A/N: sorry for the delay. Updating from phone, so the quality might suffer a bit.
And one chapter still due. I'll get to that somewhere next week.
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Chapter 32: Unintended Harm
Returning to the quarters, I busied myself with miscellaneous tasks, from training my shaping, writing my journal, to instructing Diana on rune engraving. I agreed with Master Kaius to talk everything about the incident through with my parents, even the elder came to our abode to make sure of that, but I was not yet prepared for it.
My parents did not ask anything about it, waiting for me to come to them of my own accord, though they did not leave me to myself either.
Once it was noon, I sat down with the book Grand Uncle Varyn had gifted me. It was a biography of my grandfather, Arcis Silverheart, denoting his early life, aspirations, heroic exploits, and his sacrifice. For such a rich life, it was more of a philosophical epic than the heroic tales I was used to with books like these.
The volume was thick. I had read it all within a couple of days, though it was not a book to be digested in a short time. Uncle Varyn had written it all himself, spending no insignificant amount of time, and neither was the life of the man within the pages. It was the kind of book one pondered on.
Today, I was rereading a section that depicted the inner turmoil of a young Arcis. Born into a family of noble knights, Arcis’ morality was as high as his talent. So when he came across a few miscreants from a noble family abusing their power over their subjects, he did not think twice to strike them, sometimes even crippling the worst offenders.
However, it was only years later that he found out his righteous rage had only fuelled the nobles to abuse the victims further. There was one girl named Kaila, a mere fisherman’s daughter. She was young and pretty, and had easily caught the fancy of one such miscreant, who went to great lengths to pressure their little family until Kaila had no other choice but to become the noble’s bedwarmer.
Young Arcis saved her from that fate and, leaving some compensation for the family’s hardship, he called the matter closed. It was only after a few months that he found out what had befallen her was far worse than the fate he thought he had saved her from.
Being ostracised and pressured from all sides, the fisherman had chosen to hang herself, and as for the girl, she was sold into prostitution.
Possessed by guilt, Arcis went to great lengths to make amends, of what little right he could do to the girl. Not only Kaila, he found more whom he had harmed with his helping hand.
Despite the hands that dealt the most harm not being his, the blame lay with him. Grandfather had seen it in the eyes of the victims and their families. In social circles, people lauded his character, but he knew his noble deeds were nothing more than a child’s misguided attempts at playing a hero.
From then on, he was much more careful about when to act, and how to act. In the latter part of the book, he made sure to teach his eldest daughter, my Mum, the lesson so that she did not have to face the same guilt and turmoil.
It left so much to ruminate on. Despite all good intentions, some ill might fall whether one intended it or not.
My involvement in the alchemy shop began from a well intentioned thought. Maybe it was the simple life I lived throughout Karmel that made me easy to trust people, coupled with my childish impatience and recklessness, which made me overlook something like the hallucinating smoke from the matriarchal woman’s pipe. Ultimately, the harm had fallen upon common bystanders.
In the book, Grandfather had mentioned unintentional ill a number of times, that the more powerful one becomes, our flaws would grow, magnified in proportion. Just as gifting great wealth to the powerless would attract bandits to their home, when two elephants fight, it was only the ants who suffered.
Putting the book away, I decided to make some headway into the assignment Father had given me, only to remember I had failed to acquire the alchemical materials required to refine the alloys. Well, there were still plenty of common metals available in the inventory, so I was not too worried. Neither did I think I had an answer to what Father’s task truly meant.
My ideal sword.
In the battle, I had gained the way of Aura Resonance of Penetration. I had not tested its effectiveness, but if it was anything to go by the result of the battle, I sighed.
“Still thinking of it?” Master Kaius’ voice echoed into the improvised smithy.
“I’m much calmer now,” I said, almost calm enough to talk my heart out to my parents, though there was still one thing bugging my mind. “Master Kaius, you mentioned this cult abducts children, then…”
The elder shifted to come before me, his arm leaning on the large table. “You are worried if the ones in the alchemy shop were once the children?”
“Yes.”
“You’re lucky to have not faced them, because they wouldn’t like those halfarsed fighters. A single moment of lapse and they will make you regret it.”
I frowned.
“That is to say, none of them were the abducted, coerced to do their evil bidding.”
That offloaded a substantial weight from my chest. I breathed in deeply and got back to work. Blacksmithing was still not my strong suit, but anything I made with refined and reinforced materials would be of greater quality than anything any common blacksmith could forge. Still, swords in particular were one of the tougher weapons to make.
As I was pitting hammer on hot alloy, I remembered that Father had actually learned swordsmanship under Master Kaius. I quickly posed the question of an ideal sword to him without thinking.
“Hmm, you are thinking too hard, lad,” the elder chuckled. “Jinn is too honest a man to trouble you with something philosophical.”
I cocked my head. “Then what did he mean by forging my ideal sword?”
“Just as it sounds, the sword you want to wield.” He decided to elaborate. “The path of Essence and the path of Aura differ from one another, but both can be wielded to do the same thing.”
I agreed readily, remembering the elements Father could wield with Aura.
“Your father comes from a culture that looks down on essence swords. They practise aura, using it to nourish their blade into their ideal form. One of the reasons why they have so many Sword Masters, and also why the practise was mostly lost in the empire. Anyhow, Jinn is not so bullheaded as to not recognise the uses of essence swords. To him, as long as it can cut demons, it is good enough.”
Father is an aura master. His aura could cut through multitudes better than something like Windblade could. And he also had a good reason to not use a magic blade. I guessed Ouroborus could be called a magic sword, though it was more demonic in nature.
“What your father wants is for you to choose one of the paths.”
I hummed, looking at the flakes of flame flying from each of my strikes, the sound almost a mere echo in my mind. Essence or Aura. Both sides had their advantages and disadvantages. For now, my essence capabilities still outweighed my aura, which would also make it easier to wield a magic blade. Whereas Aura had a higher learning curve, its force could not be mistaken.
In the battle, it took applying my aura to break through the wards in a short time. Essence alone would have taken significantly longer to break through defences that were specifically created to protect against essence based attacks. I was sure I would have had a significantly worse time if any of the people had possessed skill with Aura Oscillation. Of course, the strength of raw aura played a part, but a masterful display of oscillation could not only disperse the strongest of spells, but also concentrated aura.
I had already chosen the path of Sword Forging, with some significant improvement along the way. My aura would be honed akin to a razor edge. It would be too foolish to give up the path. Yes, it was significantly difficult to get there, and even the practise meant being pushed through a thousand steps in hell, but it was so satisfyingly exhilarating to wield aura.
Essence too, though that had grown overwhelmingly easier once I advanced to Noble Class.
“Both,” I said suddenly. “Why can’t I choose both paths?”
As much as I was a swordsman, I was an artisan as well, and I liked making fine magic swords.
“Nobody said you can’t.” Master Kaius smiled. “And I pray that you live a long life to reach the pinnacle of both.”
With that, I spent all evening crafting two swords, one with a high number of runes and the other without any. On top of having no runes, I made sure not to wield a single speck of essence during its creation. The rest were half baked, especially for the aura sword. The magic sword would still yield dozens of gold leafs easily, even though it was merely a prototype, whereas for the aura sword, I just had to forge more.
Father did not seem the least bit peeved by the two swords I forged, though he did not forget to warn me about spreading myself too thin.
That was not my worry. Once I advanced to Prestigious Class, which I reckoned would not be that far, my lifespan would increase by a few more decades. Then, if I managed to reach Fabled Class, I would have all the time to master all my paths, be it aura, essence, runes, or swordsmanship.
That night, I did not spend any more time practising anything, but spent it all chatting with my parents and Master Kaius, until finally, I decided to open up about what went down at the alchemy shop.
I narrated it all in the most clear cut, stoic way possible, like I was a bystander overseeing the battle, calling out where my fault lay and where I could have done better, unprompted. My parents seemed a bit taken aback by my response.
“I know you could have gone through it a hundred different ways, Pumpkin, but how do you feel?”
I tilted my head, gazing between my parents before peeking at the older man, who nodded reassuringly. “I feel fine?” I said. “I mean, I detested the feeling, seeing their eyes turning lifeless, them cursing at me as if it was my fault alone.” I exhaled softly. “If I had to go about it again, I’ll try my best to protect the bystanders better, and capture them alive if I could.”
Mum exchanged a look with Father, then with Master Kaius.
Life was precious. Who knew it better than I, having died once. Even though the memory of it all remained as a mere echo, time and time again it still stung, the terrible, terrible feeling of everything I lost.
However, if some people took it for granted and wreaked havoc just because they could, disregarding its preciousness, then I would stand against them. So long as my conscience remained on the right path, so long as I was not hurting innocents, I would wield my blade with my utmost conviction.
***
Darkness. It came through the creeping dark, like pieces of marionettes with severed heads and limbs, blood gushing from all the cuts as they screamed, shooting towards me.
Then, I awoke in my bed, my back drenched in cold sweat.
Thankfully, Mum did not let me sleep alone that night.
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Interlude II:
Runi awoke to the sound of his own scream, relieved that it was only a nightmare.
That’s right, we escaped Father, he thought. He can’t find us anymore.
“Another nightmare,” his sister said, holding a waterskin out to him. In the dim light of the stars and the lamp, her face appeared dark and scrawny. It was still the Kala he recognised, except overwhelmingly exhausted and sunburnt.
Runi took it and swigged a mouthful without thinking, only to remember they did not have much water for the journey. He looked guiltily towards Kala, who patted his shoulder.
“There were still a couple of hours until sunrise,” she said. “Let’s make some headway now, so that we can rest when it’s scorching hot.”
Runi agreed. He stood up and strode after his sister at a brisk pace. Death Valley was as merciless as he had read about. The first couple of weeks had been the toughest, with the desolate plain riddled with cracks large enough to swallow their feet. Runi had twisted both of his ankles half a dozen times, while the searing sun had singed his skin to perhaps something edible. The worst was arguably the feeling at his throat when their water ran out and there were no pedlars for days.
Kala had carried as many waterskins as was realistically possible without making their journey difficult. Unfortunately, crossing Death Valley was not something anyone could do alone. At the beginning, they had been part of a group. Although it was still difficult then, there was strength in numbers. Then one night, Runi woke up to find there had been a falling out, where his sister had beaten the crap out of the leader of the cohort before taking off with Runi.
At that point, they had not even covered half of the desolate plain. It had been nine days since then, and they had only met a pedlar twice in that time. Unfortunately, even the pedlar with the largest cart did not have an unlimited source of water.
They were trudging through a deep ravine, and hopefully they would remain there when the sun rose, as there was enough shade in a ravine, unlike most of the desolate plain, which was mostly cracked, tough surface littered with dead trees. However, sometimes there were vicious stone monsters lurking in ravines, waiting beneath their feet. They had only come across a couple, and both times Kala had pulled him onto her back and shot off at the speed of the wind.
Thankfully, it was not the season of storms, or else there might not have even been skeletons left of them when others found the place.
Most of the time they spent traversing the deadly plain, they did not talk. Kala said talking cost energy, and they needed as much as they could to reach the other side as soon as possible. Even still, Runi was often unable to go on after only a few hours.
Whenever he faltered, Kala carried him. Whenever he felt parched, Kala fed him water. Whenever they faced danger, Kala helped him escape. Considering all that, his life did not seem to have changed much since fleeing, only that they were no longer being beaten by Father every day.
Today, Runi only got tired when the sun’s rays began to sting his skin, but he carried on. Time and time again, the trail between the siblings would stretch to ten metres, and once the distance seemed only to increase, Kala would carry Runi to move at a brisk pace.
“I thought I can walk a bit more,” Runi whispered, feeling parched, with a burning indignation running through his lungs. “After investing all the points into Fortitude.”
“Hmm.” Kala walked wordlessly.
In truth, Runi had only gained the attribute a couple of days ago, and with most of his unallocated points already spent, he could only spare five points into it. Even so, those five points had made things easier for his sister, since she did not have to carry him every couple of hours.
“Do you need water?” she asked after a while.
“Umhuh,” Runi managed, despite being thirsty beyond reason. Yet a small part of him still hoped Kala would forcefully feed him some water anyway, as she had done multiple times before. Sadly, that was not the case today.
Runi pulled his hood further down to hide his guilt, though his sister’s attention was focused on the path. The hooded cloak protected him from the blazing sun, but it was utterly hot to wear. He made sure not to complain about everything that pained him. His sister never lashed out at him like Father had, or even Mother used to, despite all his complaints.
“Hey, Kala…”
“Hmm.”
“Do you think we can drink…”
“You want water?”
“No, I read in a book that you can drink pee to survive Death Valley.”
“You want to drink pee?” Kala faltered on the path, looking at him over her shoulder.
“Not pee pee, but after filtering it. There’s a process, umm, you first…” Runi tried to explain to the best of his ability, though his knowledge on the topic was lacking.
“I know how to purify pee,” his sister said, to his surprise.
It was only then that he realised he had not seen her drink water in the last few days. Was that how she was surviving? At once, his guilt surged through his whole body, and his eyes nearly teared up.
"If only I could shape water."
“I heard shaped water is bad for our body,” Kala replied. “Only the sages know how to make real water with magic.”
If only I was a sage…
After a couple more hours, Kala finally called for a rest, before feeding him the leftovers of the water. Runi made sure not to drink it all and left her a mouthful. Then he bit through the dry ration, chewing as though wrestling with the food.
They waited for the worst of the day to pass before carrying on through the twisted ravine once more.
Kala wiped a line of sweat from her face and licked her palm to return the water into her body. Watching her, Runi imitated it exactly.
“Runi,” Kala cast a look in his direction. “I’m sorry.”
Runi faltered.
“I thought it will be easier once we ran away.”
Runi did not know what to say to that. Yes, the last few days had been difficult, even more so than when beaten black and blue by their father, but… but Runi was unsure what came after the but.
“Don’t worry, we’ll cover the valley soon enough, then I can get a job at…” She broke into a fit of coughing. “Once I get a job, everything will become good. Everything…”
She faltered, looking ahead. Runi gazed up as well, peering with bleary eyes. A small hill lay ahead, and there seemed to be a few tents at the foot of it. And were those pedlar carts? Solus blessed them, there were so many.
The siblings exchanged a look, both grinning ear to ear, and then without exchanging a word, they dashed towards the tents.
Runi yelped, twisting his ankle once again halfway along the path. Kala swiftly turned and pulled him onto her back before bolting forward with the same fervour.
There were already half a dozen people resting under a makeshift shed, created by wringing a large cover over date trees. There were even dates growing there.
Kala slowed once the people in the camp noticed them. She was about to speak when someone beneath the cover called out,
“You two look like you have been running away from Death for a while,” chuckled the voice. A middle aged man in white clothing lay comfortably beneath the shade, with two other people behind him, one young woman and a scary looking bald man. What caught Runi’s attention were the plates full of fruit before the man. “Come up, we have more than enough water and shade to spare.”
Kala’s head bobbed as she inched forward. “We’ll only take a little water.”
The man chuckled good naturedly. The others showed little response.
“Good lord, they look like they had been through a plague,” the man said, steadying the white cloth on his head. “Jiva, get them some water, and then something to eat. I cannot bear to look at them.”
The woman behind him smiled as she stood up, taking two half filled jugs to them.
“Drink,” she said, handing them over. “The first fill is always free.”
The siblings did not need any more invitation. They practically poured the water down their throats, some of it dripping from the corners of their lips, tracing a soothing path down their necks.
Runi let out a satisfying squelch, half filling his stomach with water. Only then did he feel a tear run from the corner of his eye.
“Look at them,” the man laughed. “Always a satisfying sight, isn’t it?”
“It is indeed,” the woman named Jiva acknowledged, already holding a large plate of juicy fruit. They did not look like the finest delicacies, but even that slice of papaya looked like something Runi would die for.
The angelic woman handed it to him without a smile. More tears streamed down his cheeks. Runi was not embarrassed. He picked up the slice of papaya and stuffed it into his mouth unabashedly, while Kala was far more controlled.
“Not hungry?” Jiva asked. Receiving no reply, she turned to the man in white. “Don’t you have some other gift for them, my lord?”
“Ah, Sherdin?”
The bald man rose and entered a tent, returning with a sack. By the time he came back, Runi had already finished his food, his eyes following the man’s movements. The man tossed the sack onto Kala’s lap. It felt heavy.
“I hope you like my gift.”
Kala scanned the surroundings. Though she seemed reluctant, she loosened the binding and drew out what was inside the sack.
At once, she jolted away and dropped the gift. Runi cried out.
The severed head of their father rolled onto the ground.
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I know, I know many of you don't like these interludes. Prolly should have made it shorter. Anyway, one more chapter and well be getting to the promised tournament arc. The crafting competition would be fun.