[Ashborn-B1] 72. Budding (Patreon)

LXXII

Budding

Cloaked figures dashed between the rows of stone tablets for cover.

Blades of light whirled through the air, the light so blinding it swallowed the gleams of their wicked edges. The screams pouring out of the Fallen Immortals’s throats were music to Judith’s ears. But the sonorous sound didn’t make her heart flutter.

Nothing had, the past week.

She swiped at the air. Essence thrummed inside the skull embedded on her staff like it was laughing, and her constructs pinned multiple Immortals to the floor. She avoided the vitals as much as she could. When she stepped over the crying, prone form of an Immortal, she didn’t finish them off.

Bleeding out was too much mercy already for these scum.

Around her, her clanmates continued blasting the fleeing disciples. Some rushed after them swords drawn, one of whom was Garen. A single, precise strike cleaved two Immortals in half.

Judith hummed and her heart skipped. The experience was good, she’d give them that.

She surveyed turned to surveying the chamber. Far to her left, beneath the ice, rushing waters carried off humanoid shapes into a void. The sight of the previous trial-takers had been a shock to say the least. Luckily, their party hadn’t seen many of them on the way.

Her gaze turned north, where a statue of a cloaked woman lounged in a bone seat.

Judith’s staff quivered. There was no doubt about it. This was their shrine. He would be here.

Garen bisected another Immortal. “We arrived late.”

They had.

“They failed to get a fast one over us, though,” Tirion said. Blood trailed behind his dagger as he cut the throat of a miserable rat.

This shrine was called the ‘Shrine of Kings’. It’s goal was simple: eradicate the other army before they eradicated them.

However, though the mission was clear, the path towards it was convoluted.

“We’ll send out a scouting party of our own,” Judith said. They needed to know how many Immortals they were facing. But their numbers weren’t the only threat.

“Vyke likely already entered the Tomb,” Tirion said. “We should hurry.”

Though Judith wasn’t aware of the lore behind the shrine, she did know the two entities on display were opposites of each other. One was a ruler of death and decay, the other had command over order and light. However, they were also the same in many areas.

Their patron also had a dedicated temple, for example.

Judith grabbed the badge from her storage ring and angled it in the light. Lines of gold had been meticulously engraved onto a white base. The crest was in the shape of a shield.

“We’ll enter as soon as we finish cleaning up,” Judith said.

The Immortals were more set on fleeing than fighting, so chasing them out of their territory was no big deal. Chasing and finishing them off was more difficult.

Judith had only caught a glimpse of the old, cloaked woman. That was enough to discern her identity.

‘Anetta. She’ll be a problem.’

An Everwinter local who the Immortals had recruited. She was the third strongest among their number behind Aedan and Vyke. If she was here, the other two were definitely here as well.

Judith’s lips pulled into a line. ‘Caelia…where are you?’

Days in the Tomb, especially the Shrine of Eternity, had done more than cool down her overall body temperature. She was no longer so delusional that she thought rage alone would let her kill Vyke in a one-on-one fight. However, she also refused to let the monster slip from her grasp.

‘Battling all three of them will be nigh impossible.’

Garen’s main strength was defence, not offence. It was Tirion and her which would need to do the killing. And Tirion had already lost to Vyke.

Still, it remained almost impossible. They weren’t doomed.

She studied the spectacle wearing boy, who pushed his sweaty hair from his eyes as they walked towards the base of the statue.

“Tirion,” Judith said on a whim. She searched for the words. “What…what was it like to fight him?”

He paused. His glasses gleamed, and he huffed. “That’s the third time you’ve asked me a variant of that question. My answer won’t change, I’m afraid.”

“Humour me. I don’t want to be caught off-guard.”

He sighed. “Because it’s you, Lady Vire.”

Judith stifled a grunt at the usage of her name. There was only one disciple who should be called that and it wasn’t her.

“To be honest,” Tirion said, “I didn’t think much of him before fighting him. You know how rumours can be.”

She nodded. Everyone was always some mother’s next, biggest genius—such was their world of cultivation. However, few ever made good on the promise.

Her eyelids drooped. ‘Like myself.’

“He’s everything they say he is and more,” Tirion continued. He raised a finger to count up. “Unbelievably fast. It’s like his moves are ingrained into his body. There’s almost no time between the activation of a move and its release.” He raised another digit. “Punching power. Because of the rotting property of his arts, every single one has the potential to be fatal once it lands. Its troublesome to deal with for cultivators like ourselves who lack solid defensive abilities.”

Her insides squirmed. Two aspects that were difficult for her to deal with. Raw speed was the product of one’s physical training and the arts at their disposal. Unfortunately, Judith had never been one to pay much attention to the physical side of cultivating. She’d only done the bare minimum required.

She since let go of that mentality, but results couldn’t be changed in a matter of weeks.

“He’s faster and stronger than me…” she mumbled. “That leaves only one option on how to take him down.”

Tirion inclined his head. “You’ll have to outsmart him. However, that will not be easy.”

In front of them, the base of the pillar was close enough Judith could see the hole that fit her entry token.

“Before,” she side–eyed him, “you said that was my best chance.”

“It still is. But, after thinking it through, I’m fairly certain of this:”

She swiped her hand over her ring again, fished out the token and placed it inside the cavity. A breath passed, then the base of the statue started to rotate.

“He has studied us profusely,” Tirion said.

“What makes you say that?”

“Normally, every cultivator has one or two moves they hold close to surprise their enemies.”

Indeed. It was the surest way to beat strong opponents, after all.

“I failed to surprise Vyke even once.”

Judith remained quiet as the stones whirred to a stop. Their base split and revealed a spiralling staircase.

“You think he knows all of our abilities?” she said.

“Yes. That’s why, if we want to kill him, we’ll need to hit him with something he couldn’t possibly have heard of before.”

The inner space of the temple was well-lit. Yet the staircase shone brighter. The white marble glowed as if the steps themselves wanted to prove the heavenliness of the place they were entering.

From below, the whispered hymns of a choir rode up the stairs and crawled out of the entrance.

A blood-warping shiver passed through Judith. Often, people wrongfully assumed Light and Order were facets of lawful good. That any who wielded those powers were righteous beings who would die to uphold the peace. That was a child’s fantasy. The imagination of a mortal street grunt who’d never seen a cultivator in his life.

Their administrator, Herbert, had warned them: ‘Only those willing to risk their lives should enter.’ For where there was a possibility for power, the chance of death never loomed far away.

She cast a glance at Tirion. From his expression, he was experiencing the same shiver she was.

Her face turned back. The light was so blinding black spots clouded her sight. She didn’t blink them away. Within that temporary darkness, she saw the face of a friend she held dear.

“I didn’t know any of you for long,” she remembered Ashe saying in her room back in the castle. “However, Ray was always concerned about your safety.”

Judith’s foot slammed down on the step.

‘That’s right.’ She took another step. ‘Ray wouldn’t have hesitated.’

Her next footfall came quicker than the last. Her stride was firmer than before. More grounded. Around her, the hymn rose in volume until it seemed to be playing right beside her ears.

In order to kill a behemoth like Vyke, she needed to acquire a power he’d never seen prior.

A power that was right in front of her.

Vaguely, she was aware of Tirion descending behind her. She didn’t turn to make sure he was there. Her feet devoured steps until she came upon a landing. A suit of armour wielding a claymore stood at the bottom in a similar position to the statue outside.

[Holy Blade - lvl. 60]

The identification stopped Judith in her tracks. Her staff exited her ring and entered her hands. Was it an enemy—

“Don’t let Eric scare you, Children. You’re free to come in.”

Only after the voice spoke did Judith realise the choir had stopped. She turned towards the entrance on the side. The door was wide open.

‘Be polite,’ Herbert’s words resounded in her head. ‘It is a spirit of immense power.’

Judith’s back straightened. She regulated her breathing, inclined her head in front of the guard, then strode further into the room.

What would it be like? The voice sounded like that of a man. Some kind of warrior of old? Perhaps even the man in the statue? Herbert had not told when they’d asked.

The reception room was even brighter, so her eyes needed a moment to adjust. Peering while growing teary-eyed, Judith spied a raised platform in the centre of the room. Rows of pews were arranged in front of the platform, though all of them were empty. Paintings of men and women in armour and robes donned the walls. Their stares were unkind. Their expressions hard. The ones wearing regular clothes were donned in a style that Judith didn’t recognise or could ascribe to any of the other clans.

“Beautiful, aren’t they? They’re my sons and daughters.”

A sword was embedded into the platform. A claymore wholly plain in design; there wasn’t a single engraving on it that would make one think the blade was magical. What was on it was a small, humanoid figure sitting on one side of the cross-guard. Its cheeks were round and wings protruded from its back. Hair like a lion’s mane poked around its skull, and a tail whose end was a bundle of hair wagged behind it.

Judith and Tirion made to kneel—

“No need for pleasantries. We’re already behind schedule. You may refer to me as ‘Lord Scar.’”

Judith kept from frowning. “Behind schedule, Lord Scar?”

“Yes.” His wings slapped the air dozens of times in the span of a blink, then he soared into the air.

There was a near-transparent line of essence that connected his tail to the blade’s pommel.

“Those vile disciples already entered that crone’s chamber a while ago,” Scar said. “So we should hurry, lest your allies get wiped out before you return.”

Scar came to hover in front of them. Up close, he was even smaller, about the size of Judith’s hand.

“Here’s how this will go,” he said. “The both of you will each put your hand on my pommel. I’ll scan your development and determine which rewards are a match for you. Each come with their own terms and conditions. However, do note that I will only offer you the rewards once. At the end, you can go through the special training room.” He pointed right, where a door flared to Judith’s senses “It’s entirely optional. Should you survive it, you can pick any of the rewards in my temple.”

“Does that reward also come with terms, Lord Scar?” Tirion asked.

The small spirit shook its head. “None!”

Now she did frown. If the reward for completing that ‘training room’ was that generous, it must be a serious risk.

‘I doubt I can complete it.’ She was not her niece. Neither was she a prodigy.

Scar turned and flew back to his sword. “Well then, let’s start with you!” He pointed at her.

Judith pressed down on the whirling in her stomach and followed behind the spirit.

Unlike the spirit, the blade was taller than both Judith and Tirion (despite being half buried). Judith had to stand on her toes to reach the guard and pull herself up to reach the pommel. The moment she did, a pulse travelled from her head to her feet.

“Hhmm,” Scar had his eyes closed as he sat on the crossguard. “I see. I see.” The pulse stopped near her private area. “Pure. That’s good. You also carry a strong conviction, though its yet budding.”

His gaze snapped open. “I’ve decided!” He leapt from his seat and twirled. “Follow me, young lady!”

Judith spared Tirion a glance as the spirit floated away. Would he have to wait until she was done? Her question hadn’t finished resounding in her head when, before before her very eyes, light bubbled out of the blade and formed into another Scar.

“I’ll handle your assessment, Mister! Now, place your hand on my pommel.” A mischievous grin split this version of Scar’s face.

‘Why does he keep stressing that word?’ There was his previous comment about her purity as well. This spirit, was he…

“Are you coming?”

She turned towards the other Scar, whose head was poking through the creak in the entrance.

‘Whatever.’ It didn’t matter.

In the end, she needed the power.