CHAPTER 62 - THE PYRAMID (Patreon)

The first thing Zamian did after opening his eyes was command the White Dot to show him his information.

PERSONAL INFORMATION  

Name: Zamian Greenfield   Level: 4 [48%]Tier: Mortal  Main Pathway: KnowledgeTitle: Insightful

STATS 

Body: 18080/24000Mind: 26000/26000Soul: 22000/24000

REWARDS

Ancient Astral SealDescription: A Star Seal guarding your Astral Self.

Ancient Identify Technique (Passive)Description: See the secrets beyond the limitations of time.

Nameless PhysiqueDescription: Breaker of the natural order, bearer of perpetual body, an unshackled lifeform.

QUEST LOG

Last Quest: Protect Bohlo until he completes his breakthroughReward: 01 Book from White Tower's First FloorStatus: Completed

Side Quest: Find the OasisReward: Ten-Thousand-Year Ginseng RootStatus: Ongoing (3 days left)

Main Quest: Bring destruction to a Level 8 Immortal tainted by GodhoodReward: Inheritor’s Cave EntranceStatus: Ongoing (76 days left)

Reading the stats, he raised an eyebrow.

‘This is the first time I act as a Scholar while cultivating and my stats don’t increase.’

His lips curled into a wry smile.

‘This doesn’t bode well for my future plans.’

He took a moment to focus inward, scanning his condition through the lens of the Nameless Physique. Outwardly, the wounds were sealed, and he could breathe and move without controlling his body to keep himself upright.

But checking inside made him scowl.

‘Two of my hearts are still busted... and a few of my bones are cracked.’

There was no real pain, and his body no longer leaked essence.

However, the absence of full recovery told him a very valuable piece of information.

‘If fighting Chosen takes this long to recover from, then whoever I beat should stay blighting down for a few days at least.’

His eyes gleamed.

‘And if I recover faster than them, I could fight longer—’

Another thought struck, memories of the last days coming into view.

‘Like father.’

Images of Dante crossed his mind. He imaged his father fighting, bleeding, winning battles under a night sky of the Desert or underground. Both places lacking in  Nature’s essence. 

And how until now, the man either had fought or fled longer than should be possible amidst so many fights.

‘He must have a way similar to mine. Is he acting like a Farmer?’ he thought and shook his head. ‘No, that can’t be. A farmer still needs Nature’s essence from the outside. While me, well, I’m pulling Light’s essence from inside me? The Soul Tome? Or is it from elsewhere?’

Noticing he was piling up with more questions again, and time wasn’t on his side, Zamian stood and conjured Luminous Senses, refocusing on the current moment.

The world expanded.

The air trembled in slow motion as it pressed against his awareness. Shifting rubble above, the silent grind of stone on stone, and every other sound mapped with the mental sound spheres picked by his enhanced hears. In the next room, both the breathing and blood flow could be heard, along with a sneeze. The hum of light footsteps pacing, and a person, likely Kurt, arranging some items. 

Then, there was the essence, multicolored waves appearing in front of him, even through the wall.

‘In the Deep Ground, I couldn’t see cultivators like this.’

He squinted his eyes as he saw brown waves, strong like his white ones, probably coming out from Velma and green waves that should be from Marlos.

There were also a few others who were weaker, signaling the presence of other people. Of course, with his hearing, this much was obvious.

Zamian stepped out and walked toward the group.

They had gathered near the entrance of the squarish ruin. Tulip was the first to notice him, eyes narrowing as she stood up and brushed dirt from her trousers.

“You look better,” she said, her hand twitching slightly. “As pale as usual.”

“Glad to hear it,” Zamian replied. “You’re holding up?”

“Barely. But yeah.”

They shared a look. Then, she stepped closer, her fingers brushing his. 

Zamian pulled her hand, holding it up with interlaced fingers.

“You took too long,” she whispered, too low for anyone else to hear.

“I came back, didn’t I?”

That earned him a scoff, but her fingers curled around his for a second, a small squeeze of confirmation before she turned away.

Behind her, Kurt stretched, yawning, his satchel swinging with the motion. “Great Sir is back on his feet. We can move again.”

Bohlo sat with his back to a pillar, watching Soho breathe, and glanced at Zamian after Kurt spoke. The usually cheerful man was masked with concern. “Hey Z… Good to see you back. No worries, no one went there…”

Zamian crouched beside the old man, seeing as from among everyone present, the waves of essence were slower and lesser on him.

“We need to make him eat or drink, right?”

No one answered, Bohlo’s bitter smile being the only silent indication that they knew it, but didn’t know what to do.

Marlos leaned against a crumbled archway nearby, arms crossed, halberd resting beside him. “The Oasis might help. They don’t have Clerics like in the Sanctuary, but well, ohohoho, we fought a lot to not have people specialized in taking care of our own.”

“Then we keep going,” Bohlo said, standing slowly, staring at Zamian. “Please.

No one asked questions as Zamian simply nodded, and while Velma didn’t glance in his direction, he knew she was paying attention to the conversation.

They packed in silence, and in a few minutes, with the wounded being carried, they moved.

The path narrowed and twisted, and most of the trip was accompanied by silence and darkness. Zamian, carrying Joshua, who was in silence, stood in the middle of Tulip and Bohlo while Kurt was in front of them, carrying the other two outsiders.

During their travel, they crossed a fallen corridor suspended above a black abyss. Buildings hung sideways from the stone walls like shattered teeth, some of them had once been massive towers made from grey, veined material that hummed when touched. Zamian, and maybe Velma and Marlos, were the only ones that could notice how far away the abyss went, their enhanced senses and techniques unable to reach the floor.

About the buildings and origin of the ruins, no one knew what they were, just that they could be the remnants of a city from ancient times.

Half a day later, they rested in the bent frame of what might once have been a bridge, collapsed into the rock, a few wanting to drink and eat. Kurt prepared the food. 

A moment after they had stopped, Peter stirred. His eyes fluttered open, blinking against the dim light for the everdurable light source.

“Don’t move,” Zamian said without looking. “Your ribs are still caved in.”

Peter winced. “Feels like I got trampled by a Warlord.”

“Worse. You picked a fight with me.”

Paul groaned somewhere nearby, coughing. Kurt handed them both water with the care of someone who didn’t want to be thanked.

“Where are we?” Paul asked, voice hoarse.

Tulip leaned back against a crumbling pillar. “Heading to the Oasis.”

“Yeah, sure,” Peter mumbled.

“Great Sir was merciful and let you live,” Kurt answered. “You should be thankful.”

Peter blinked, confused. “But taking us there… Are you people insane?”

“A few of us must be,” Bohlo added, shooting a glance at Zamian. “But no one here is as crazy as you, who is talking so much in front of the people you tried to kill.”

“Good point, monkey,” Kurt muttered. “Maybe Great Sir wants to torture them because the one who died tried to touch Lady Tulip.”

Zamian arched an eyebrow at Kurt, confused.

“What?” the bearded outsider chuckled. “I need to respect the Madam.”

After more chit-chat, Peter, Paul, and Joshua recognized Velma, and seeing how even she didn’t dare to speak, they all stood silent, quietly eating and tending their wounds.

The second day, after a few of them had slept, they passed through a hollow plaza, an open circular platform buried in collapsed stone, ringed with statues that were too eroded to identify. Some had wings, while others carried long sticks or curved blades.

Zamian observed all that, how some ruins seemed more destroyed than others, and how older places seem to preserve their features longer than the less ancient ones.

Sometimes, along their tralves, carved across the floor, half-buried in rubble, were letters. Dozens of them, from some forgotten tongue. Zamian didn’t recognize the script, but it made something in his mind stir. The others passed without noticing.

Hours later, when most were tired and only one day remained before Zamian lost his Side Quest reward, they reached another resting place. This one was a hall swallowed by sand and rock, where the walls were carved with unknown figures and drawings.

“Get used to that, little ones,” Marlos said, noticing the curiosity from Bohlo, Tulip, and Zamian. “They are very common here.”

Tulip sat beside Zamian, arms brushing once, then again. She didn’t speak, but her silence wasn’t cold. When he leaned toward her, she didn’t move away.

“I wish to talk to you, but there are too many people here,” she whispered, nodding at his side.

“We will have time.”

“You seem colder than before.”

He gave her a half-smile. “Worried about the future, sorry. I didn’t mean to sound too distant.”

Her answer was to press a kiss to his cheek, and when she leaned back, she was smiling.

“I’ll still make you a man,” she whispered, winking, her blue eyes shining brightly.

“Later,” he said, chuckling, his mind elsewhere.

Then, after a rest, they gathered and walked again.

The air thickened, growing warmer with every step, and the walls glistened with condensation. The tunnel dipped, then widened, then narrowed again. 

Velma walked ahead, her hammer strapped to her back, her Earth’s essence pulsing with every step. Marlos stayed beside her, casual. The rest followed behind, single file, with Zamian at the rear, the Luminous Senses active the entire way.

He saw it way before anyone else could notice.

He saw the waves, then he listened to the sounds. They were too much, too many. Brown waves were everywhere, followed by laughter, the distant sound of metal on stone, and even music. 

Minutes later, the others also heard it, but in lower and muffled tones. 

Most importantly, a great heat washed over them as they stepped on an opening.

Below, stretched a vast cavern, larger than the Sanctuary.

A city carved into the bones of the earth lay in there, the Oasis. Homes and towers were stacked layer upon layer, connected by bridges of stone and chain. The walls glowed with flowing rivers of lava, directed through crystalline veins that pulsed with red light. Market stalls sprawled beneath hanging banners. Smoke coiled from chimneys as thousands of people walked, bartered, and shouted.

No one welcomed them or blocked their path. Even if they were in war, no one in the Oasis expected people from the Sanctuary to arrive here. 

After all, why leave the bright paradise to enter the dark abyss?

Zamian and the others also heard wind instruments played from somewhere deep inside, their strange rhythm rising above the crowd. Bohlo and Tulip were astonished by the size of the city, while Marlos, Velma, and the outsiders stood boringly there.

Meanwhile, Zamian was also surprised.

His eyes widened, his senses going into overdrive.

It wasn’t the city that surprised him. He couldn’t care less about its size, having already entered Lin Zhi’s crystal and seen a truly enormous town.

What caught his attention was the yellow giant pyramid in the center of the Oasis, its apex piercing the ceiling, where a stream of molten light glowed.

From that pyramid, Zamian saw gray waves clashing against the dark and red tones from the Oasis.

‘There’s a cultivator in there,’ he thought, his eyes narrowing. ‘And he is stronger than a Chosen or a Warlord.’

Then, white lines appeared in front of him.

Side Quest: Find the OasisReward: Ten-Thousand-Year Ginseng RootStatus: Completed