hand on her shoulder, “Are you going to be alright?” 

“Sorry, sir, it’s my fault. If I had been a bit more capable, we would have caught him,” she said, letting out a cough, splattering blood onto her dark red robes. Her gaze moved from the horizon and focused on him. “I’m sorry.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” Wymon shook his head and put his hand into his robes, feeling for a pill—why were these children always so difficult and headstrong? His fingers brushed across a smooth, round surface. The texture sent a wave of relief through him. He had one. Pulling his hand back, a red pill clutched between his fingers, he frowned at Ana. “Open your mouth.” 

The girl groaned, weakly opening her mouth, barely enough to fit the pill. Wymon popped it in and watched as she swallowed with a gulp. A few seconds later, her skin took on a red hue. Sweat droplets pooled on her forehead before tracing a long line down her face and dripping off her chin. It had worked—he’d need to make sure he got a few more pills when they returned to base. 

“How are you feeling now?” He asked, shuffling forward and rummaging around some rubble. He’d seen something just now that looked like a talisman, but he couldn’t be sure. There were a lot of talisman stalls around the festival. 

“Much better, thank you, sir,” she said, letting out a breath. Wood cracked and shifted beneath her as she adjusted herself. He threw a glance over his shoulder and raised a hand to stop her. “What’s wrong, sir?” 

“One, I’m looking for something, and two. You just ate a recovery pill. You know what happens when you push yourself too hard.” He turned back to the debris in front of him and continued rooting around. Wood chunks and cloth soaked in liquid, with chunks of food sticking to them, shuffled around as he spent a few more seconds searching. Eventually, he sighed. Accepting the fact that it must have just been a trick of the eye—he really needed to get some proper sleep. 

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Ana said, grunting as she got to her feet. Splinters of wood clattered to the ground as she stepped over, crunching debris beneath her boots.

“No, annoyingly not.” Wymon dusted his hands off, pushing off the ground, and clambering to his feet with a grunt. “But it doesn’t matter much. We have more important things to worry about.” 

Ana looked away from him, her brown eyes moving to the enormous creature in the distance as she let out a shaky breath. “How did they even manage to summon a void beast? Especially a rank 4 at that?” 

“I don’t know, but I guess that’s why Draken was so intent on stopping us from catching his little friend.” 

“Do you think Peter is alright?” 

Wymon sighed, his gaze drifting to some shifting rubble. A piece fell off the moving pile. One, then another, then another. Till, eventually, a man clawed out of the small hill of debris, letting out a triumphant shout—Wymon could only imagine what that must’ve felt like, to finally be free. Ana looked at Wymon, raising a brow as her brown eyes scanned him. He sighed. “Yeah, he can be a bit dense at times. But the boy is alert and has a good head on his shoulders. If things got crazy, I have no doubt he would have gotten out of there.”

Ana sighed, lowering her head, and bringing a finger to her lip. Wymon shrugged. She was thinking about the wrong thing. As a member of the Claw group, they had a job to do, and the first thing was to get these citizens out of the area—the Phoenix Company had just been dealt a blow. Now was the time for damage control. 

“Ana, go help that man over there,” Wymon said, pointing at the man who had just freed himself from the rubble. “I’ll sweep the streets, getting others out. We need to move these people away from the center festival.” 

“Yes sir,” the girl said nodding, shaking loose a strand of blond hair, which she quickly placed behind her ear. She then strode away, crunching wood under her feet, as she moved towards the man. 

Okay, first, I should probably look for those lightly wounded— 

A loud crash stalled his thoughts as a small void creature smashed through the wreckage of a stall a few feet down the path. It lashed about, jerking, tentacles flailing, as it tried to get something—no, someone off its back. Wymon’s eyes went wide at the sight as he tried to process what he was seeing. For a moment he’d thought it was a Core Formation mana cultivator, but no—they wouldn’t have even taken a moment to defeat a creature like that. 

He continued to watch as the girl, ginger hair whipping around, kept delivering blow after blow to the creature’s back, dodging from side to side every time a tentacle got close to taking her out. Wymon’s mouth hung agape. His tongue almost fell out of his mouth. That shouldn’t be possible. The speed at which those tentacles moved even gave him some trouble. 

He reached for the mana armaments—twin fire blades forged by the company’s Curlian smiths—that hung at his side. This person was definitely proving to be a challenge for the creature, but she was hardly doing enough damage to it. He’d have to get involved now or risk others getting hurt. 

It’s just not my day today. All I wanted to do was have a drink and go to sleep. Yet here I am.

Wymon held back a yawn, kicking off from the ground, the cobblestone blurring beneath him as he closed the gap between him and the creature. The girl, a high-level Mana-Cultivator most likely, continued to pummel the beast. But a jerk from the creature slamming its hind legs onto the cobblestone sent her falling off of it. 

The fall was unnatural. It was like watching a cat drop off a table, but it knew how to organise its body mid-fall. The girl dodged another tentacle, aiming for her chest, and whipped out with a kick as the beast paw barreled towards her, knocking it back. 

Who is this child? Is she a noble perhaps, but no Flamelight heirs were said to be in the area today? 

Wymon skidded to a stop, boots scraping against the ground, before he used the momentum to launch into the air, slicing at tentacles that came his way. The blades sliced through the thick meat. Cooking the flesh, causing the stink of sulfur to explode through the air. The beast roared, rasing back on its hind legs as he land with a soft thud onto the cobblestone. 

“Get back!” He yelled, sparing a glance at the girl. But paused as he noticed her eyes—they flickered with an iridescent white light, not natural in the slightest. His body moved on his own, raising his twin blades and a force exploded into them, knocking him back. 

He flipped through the air, sliding to a stop on the stone. The girl weaved through the beast’s tentacles, delivering ineffective blow after ineffective blow. The beast continued to lash out, screeching as its attacks failed to find its mark. Its attacks would never land. Those eyes—he’d seen them only once before. 

But if she has what I think, she most likely isn’t a high level Mana Cultvator, she is probably not even a noble. 

No noble wore rags like that. Those were the clothes of someone who lived in the slum. And if she was a slum dweller, this could be a huge opportunity. He shot forward as the beast raised its paw to slam down on the girl. 

She wouldn’t need the help, but it was time to end this fight. The beast’s paw fell. He swivelled to the right, boots scraping along the cobblestone before he launched off the ground, delivering two quick strikes. The first sunk into the side of the creature’s paw, sizzling flesh. The second slammed near the top of its leg, causing the creature to let out a roar. 

A tentacle whipped out, slamming towards him. He dug the dagger in deeper, gripping its handle and pulling himself forward as the beast reeled back. Wrenching the dagger free, he swivelled into the air, launching back down and puncturing the beast’s head with the blades. 

He pulled on the mana inside him, willing it into his weapons. Fire erupted from the puncture wounds, as flames poured from the Wymon’s blades into the creature’s skull, searing whatever was in there and releasing the stink of sulfur. The beast’s body shook, and he kicked off its head, flipping through the air and landing on the cobblestone as the creature collapsed to the ground. Dead. 

His chest heaved, rising and falling, as he held his swords out in front of him. The girl, ginger hair fluttering in the gentle breeze, glanced at him. The chaotic call of the true horror at the center of the festival was but a distant din. Wymon paid it no mind as he lowered his daggers and approached the girl. 

I can only hope she is receptive. 

Sorry for the delay

Hey guys. I'm sorry for the chapter delay. I've just moved and it's kinda hectic. It shall be up shortly.

Chapter 37: Are aftermaths always painful?

Hector’s gaze drifted to where the blur had come from, and he paused as the man hopped from one broken stall to the next, each leap carrying him a great distance. He was dressed in dark red robes that fluttered as he moved. In his hand was a javelin with flames licking across its surface, and on his back were several more. The most eye-catching thing about him was his red hair—not like Jodie’s, but an actual red like fire.

“Core Formation,” Hector muttered, glancing at Lincoln, who looked just as confused as he did. The robes identified the man as part of the Phoenix Company, but the hair—which would take on the colour of one’s affinity upon reaching that stage—placed him in the Core Formation.

System, scan him.

————————————————

///: Acquiring target stats…

————————————————

///
Cultivation level: [Core Formation-1]
Talent: [None]
Talent Fragment: [None]
///

————————————————

I was right; he is a Core Formation. He must be here to deal with that thing.

The man raised his arm, flames raging across it as he launched another javelin. It shot through the air, whistling with speed, and slammed into one of the Void Hungers fighting the two guards, pinning it to the stone. A second javelin followed a moment later, crunching into the obsidian flesh of the other beast and pinning its head to the ground.

Both creatures continued to writhe for a moment until the javelins exploded in flame, immolating their flesh. Hector cringed as they let out their final pained cries—a feeling of wrongness washing over him, though much weaker than the one pervading the area.

“Lincoln, he’s in the Core Formation realm,” Hector said, grabbing Mirae’s shaky hand as she came to stand next to him. Her presence was a comfort.

“Yeah, I think so,” Lincoln replied. The man cracked onto the cobblestone a few feet in front of them and reached out. The stall rubble where he had slammed the Void Hunger that Hector had been fighting shook; flames licked at a smouldering corpse, and then he pulled back. Out from the wreckage, the javelin snapped and smacked into his waiting palms—he was definitely in the Core Formation realm.

The man looked at them, gave a curt nod, and spared a glance at the creature looming in the center of the festival. His face tightened, and he launched off the ground, soaring over to the two guards, where he collected his other two javelins.

“I think we might actually be alright,” Lincoln said, grabbing Hector’s arm—his finger pinching into his skin as he shook him. “With a Core Formation here, they should be more than able to deal with that big one.”

“Yeah.” Although impressive, the Core Formation cultivator was the least of his concerns. Those corpses had fragments on them—at least he hoped they did. If he could extract even a few, that would be one seed, at the very least.

Hector scanned the area. The Core Formation man said something to one guard before leaping away toward the Void Ravager in the center of the festival. Hector’s eyebrows bunched as he watched the guards hobble further down the stone path—weren’t they supposed to help someone?

Although the guards weren’t healers, they could surely provide some first aid. He sighed, his eyes moving to the smouldering stall wreckage as he shook his head. It didn’t matter; he needed those fragments, and if they weren’t around, extraction would be even easier.

“Lincoln, stay here. I’m going to check it out.” Warmth left his hand as he let go of Mirae’s and gestured toward the stall. “I want to get a closer look.”

“Didn’t you already get a look when it was trying to kill you all those times?” Lincoln said, crossing his arms and letting his gaze flicker between Hector and the surroundings. Quiet sobs still littered the area as a few people moved around, helping others. “Maybe we should get out of here. Just because there’s a Core Formation doesn’t guarantee how this fight will go.”

He was right, but still—when am I going to get another chance like this? And what about Mirae…

He looked back at his sister, who trembled slightly as the wind buffeted her white hair. She reached out to clamp it down, stopping the loose strands from getting into her face. It was dangerous, but no more so than walking blindly in any direction, hoping not to run into another one.

“Do you guys trust me?” Hector asked, looking between the two of them.

Mirae nodded.

“I do, but I have my concerns—especially after what happened earlier,” Lincoln said, kicking a loose piece of wood aside. He looked up to meet Hector’s eyes. “But I know why you did it. So…”

It wasn’t a full yes, which Hector would have preferred, but it was enough for now. “Good, so just follow me.” Hector took Mirae’s hand with a tight grip and led them toward the stall. They stopped a few feet from the corpse—a burnt husk that smelt of sulfur and decay. Hector, letting go of Mirae’s hand, brought his own hand over his nose as he squinted.

“This thing didn’t smell that bad when we were fighting it, did it?” he asked, looking at Lincoln. The boy’s eyes scanned the beast before he shrugged.

“I don’t think so, but then again, I was too busy trying not to become its next meal to really give it a proper whiff.” He sighed and rested his hand on his hip. Raising an eyebrow, he gave Hector a questioning look as he backed up. “So what did you want from this thing, anyway?”

Hector stepped forward, the wood of his sandals cracking against the debris as he picked through the wreckage. “Not much. I just wanted to see what it was that we were actually fighting.”

“And you couldn’t do that from here?”

System, are the fragments still present?

————————————————

///: “Yes, but they are currently in the process of decay. If they are not extracted now, they shall be lost.”

————————————————

Okay, that’s good. It’s not a waste, but I’ll need to make this fast.

————————————————

///: “The target does not have a soul space, so fragments can be extracted from the target without leaving this plane. Just place your hand on it.”

————————————————

It doesn’t have a soul space. Why? Is it because it’s dead?

Hector dropped to his knees and placed his hand on the Void Hunger’s rough, obsidian skin. It brushed against his palm, almost scratching it—like the bark of an old, long-dead tree.

————————————————

///: “Void entities do not have souls. They are creatures of pure oblivion. It is unknown why, but they do develop Talent fragments, though most never manifest into full Talents. That is all I can tell you for now.”

————————————————

Oh. Okay. System, extract talents.

An energy pulsed through Hector’s hand, and a moment later, something reacted. The power slipped through his veins, his skin rippling as it flowed into him. It was as if someone had just poured sugar into his arteries.

“Hector, are you all right?” Mirae said, stepping forward and cracking a piece of wood with her foot. “It’s not coming back, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” Hector replied, pushing off from his thigh and coming to his feet.

Lincoln gave him a queer look, placing a hand on the back of his head. “Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked, glancing behind him. Various people around the festival shambled about—many injured, with wounds dripping blood onto the floor. “I hope you did, because I think we should get going.”

Hector looked off into the distance. The Void Ravager at the center of the festival was on a rampage, its tentacles whipping about as it fought off attacks from people that Hector couldn’t make out at this distance. “Yeah, I just want to have a look at the other two creatures. I think there is something I’ve come to understand.”

“Oh, really?” Lincoln said, looking back at him. His gaze made Hector fidget. It was as if Lincoln were searching for something—Hector wasn’t very good at lying to his friends, and Lincoln probably picked up on it. “Alright, if you think you’re onto something, then let’s go check them out. But as soon as you’re done, we need to get moving.”

Hector nodded, crunching across the debris as he reached for Mirae’s hand. She gripped it tightly, and he gave her a reassuring smile, which seemed to steady her shaking. He reminded himself he was doing this for her.

“Now let’s go see what these two have. Hopefully, the fragments won’t have decayed by the time I can extract them.”

——

Emela pursed her lips behind her mask. Crossing her arms, she scanned the area and took in the destruction the creature had wrought. It was now frozen—a husk of what it had been when it rampaged through the festival earlier.

Nyx, standing a short distance away on the cobblestone, turned to her, her face hidden by a simple black mask. “I don’t think these are mana beasts, mistress.” A second creature—its tentacles now limp—lay a short distance away, its carcass crushing the stall beneath it.

“That much is obvious. The wrongness these creatures give off is nothing like I’ve ever experienced,” Emela said, tapping her foot on the beast’s skin. Although frozen, the obsidian-like surface still emanated an eerie, unnatural feeling—like a perversion of life.

“Perhaps we should ask Mistress Cathrine. Maybe she would know what they are,” Nyx suggested, cleaning her hands on her leather pants and stepping over.

Emela scoffed, jumping off the beast and bouncing onto the cobblestone. Shaking her head, she sighed—it was a nice thought, but it wouldn’t work. “If I told them I was anywhere near this place, they’d lock me up for at least a month. It might not be fully in the slums, but the festival is still too far from the centre of Middlec for their liking.”

Nyx nodded, glancing over as a man shambled out from a destroyed stall. He had a large cut on his back, with splinters of wood clinging to his blood-soaked shirt, yet he seemed unconcerned. His focus was fixed on the stall. He dropped to his knees with a thud and began sobbing. “Why, why…”

“Mistress, should we?” Nyx asked, gesturing toward the poor man.

Emela shook her head. It wasn’t her place—she could give him some coin, but she doubted it could bring back what he’d lost. Licking her lips, her warm breath brushing her cheek, Emela looked away. There was no need to watch.

Around the path, similar scenes played out. Wails filled the air as people questioned the meaning behind it all. But Emela knew the reason: they were too weak. How could they ever hope to defend themselves against a creature that treated them like food?

The air whipped as someone cracked onto the cobblestone. Turning to see who, Emela discovered a woman with green hair rustling gently in the wind, standing over the corpse of the creature that had crushed the stall. The woman frowned at the beast, biting her lip before turning to Emela and Nyx.

“You killed this thing,” she said, gesturing toward the corpse.

Emela nodded and took a confident step forward. Playing coy would only put her at a disadvantage—she had to go full-on noble, irony and all. Nyx moved in front of Emela, taking up a defensive stance.

The woman tilted her head and brought a finger to her red lips. “Strange—children so young, able to take out a creature of the void with such ease. And two of them, no less.” She glanced past Emela to the creature’s body behind her. “I see. A Frostkeep, and a blessed blood at that. Interesting.”

A smile tugged at the woman’s lips as the wind ruffled her hair. She reached into her robes, and Emela tensed. Her heart quickened. If this woman was who she thought she was, they were in trouble.

Sorry For The Inconvenience

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Chapter 36: Can You Save Yourself First?

“Lincoln, activate the talisman!” Hector yelled, reaching a hand into his pocket, grabbing his own and willing it to activate. A balloon of energy formed from it, exploding into a thick membrane that coated his entire body. It wobbled before settling across his body.

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” Lincoln said, activating his own. Hector handed another talisman of the three or four he’d been given to Mirae. She took it and gripped it in her small, trembling hands.

“You activate it when I say, alright? Not a moment before,” Hector said, turning back to the creature bounding towards them. Its claws scratched at the cobblestone each time it moved. Mirae let out a sound—hopefully, she understood what she needed to do.

Hector didn’t know how long these talismans would last. And if it wasn’t long enough, he didn’t want hers running out when she needed it the most. He took a step forward, his sandaled feet crushing splintered wood. “Shouldn’t we just run? I mean, the guards are coming this way, and we don’t exactly have a good reason for the coin pouches we have on us,” Lincoln said.

“That is the least of my worries, Lincoln,” Hector said, getting into his fighting stance. “We need to keep that thing off, Mirae. If it’s running from the guards, it shouldn’t waste much time on us.” Hector, gulping, gestured behind them. “It’s that one I’m worried about—it could catch us off guard or team up with its friend. Then the guards won’t be much help at all.”

Lincoln frowned, lowering his stance and moving next to Hector, blocking Mirae. “You better not abandon me again. I don’t feel like being a snack all by myself this time, alright.”

“If we make it through this, I will make it up to you. I promise,” Hector said, licking his lips and tasting salt. The groans of the injured nearby came to his ear, but listening to that would do him no good—he wasn’t a healer or a hero; he just needed to keep his family safe.

The creature reached them and Hector barreled forward, Lincoln at his side. He needed to make sure it was as far away from Mirae as possible. With a grunt, narrowly avoiding a lashing tentacle, Hector barreled into it, slamming it.

It screeched, raising a paw and swiping for him. Lincoln was there, swivelling through the air and delivering a devastating heel kick. The paw was knocked back. Hector kicked off, raising a knee and whipping out, delivering an Orion Leaping Strike to its obsidian black, featureless face. It staggered.

While Hector sprinted to the creature’s back, Lincoln rushed forward with three quick blows. Little effect. Grunting, Hector exploded off the cobblestone, raising a knee, and slammed his foot into the beast’s hide. It staggered forward, stumbling. A tentacle shot from its back, thick and pulsing, crunching down into the cobblestone, steadying it. Hector stepped back over to Lincoln, lowering his stance and raising his fists. The creature growled, baring its teeth, its tentacles whipping through the air.

Heavy footsteps beat off the cobblestone. The two white-robed guards charged forward, not even paying them any attention, and thrust forward with their polearms. While the creature lunged forward, swinging a paw at the two, Hector and Lincoln, relaxing a little, shuffled back—he and Lincoln had done all they needed to; the guards could take over.

“Are you alright?” Hector asked Mirae, as he stepped over, keeping half his attention on the fight between the guards and the beast. Lincoln flanked him, kicking at broken fragments of wood, as his gaze traveled around the destroyed path.

She nodded, running over. “What way do we go now?”

“It’s probably best to go in the direction that they came from,” Hector said, watching the guards fight. The two had managed to push it back, but the beast was getting closer to its friend. If it joined in, Hector didn’t like the guards’ chances.

“Yeah, perhaps.” Lincoln crossed his arms, frowning as he watched a woman crawl across the cobblestone, her legs broken. He muttered something—he must not have wanted Hector to hear, as he was especially quiet.

“Let’s go then,” Hector said, grabbing Mirae’s hand, and moving in the direction the guards had come from. Lincoln trailed behind him, constantly looking over his shoulder. That was a good thing since Hector couldn’t watch both his front and back at the same time. You never knew when another creature could pop out.

Hector felt a tug on his hand as he hurried. He glanced back, raising a brow at Mirae. “What’s up?”

She didn’t speak, instead pointing off to the side. The wind buffeted a destroyed stall nearby. Hector turned—his heart dropped. Off in the distance, near the center of the festival, was another one of the creatures. But bigger. Much bigger. Thick black tentacles lashing through the air, it loomed over everything, easily five stories tall.

————————————————

///: Acquiring target stats…

————————————————

/// Creature Type: Void Ravager

Cultivation level: [Core Formation-1]

Talent: [None]

Talent Fragment: [5-Legendary]

///

————————————————

Hector’s mind whirled. There was no way that thing just appeared out of thin air. But yet here it was, right in front of him.

That can’t be real, right? It can’t be.

While Hector stood frozen, Lincoln bumped into his back, staggering. “What’s the holdup—by the Great Lake? What is that?”

“I think you might be right, Lincoln. I don’t know if that’s a mana beast.” Hector looked down the path where the guards were still fighting the smaller creatures. The men were now losing. At this rate, they would kill the guards and pick a new target.

Lincoln dropped to his knees, slamming his fist onto the cobblestone. “I don’t care what it is anymore. I hate this; we just came to do one simple thing, and now we are going to die for it. How is that fair?”

“Lincoln, we aren’t going to die.”

The boy looked up, eyes red, scowling. “Do you think we can outrun that thing? Are you serious? For all you know, there could be a whole army of those smaller ones nearby.”

Hector opened his mouth, but no words came out. Mirae’s warm hand squeezed his as she took a step closer, her shaking form reinforcing what he had to do. A cool breeze ruffled his hair, carrying with it the smell of sweet bread and urine. His heart, slowly settling, leapt as the stall a little ways down the street from them exploded into fragments of wood and cloth as another Void Hunger scurried out onto the cobblestone, claws clattering. It lowered its head, sniffing at the ground.

Just great, another one. But it’s funny. The only thing that scares me right now is losing Mirae. I wonder why? I know I’m scared, but it’s not paralyzing.

————————————————

 ///: “If the user cannot maintain a certain threshold of clear-headedness, he will not be able to use the system functions.”

————————————————

Well, damn. We’ll have to talk about that little revelation later.

Frowning, Hector released Mirae’s warm hand and stepped towards the beast. His heart sank as he looked back at Lincoln. His friend hadn’t moved, still kneeling and staring at the cobblestone with vacant eyes—he wouldn’t be much help right now, but hopefully, he could buy the boy some time to get himself together.

As Hector turned back to the beast, its featureless face looked up. Sunlight danced across its obsidian skin as Hector gritted his teeth, tightening his fist. It had found him. Sure, there were people nearby—but the beast seemed trained on him.

“Mirae, you stay with Lincoln, okay?” Hector said, forcing a tight smile. The water building on the edge of his sister’s eyes made him waver, but he had to do this; no one else would. “You will be alright.” His gaze drifted down the pathway to where the two guards still fought the two beasts. One guard’s arm hung at an odd angle, but he still fought on—Hector had to respect that kind of persistence.

Turning, Hector darted forward, crossing the distance to the beast in moments. The creature opened its razor-filled jaw and roared, snapping towards his chest, forcing him to leap to the side. He crunched onto his shoulder, rolled, and kicked off the cold cobblestone. He felt the air whip past his cheek as he twisted away from the beast’s tentacle and lashed forward with an Orion Leaping Strike straight to the beast’s side.

Hector’s kick sent the creature staggering, its screech echoing off the stones as it skittered backwards. He pulled on [Quickening Brace], feeling time slow to a crawl as he watched the beast, tracking and plotting the path its paw would take as it went to readjust itself—There, it was a misdirect; it would go with the tentacle first.

The world around him snapped back into motion. He flung his body backwards, his hands smacking and pushing off the cold cobblestone as the creature’s tentacle cracked down where he’d been moments before. He then kicked off the stone, twisting his body through the air and channelling his momentum into a devastating kick. His heel connected with the creature’s head, and he felt the impact shudder through his leg as it slammed into the ground with a sickening crack.

He pushed off the ugly thing’s head, twisting out of the way as a tentacle whipped by his face. Pain exploded in his side as a second tentacle he hadn’t seen slammed into him, cracking into the stone skin membrane. The impact sent him flying, slamming him into the cobblestone. Loose pieces of wood splintering against his back.

“Hector!” His sister’s voice cut through his mild daze as he pushed himself up into a seated position and coughed—it had definitely knocked the wind out of him. A careless mistake. Dangerous even. Hector let out a shaky breath, feeling the cool wind against his arms. If he made more mistakes like that, Mirae would be next—after the beast finished chewing on him.

Hector’s ear twitched as familiar footsteps echoed off the cobblestone behind him. “That looked like it actually hurt,” Lincoln said, his voice causing Hector’s shoulders to relax—it had taken that idiot more than long enough to get himself together. “Do you think you’ll need a hand?”

Chuckling, Hector placed a hand on his knee and clambered shakily to his feet. “You know, I think I’ve had enough fun with it alone. But this is probably a two-man job.”

“Oh really? Then I guess you won’t mind if I cut in.”

Hector fought back a smile as his friend stepped next to him and lowered his stance. Lincoln thumbed over his shoulder to the fight still going on behind. “By the way, we might want to hurry this up; I don’t think the guards can hold on much longer.”

“That’s the idea,” Hector said, his sandaled feet scraping across the cobblestone as he got into his fighting stance. He eyed the Void Hunger as it slowly stalked towards him and Lincoln—it seemed to welcome the extra challenge.

“You know it’s funny, Lincoln. I think we can actually beat it. It should actually be on its last legs.”

Lincoln grunted in response, but Hector knew that was enough—his friend would follow his lead—no words needed.

Tightening his fist, he got ready to charge. But his eyes went wide as something blurred into the side of the creature, taking it off its feet and slamming it into a destroyed stall. The impact sent a plume of torn cloth and wooden shrapnel into the air, and Hector found himself tracking pieces of debris as they tumbled through the destruction.

What the hell was that?

Chapter 35: Why are there always new problems?

Mr. Penneybrook—holding another unfamiliar talisman—sighed as he looked past Hector, gazing at the stall behind him. The screams and wails outside, dulled by the sound-damping talismans, carried through the stall’s fabric. The man shook his head. “I need to stay and protect them,” he said, eyes hardening, as he glanced back at the chest where he kept the talismans. “It’s all that’s important right now.” 

More than your own son or nephew—what’s so special about some damn talismans? You can’t eat them.

“But, sir, what about Marcus? Surely he’s— “

“You will take care of him,” the man said, cutting Hector off. “While I do my best here to make sure we don’t lose our future.” He moved towards the chest, his steps shaky, and stood over it, staring. “I can’t lose all this. You have to understand. Marcus will understand.” 

“I think the old man’s lost it,” Lincoln whispered next to Hector’s ear. He hadn’t lost it, but he was definitely prioritizing the wrong thing. What was with the adults in their lives, always thinking they knew what was best. They didn’t. They were just as unsure as them—this fact was true even in Hector’s old world.

“Mr Pennybrook.” 

“Go!” the man, shaking with emotion, yelled, startling Hector. “You children can’t afford to waste any more time.” Mirae tensed, gripping the fabric of Hector’s shirt as she deepened her hug. 

Hector turned, moving Mirae along with him, facing the exit to the room. “It’s okay, we are going to go. It’s gonna be fine.” He, brushing his hand through Mirae’s hair, looked up at Lincoln. “It’s pointless. He’s not going to listen. We have to find the others.” 

“We tried,” Lincoln said, shrugging and placing a hand in his pocket. “We have these now, anyway.” He inclined his head to his trousers. “When we find Marcus, we will just tell him what happened. It’s not our fault.” 

It kinda would be. If I didn’t have Mirae, I would be tempted to try to drag him out. But that could do more harm than good.

Hector nodded. The light, flickering softly from the various lanterns, wobbled as the ground shook. They needed to go—whatever was happening outside was getting worse.

Hector pushed Mirae forward, looking back one more time. Mr. Pennybrook was frantically running around the room, placing heavy wall talismans—apparently very useful for reinforcing a structure, at least that’s what Marcus had once said—in every corner of the stall. 

Hector took a step and stopped, grabbing onto the door frame and frowning as he moved forward. The man cared so much about his wares that he was willing to risk his life for it. Why? It didn’t make much sense to Hector. You couldn’t bring someone back to life with any of this. Was the man that scared of losing a few talismans? Surely he had more at the shop. 

He needs to learn to cut his losses. But then again, who knows, maybe I would be doing the same if I were in his shoes. 

Leaving the room behind, his heart heavy as he thought about how Marcus would react, Hector sighed. They had to go back out there, but if he was honest. It was probably better to be out in the open. At least you might see something coming—the speed those guys were fighting at it was a little hard to keep track of things, for him anyway. 

Mirae turned to him, a nervous smile on her face. Hector nodded, but as she went to speak, an ominous aura, thick and oozing, like a slug sliding under his skin, washed over him. The slimy essence invaded his body, making his skin spasm. Hector, gagging, reached for Mirae as a look of sickness overcame her features. 

Lincoln’s eyes went wide as he looked at Hector, his whole body trembling. An instant later, a roar ripped through the space, shredding the air and slamming into Hector’s ears. He dropped to one knee, clutching his head in pain as the world began to spin. A second reverberation sent him to the ground, screaming as the sound tore his mind apart. 

Lincoln and Mirae—both affected by the terrible sound—writhed on the floor in pain. Gritting his teeth, mind thick with fog, Hector tried to crawl towards his sister. Hector fought through the pain just to get a little closure, but then all at once the sound stopped, silence flooded in, and his ears were left ringing. 

What in the hell was that? I’ve never heard anything like that before… Mirae.

He scurried forward, scooping his arms underneath Mirae and pulling her to his chest. The girl groaned, clearly in pain, but she wasn’t hurt physically. “Hey, Hey. Look at me,” Hector said, snapping his fingers as her eyes aimlessly wandered around in their sockets. “Just focus on my voice.” 

Finally, after a moment, her eyes focused, and she looked at Hector and gave him a weak smile. “I’m alright, you don’t need to worry. How is everyone else?” 

Hector smiled, glancing away from her. Lincoln, shaking a little, was on his hands and knees. He let out several curses, bringing his hand to his chest and letting out a heavy sigh. “That is not how you get someone’s attention.” 

I don’t think whatever that was is looking for attention.  

Hector looked back at the backroom of the stall. The ominous feeling still pervaded the air, but it had lessened some. No movement came from the back room. Was Mr Pennybrook okay? He should be—it had been bad, but not enough to kill someone, surely.

“I’ll go check on the old man,” Lincoln said, getting to his feet with a wobble, and staggering past Hector. 

Hector focused back on Mirae. She seemed a lot better. Hector smiled at her, and straining a little, got her back to her feet. He climbed to his feet a moment later. “How are you feeling?” 

“Not the best, but I think I should feel fine.” 

The screams, which had been silent until now, sounded again—the sound-dampening talismans dulled most of it though. But even with that, they seemed more intense. Something was wrong. “The man is fine,” Lincoln said, stepping out of the backroom, and shaking his head. “He’s back to protecting his room. It’s best we go now.” 

“I don’t know,” Hector said, clenching his fist. The lights on the stall’s canopy shook. “I don’t know, but whatever that was, it sounded like it would be a lot worse than two mana-cultivators fighting. Maybe even a mana-beast, a big one.” 

Lincoln chuckled, “Don’t be ridiculous; how would it get past the great lake for one and two, how would it get past the city walls?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Trust me, it’s not a mana-beast.” Lincoln, arms tense as he clutched at the talismans in his pocket, walked past Hector, placing a hand on his shoulder. “A mana-beast would be long dead before it set foot in the city. I can promise you that.” 

Hector pursed his lips. Mana-beasts—creatures charged with mana that lived beyond the great lake—weren’t rare, but you would definitely not see one in the city unless it was in chains. Was Lincoln right? Perhaps. But then, what was it? He’d never heard of a beast roar doing anything like that. 

Hector nodded, gesturing towards the exit. He wanted to help Mr. Pennybrook, but he had to get Mirae out of here first. Once she was safe, they would come back and force him out. Lincoln moved, and Hector followed, Mirae trailing behind. They threaded through the cramped aisle, ducking under swaying lanterns. 

They exited the stall, walking out into the open air, bracing for what they would find. They froze. The path, which had once been a bustling stall-choked walkway, was completely destroyed. Wood and cloth from what used to be different vendors lay scattered. Broken and torn. The confetti had stopped falling, and screams strangled the air from various directions—the festival was in ruins.

All around the area, various festivalgoers groaned in pain, some holding their heads, others clutching at broken limbs. A man, red-faced and huffing, sprinted down the street. Vomit stained his clothes, but that seemed to be the least of his worries. 

What is he—

A creature, its black tentacles writhing from its back, burst out of a shattered stall, tearing the fabric to shreds as it slammed onto the cobblestone. Spider-web-like cracks spread from its obsidian paws as it locked onto the man—though Hector wasn’t sure how, as it had no eyes. Just rows of sharp white razor-like teeth littering its wide mouth. 

The man looked back—a mistake—tripped over his feet, and tumbled to the ground. The creature exploded forward, bounding across the cobblestone and over to the man in several leaps. The creature stopped, tilted its head, and snapped down on his leg with a sickening crunch.  

“What in the great lake is that thing?” Lincoln yelled, as nearby people, eyes wide with fear, screamed. 

“Isn’t that a Mana-beast?” Hector asked, tugging Mirae and moving her behind him. 

“No. Mana-beast don’t look like that.” 

“How do you know?” 

“I’ve seen pictures in books, alright. And none of them look anything like that.” 

Hector’s brow tightened as he scanned the area. What was that thing? And were there more? 

————————————————

///: Acquiring target stats… Identifying outlier…

————————————————

/// 

Creature Type: Void Hunger

Cultivation level:[Rank-1] = [Gravity Forging - 2]

Talent: [None]

Talent Fragment: [2-Uncommon]

/// 

————————————————

That thing has talent fragments, but how? It doesn’t even have a Talent. What is a Void Hunger? 

Whatever the creature was, it was only a minor realm above him. The only problem was Hector had never seen or fought anything like it. Just because it was a single realm higher didn’t mean it would be a close fight. 

Hector turned to Lincoln, standing transfixed on the beast, and rested a hand on his arm, shaking him. “We need to go.” He was in no position to save the man, especially with Mirae around. If there were more than one Void Hunger in the area, he would be putting Mirae at risk.

Lincoln, his eyes locked onto the creature, nodded. “Yeah, we should get out of here. I don’t exactly fancy being turned into minced meat.” He turned to Hector, licking his lips as his eyes darted from left to right. “It’s after that, man. We should use the distraction to sneak the other way.” 

Hector frowned—it wasn’t a bad plan, but it was callous, almost barbaric. He glanced at Mirae, who had an appalled look on her face. Hector, taking her hand, sighed and looked back at the man being eaten alive by the creature. “It’s the easy way out, but I can’t risk your life. Mirae, we’re going to have to go with Lincoln’s idea.” 

Mirae groaned but nodded. “It’s a coward’s excuse. I almost don’t want to say it, but we are too weak to help him.” She said, sniffling as she wiped a tear falling down her cheek. 

“If he had only been a faster runner,” Lincoln said, scratching his head.

Lincoln, this really is not the time. 

Some people, freed from their fear, scrambled to their feet, tripping over themselves as they pushed past others. A bold bearded man knocked an old lady to the floor as he ran for his life. He was a coward for sure, but could Hector blame him? He was a mortal, and Hector was sort of doing the same. 

They, as one, began to walk back, careful to not catch the Void Hunger’s attention as it ate. The poor man screamed as it moved up his body, crunching on him like lettuce.  

Hector gulped, shielding Mirae’s eyes as he moved her along. A few broken stalls down, wood and fabric exploded as another beast crashed onto the cobblestone. More than a few paces behind it were two white-robed guards. They scurried over the remains of the stall, poles angled toward the beast. 

It snarled, batting a paw at one of the poles that thrusted towards it. Sparks flying as claw contacted metal. The creature jumped back. Swivelled. And began running down the path, tentacles lashing out as the guards chased it. 

Hector froze, heart hammering in his chest, and pulled Mirae to a stop. Lincoln backed up, stumbling on a piece of wood. It was coming towards them. 

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Chapter 34: What Is A Life Worth To You?

Festival-goers stopped and watched, taking in the sight. Many of them were too drunk to know what was going on. But entertainment was entertainment, so they wouldn’t care—It was just some more slum rats fighting.

“So, are we splitting them?” Lincoln said, grunting. He looked from each boy to the next, sizing them up. “I could take the blond, and shorter one. While you get the big one and Adrian.” 

Does he not see how screwed we are right now? These aren’t the usual dump guards. And that guy got up a little too casually, for my liking. I mean, who rolls their shoulders after getting up off the ground? 

Hector took a step back, signalling for Lincoln to do the same. Confetti flicked by, whipping at his eyes as the gathering crowd watched on. Lincoln raised a brow, giving him a questioning look as he followed. “What’s wrong? We can take these guys.”

“It seems Ghost is scared Adrian,” the older boy said. Chuckling, he rested a hand on Adrian’s shoulder, pointing the other at Hector, “He really is a coward, sneak attacking someone, then running away with his tail in between his legs.”

Adrian—not one to displease his new leader—chuckled. He looked between the older boy and the two others. “I think he is scared of the name Scoda. Him and his other dump friend are just cowards picking on those weaker than them.”

Is he dumb? Why would I fear some random gang that just popped up the other day?

The blond boy chuckled, “So you are saying you’re weaker than them, Adrian? I mean, they’ve been kicking your hide for years.”

Adrian blushed and lowered his head. Hector almost felt sorry for him. He’d walked right into that one. Life was hard being a dog at the bottom of the pack. 

“It’s not them I’m worried about,” Hector said, his voice barely a whisper. Scanning around the growing crowd, he didn’t spot any guards. But that could all change in moments. If they were to get cornered now, the chance of an escape to Mr Pennybrook’s stall would be low, if not impossible.

“Alright lads, enough playing around. We can’t keep Claire waiting. You know what she’ll do if we make her wait too long,” the older boy said. “Let’s wrap this up.”

He kicked off the ground, darting forward like a bolt. The surrounding confetti whipped by as he launched forward with a jab. Hector jerked to the side, ducking and sweeping a foot out, slamming it into the older boy’s shin. The boy chuckled—He was a bit harder to deal with when he was ready for an attack.

Hector dove out of the way as Adrian charged forward with a kick. Then another. Then another. Leaping back from the final one, twisting through the air, Hector hoped to a stop. Lincoln charged forward, leaping off the ground, twisting his body and kicking down. The blow landed squarely on Adrian’s head—the second time that empty space had been targeted—dropping him to his knees.

Adrian’s knees then buckled underneath him as he collapsed to the floor—He was not going to be happy when he woke up. The older boy looked at Adrian, kissed his teeth and swung at Lincoln. The blow grazed him, sending him stumbling back. 

The other two boys closed in—Hector could see where this was going. He reached forward, grabbing Lincoln’s hand, pulling him back. “We need to go now,” he said amidst the cheering of the crowd—No wonder the nobles looked down on the common folk. If street fights were a valid form of entertainment for them, that left a lot to be desired.

As Hector went to breakthrough the crowd’s encirclement. A scream tore through the festival. Moments later, several feet down the path, a figure shot through a stall and slammed into the cobblestone. The people that were in its path now lay, on the cobblestone, on their sides, clutching at broken limbs. 

The air of the festival seemed to still as many fell quiet. The figure got to his feet. It was a man dressed in black robes, accented with gold. Two large black tentacles, writhing and undulating, whipped from his back as he stood with a scowl on his face. Red eyes, hazy with power, stared at something Hector couldn’t see.

What is that man?

————————————————

///: Acquiring target stats…

————————————————

/// 

Cultivation level: [Gravity Forging - 6]

Talent: [Void Embrace[•○○] (1/3)]

Talent Fragment: [2-Rare]

/// 

————————————————

Rare—two tiers above any Hector had seen before—standing in front of him. It would be great if this wasn’t one of the most dangerous people Hector had ever seen. The tentacles on the man’s back lashed at the air, turning the confetti into black ash as it passed. What were those tentacles? To be able to do that to the confetti…

Lincoln tugged on Hector’s hand, narrowing his eyes as their gazes met. “We should probably head the other way. I don’t know what that man is, but it’s not good news.”

Well, I wasn’t exactly planning to run head first towards him. Even if he’s got a rare Talent.

Hector nodded. In the strained silence—broken only by fragments of distant music—a voice suddenly spoke. “Oh, Draken. Is this really the path you’ve chosen? Giving up on your brothers, your sisters in arms and instead suckling on the teet of your pathetic masters.” A man garbed in dark red robes stepped out from the destruction of the stall. In his hands were two daggers, with flames licking across their surface, giving off a small haze of heat. 

“You know nothing, Wymon. Nothing. You are but a sheep used by these dammed nobles. Slaughtering beasts and losing your lives all for their amusement. You think yourself lucky, but you aren’t. You are a fool’s aspiration, a decoration piece.” 

The red-robed man—Wymon—snorted, raising his daggers. “At least I have a purpose. What about you? I keep the fragile peace that is left while you seek to open up old wounds and have us all sacrificed for your misguided beliefs.” 

A woman with a blond bun stepped next to Wymon, holding a long metal whip. Frost danced across the surface of the whip, icicles filtering to the cobblestone as it swayed. She spoke into Wymon’s ear. He nodded, lowering his stance. “I don’t know what you are planning, but your friend won’t make it to his objective.” 

The black-robed man, Draken, chuckled. Hector—taking the time to slowly back up—felt his skin crawl at the man’s laughter. “Just like you, Wymon, always plowing straight ahead, not thinking about what you can’t see.” 

The man shot forward, a tentacle on his back lashed out, the air quaking in its wake. Wymon raised his dagger. A metallic clang followed, and he was knocked back, his figure slamming through a stall. 

Another tentacle on Draken’s back whipped at the blond-haired lady. She ducked, lashing out with her whip. Draken dodged, sidestepping, and kicking out at her. The blow staggered her as she gasped. 

Wymon shot out of the stall, daggers blazing, lunging forward with two practiced strikes. One jabbed into the man’s side. He let out a scream, tentacles flailing. The second went for his chest but was stopped as chitinous plates erupted from his torso, blocking the blow, knocking him back. Draken skidded to a stop on the cobblestone, dropping to a knee and clutching his side. After a moment, he removed his hand. Wiggling flesh moved into place and the wound was closed. 

Alright, nope. I’ve seen enough. If this goes on, we could be caught in the crossfire. 

Hector swivelled on his feet, dragging Lincoln with him as they bolted in the opposite direction. Those around him—the sober ones anyway—saw this and turned. Screams erupted as the silence that had gripped the area moments before evaporated. Confetti rushed past Hector’s eyes as he made his way around people and headed towards Mr Pennybrook’s stall. 

“What in the Great Lake is that!” Lincoln yelled from behind, his sandals slapping against the cobblestone. “Have you ever seen anything like that before?” 

“Of course not!” Hector replied, weaving in between two people—the speed of normal people left a lot to be desired. “Mana cultivators don’t just grow tentacles from their back, well, not those in the Gravity Forging realm, anyway.”

Eventually, they came to a stop outside the stall. Panicked festivalgoers rushed by, jolting them and bouncing off. Hector paid no mind to them and bundled into the stall, Lincoln trailing behind. 

The sounds from the outside were immediately dulled as the effect of the noise-damping talismans kicked in. The screams and shouts, now a dull din in the background. Hector moved through the tight aisles ducking, underneath a lamp as he made his way further in. “Mirae. Mirae! Are you here?” 

“Yes.” Her voice came from further in, past the till section and in the backrooms. A wave of calm washed over Hector at the sound of her voice, only to be drained as he remembered what was going on outside.

He rushed forward, elbow knocking into a shell as he moved with purpose. In moments, he stood at the door to the backroom. Mirae sat on her chair, with her elbows on the table and her hands in her hair. Sandwiches were stacked neatly a short distance away from her. 

Mr Pennybrook, stood towards the side of the room, peeking out a small hole in the side of the stall’s fabric, tapping his foot. He glanced back at Hector. “What’s going on out there? What’s with all the screaming?” 

Mirae hopped off the chair, scurrying over to Hector, slamming into his chest. Her arms gripped him tight as she let out muffled sobs. “I was so worried. I thought those boys had done something to you. But you’re alright. You’re alright.” 

Hector rubbed her head. She didn’t move his hand away this time. Mr. Pennybrook stepped over to the chest in the corner of the room, bent down, and pried it open. He reached inside, snagging a few talismans Hector couldn’t make out—not that he’d know what they were even if he could see them. “So?” Mr. Pennybrook asked, closing the chest. “What’s going on out there? What boys? And where are Marcus and his cousin?” 

Hector frowned, brushing a hand through Mirae’s hair, and cradling her head as Lincoln stopped behind him. Mr. Pennybook nodded at him. “Marcus should be alright,” Hector said. “He’s on the east side of the festival. But we won’t be. Some Phoenix Company guys are fighting… I don’t know why. But it’s serious. Stalls are being destroyed and people are getting hurt. We have to go.” 

Mr. Pennybook’s face dropped, like he’d just been told he’d lost a praised pet. He looked from Hector to Lincoln. “This is true?” 

Lincoln nodded—actually taking the situation seriously. Scratching at the back of his head, he let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know if it will spread here, but it’s getting pretty messy. Hector’s right, it’s not safe here for us. We have to leave.” 

Mr Pennybrook’s eyes flickered. He turned and rushed back over to the chest, dropping to a knee and prying it back open. The hinges creaked under the speed. He scooped a hand in and picked up a bundle of talismans before snapping it back shut and hopping to his feet. 

He rushed over to Hector—practically tripping—and held out two talismans for him. Mirea briefly moved her head from Hector’s chest, eyeing the contents in Mr. Pennybrook’s hand. Hector took one and held it up to his eye. Energy hummed from the lines that ran across its wooden surface, snaking through like blood through veins. 

“That Is a stone-skin talisman,” Mr. Pennybrook said, reaching a hand past Hector and handing another talisman to Lincoln, who accepted it with apparent confusion. “You will need it if things are as dangerous as you say.” 

Hector frowned, placing the talisman in his pocket and taking the second one that Mr. Pennybrook was handing to him. “Don’t give me that look,” the man said, noticing Hector’s face. “I’m not going to charge you for them, but I need you children safe. Give one to Marcus and his cousin.” He handed a second talisman to Lincoln. 

Paying you back is the last thing I’m worried about. I want to know what you're planning.

“Sir, what about you? Are you not coming with us? Why don’t you just give it to him yourself?” Hector asked, slotting the second one into his other pocket. 

The mans eyes lowered, as he bit his lower lip. “I could be about to do something really stupid. If this goes wrong. Tell him I’m sorry.” 

“What are you going to do?”