Blue and the Faerie

[rvm45]

Blue and the Faerie



Chapter One




Blue and his liar…er, lawyer, sat on one side of the polished walnut conference table. Old man Schmidt, two lawyers and his three brutish sons sat on the other side of the table.

Dwayne, the oldest son, had a patch over one eye. Jacob had the first two fingers of his left hand missing.

Blue had been smart enough, even back then, to know that fingers could often be sewn back on, so he’d made a point to swallow them after he’d bitten them off.

“It is a shame that I couldn’t have gouged out both your eyes,” Blue told Dwayne.

Dwayne was a 320-pound strongman type. His face turned red and he started to rise.

“That’s okay. I’ll take you on one at a time, or all together,” Blue said.

He had zero chance against the three brutish brothers and the four bodyguards standing at attention behind each of the principles. That was precisely the point.

Avoiding battles that you couldn’t win was cowardice.

Descartes had said: “I am, therefore I do.” Sartre had countered with: “I do, therefore I am.”

Blue’s motto was more like:

“I hate, therefore I am.”

“Please! Let’s not get into personalities,” one of Old Man Schmidt’s liars said.

“We are here today to offer one Blue Connor, a red fire seed worth $365 000. In exchange, Mister Connor will drop all claim against the Faerie known as ‘Clara’ and will relinquish all claim to the Schmidt Manufactory,” the liar said.

“That is the ‘Connor Manufactory.’ Just because y’all stole it, doesn’t give y’all the right to change its name! Make that mistake again, and you can believe that I will reach across this table and crush your esophagus,” Blue told the lawyer.

“You’d die in the next instant,” the lawyer warned.

“Dyin’ ain’t shit!” Blue spat back.

“My father’s factory is easily worth fifty-times that much and Clara is worth more than five times my father’s business,” Blue added.

Blue’s liar called him to one side.

“He has all of the judges bribed. He is the faerie’s master. He is only throwing you this sop, to close all loopholes. At least this way you’ll get something,” the lawyer counselled.

“I will sign the paper, but let me say straight up: with a fire mage’s ability, I will be able to roam the untracked wilderness and gain power. One day, I’ll return to wipe out your whole damned family,” Blue said.

He regarded the four bodyguards dourly.

“When I do, I’ll make no effort to spare y’all,” he said to the bodyguards.

“Just doing a job,” Didn’t make the liars and the bodyguards less culpable. It made them more blameworthy than the principles, in Blue’s eyes.

Once the contract was signed, Old Man Schmidt summoned Clara.

Clara was about 3-inches tall—about the same size as the little green army men that Blue had played with as a boy. She had a pair of transparent wings that somewhat resembled a dragonfly’s wings on her back, except there was only one pair of wings.

“Take him to the mystic space and get him a lowest quality red fire seed. Don’t give him any more than he is entitled to,” Old Man Schmidt warned the little faerie.

In order to master an element, it was necessary to have a “spirit root” for that element. “Root” was a poor analogy, since the thing was spiritual and not even vaguely root-like.

Blue had no spirit roots whatsoever.

However, there was something exceedingly rare and precious in the world: spirit seeds. Spirit seeds were material objects and if they were absorbed into the body, they would germinate and form a spirit root.

Even with a spirit seed, everyone wasn’t receptive to every element. But Blue had been tested, and he could definitely assimilate a fire seed.

Clara pulled Blue through a portal and into a mystical space. Old Man Schmidt’s treasures were safe here. No one but Clara could access the space and Clara was blood-bound to Old Man Schmidt.

“Blue, I’m sorry. I know that I should be yours, but they tortured me and used other means of persuasion. Eventually, I couldn’t resist anymore,” Clara said.

Blue had been playing behind Old Man Schmidt’s property, when he’d found Clara in some blackberry briars. The briars weren’t on Old Man Schmidt’s property. Even if they had been, mystic treasures belonged to whoever found them.

However, Old Man Schmidt and his three hulking sons had beaten the 13-year old Blue and snatched the faerie from him before he could bind with her.

Over the next four years, Old Man Schmidt had used the power of Clara to become a local tycoon.

Blue’s father had died a couple of years after Blue lost the faerie. Blue had his suspicions about his father’s death.

Old Man Schmidt had been a minor shareholder with a 21% interest in Blue’s father’s factory. He’d had himself appointed executor and had gotten the factory in debt to him—on paper—and then foreclosed.

It was all very blatant and obvious, but Old Man Schmidt was very rich and powerful by then—and he was a faerie holder. The laws bent to accommodate the rich and powerful.

“It’s not your fault. A man who cannot even whip four other men, is a bit of a wimp. If I wasn’t such a wimp, Old Man Schmidt and his bastards wouldn’t have been able to beat me down,” Blue said philosophically.

“You were only 13,” Clara consoled.

“Blue, I hate to do this, but I need to ask a favor. Faeries lose their baby teeth much like a puppy. Unlike a puppy, our permanent teeth don’t start to grow in, until the last baby tooth is lost. I have one tooth left and it needs to be pulled out,” Clara said.

She opened her mouth to show Blue.

“It hurts a great deal, but I wouldn’t ask that old pervert to help me do anything. I’d sooner suffer and die. Can you pull my tooth for me?” Clara asked.

She produced a pair of binocular loupes and a robust set of forceps that resembled a tiny pair of bent-nose needle-nose pliers.

Blue nodded in agreement.

After a moment of groping, he got a firm grip on the tooth and pulled it out. Strangely, in view of Clara’s humanoid shape, the tooth looked more like a puppy’s premolar.

“Thank you, Blue! Keep that tooth. It is valuable!” Clara said.

Clara spit blood. Then she spit more blood. In a relatively short while, Clara had spit out a volume of blood that was about three-times the volume of her tiny body. Since she was a mystical creature, such things were within the realm of the possible for her.

“Blue, something is wrong. I need blood or I will die. Can you spare me a little?” Clara pleaded.

Blue thought momentarily, about letting Clara die, to spite Old Man Schmidt, but he had no animosity toward Clara.

Blue nodded his assent. Clara immediately produced a curved dagger made to her scale. She made a deep half-inch long gash on Blue’s right middle finger and popped it into her mouth.

Her tiny mouth shouldn’t have been able to swallow the tip of Blue’s finger, but her mouth expanded.

After a moment, Blue realized that he was losing blood at a vertiginous velocity. He opened his mouth to protest and then he abruptly lost consciousness.

Blue woke an indeterminate amount of time later.

He saw a new, larger and improved Clara before him.

The old Clara was about 3-inches tall. The new Clara was about 10-inches tall and she had two pairs of dragonfly wings on her back. Also, she looked more like a tiny little woman now, whereas before, she looked like a tiny little 12-year old girl.

“I used your blood to evolve, Blue. Under certain circumstances, when faeries evolve, they can break their blood binding and find a new partner. That’s why I spat up so much blood. I was cleansing all traces of Old Man Schmidt’s influence over me,” Clara said.

“I am still bound by the old reprobate’s last command though. He said not to give you any more than you are entitled to—so I can’t transfer everything in this space to you willy-nilly. Nonetheless, I have a good idea what you deserve,” Clara said.

First Clara handed Blue a body cultivating pill.

“Hmmm…You have managed to train to body cultivation Level-1 all on your own. This will replace your blood loss and it will raise your body cultivation to Level-2,” Clara said.

Body cultivators rated their strength in terms of very strict bench presses and full-squats—squats done until one couldn’t go any lower due to the buttocks contacting the calves.

Blue’s stats were 315-pounds for one in the bench press and 405 for 20 in the full-squat.

As the pill dissolved in his body, a heads-up display could be seen in Blue’s mind’s eye.

According to the screen, he could now bench press 365-pounds for 5-repetitions and he could squat 505-pounds for 30-repetitions.

He nodded in approval. With fire attribute, he wouldn’t have to scuffle so much, but more was always more better.

“I think, that given the value of your father’s factory, that you are entitled to more than just a bottom of the line fire seed,” Clara said.

She put special emphasis on the word “entitled.’

“This is the best fire seed in the place. Its value is estimated to be about $6.7 million. It is a three-headed fire seed featuring orange, yellow and green fire. There is also a nascent white-fire head,” Clara said.

Fire came in various colors and the exact qualities of the fire varied.

There was red fire, orange fire, yellow fire, green fire, blue fire and white fire. White fire was the hottest and fiercest fire, but white fire was a hybrid product when one had at least three colors of fire.

Red was hot and good for fighting. Blue was marginally hotter and better than red for fighting. Green fire was one of the best for doing alchemy. Some of the green fire’s mystic energy would enervate the drugs created. Green fire could also be used to nourish the fire mage’s body, to make it physically stronger.

The uses of yellow fire were subtle. It could also be used for fighting, though it wasn’t quite in the same league as red fire. Orange was the equal of red fire for fighting, but it excelled at forging and heat-treating weapons.

A nascent bud might take 30 or 40-years to fully develop, but then again, mages lived a long time.

“Don’t forget to assimilate the red Fire seed. It is inferior, but it will give you red Fire, while strengthening and speeding up the formation of your white Fire,” Clara said.

Then Clara handed Blue something that looked like a bright violet onion or tulip bulb. It was a bit smaller than a golf ball.

Blue sat cross-legged. He chewed the tough, fibrous and all but tasteless bulb and then washed it down with several large swallows of water.

He sat and meditated while the spirit seed took root in his consciousness. After an indeterminate period of time, Blue sensed that the integration was complete.

At the moment, he only comprehended one method to use his fire attribute—the fireball.

The basic techniques seemed to be innate. There were more complicated uses of attributes that required skill books. Blue hadn’t possessed the fire attribute long enough to have opened any innate ability except the fireball though.

Blue looked at the inner scoreboard that he now seemed to possess.

Fire Attribute—Level-3

“Since you absorbed a three-headed fire seed, you went straight to Level-3. You haven’t fully integrated the red Fire seed or filled your fire chi pool yet, so your fireballs won’t be quite up to your full-power. Try it out on the practice backstop,” Clara explained.

Blue faced the blank wall inside the mystic space. After a moment of fumbling hesitation, he launched a volleyball sized red fireball at the wall with his right hand.

“As your power level goes up, the fireballs will actually get smaller, but much more intense,” Clara remarked.

Blue launched one fireball after another, till he had launched five fireballs. He found that his fire chi was exhausted.

“You will probably have to advance to Level-4 before you get any more fireballs. You can increase the power of the fireballs in the interim though. Fully integrating the red Fire seed should nudge you up to Level-4,” Clara said.

As a pistolero, Blue likened his fireballs to a .454 Casul—a five-shot revolver noticeably more powerful that the .44 Magnum.

Of course, the .44 Magnum would always be “The World’s Most Powerful Handgun Cartridge.” That was a title awarded to the .44 Magnum—forever and in perpetuity—before the .454 was ever a commercial cartridge.

In point of fact, one of his new fireballs was far more destructive than the .454 Casul. His reload time was considerably longer than with a single action revolver though.

“Fire chi is pretty much fire chi. It is up to your body to differentiate it. That isn’t 100% true though. You should have some residual dregs of yellow. orange and green fire chi. Try to harness them for fireballs,” Clara urged.

After a moment of groping feebly, since he was new to the process, Blue scrapped enough yellow fire chi together to throw two yellow fireballs at the wall.

The yellow fireball was both a bit smaller and noticeably cooler than the red fireball.

If his five red fireballs were equivalent to a five-shot .454 Casul, then his yellow fireballs were like a two-shot .357 Magnum. That was only by way of analogy though. Even the yellow fireballs had the .454 beat in terms of killing power.

Finally, he dredged enough green fire together to throw a single green fireball.

The green fireball wasn’t even analogous to a .38 Special. It was more like a single-shot .38 Smith and Wesson. In real world terms, it was a bit more powerful than the .41 Magnum, but a bit behind the .44.

“I sincerely think that you’re entitled to a bit more compensation,” Clara said playfully.

She handed Blue another bulb.

“That is the most valuable seed in the mystic space. It is a two-headed ice seed. Ice isn’t differentiated like fire. Ice is ice—but two heads will make you stronger. It is an especially large seed as well,” Clara enthused.

Blue sat and absorbed the ice seed. Unlike the fire seed, which had very little taste, the ice seed seemed to taste of mint, cinnamon and menthol.

When Blue was done, he checked his inner scorecard.

Fire—Level 3
Ice—Level-3
Body Cultivation—Level-2

He was a bit surprised. Since a three-headed fire seed got him to Level-3, he figured that a two-headed ice seed would only take him to Level-2. Clara had said that the seed was exceptionally robust for a spirit seed though.

Blue half expected that he would now have an ice ball. Instead, he felt that he had a technique known as ice-spear at his disposal. The ice spear resembled a 7-foot long, cone shaped icicle that tapered from about 5-inches at the base to a needle-point at the tip.

When he threw a spear, it travelled too fast for mortal eyes to see. He found that ice-spear was far more powerful than his red fireball, but he could only throw two of them.

It was like having a powerful double-barreled Howdah pistol with a 13-inch barrel, chambered for .500 S&W Magnum.

“There is only one more spirit seed that you can assimilate in the mystic space at this time,” Clara said.

She handed him a bulb with so many heads that it looked like a garlic bundle.

“That is a wood seed. It has seven fully formed heads and several partials,” Clara said.

“What is wood attribute good for?” Blue asked.

“Wood is used in alchemy—both to understand subtle organic reactions and to influence them. Wood is good for healing—slower, but more thorough than water-based healing…”

Clara paused to martial her thoughts.

“Wood attribute will give you a very green thumb as a gardener. It will guide you to valuable herbs and other alchemy materials in the forest and it will give you a sort of empathy for what happens all around you, when you’re in the forest,” Clara said while gesturing vaguely.

Of all of the attribute seeds, only wood seeds were fairly common. Almost any EMT or other first responder, would be given a wood seed as a sign-on bonus.

Nurses who worked in the ER, RNs minding a floor and physical therapists would all commonly have Level-3 Wood attribute.

It got much harder to promote Wood attribute after Level-3 and as with everything, the law of diminishing returns set in. It wasn’t terribly uncommon to find a nurse or physical therapist who had nurtured their Wood attribute to Level-4 or Level-5, but that was the exception to the rule.

Contrary-wise, having Level-4 or Level-5 Wood attribute wouldn’t give a job-seeker a big advantage, all else being equal, over someone with Wood attribute at Level-3.

Doctors, especially surgeons, used Light or Water attributes as their main healing tool—in addition to their mundane skills, of course. Water or light was fast compared to Wood.

Wood’s hypothetical deeper healing would be without meaning if the patient bled out on the operating table.

Some also had Blood attribute, but Blood attribute wasn’t ambitious. It rarely climbed above Level-3 and it took a very skilled user to extend the Blood domain into someone else’s body far enough to work either good or ill.

Be all that as it may. Some of the very best surgeons had Wood at Level-5. Level-6 or even Level-7 in addition to a masterful command of Light and/or Water attribute. Some even combined Level-7 Wood with Level-4 Blood attribute.

You wouldn’t encounter one of those paragons of healing unless you went somewhere like John’s Hopkins, the Mayo Clinic or the IU-PUI Hospital—and only the hyper-rich could afford such exclusive treatment.

At any rate, the multi-headed garlic bulb Wood seed was sufficient to boost Blue’s Wood attribute to Level-6—though Wood had almost no offensive power.

There were also seeds for Lightning, Wind, Water, Light and Earth in the pocket dimension.

Clara was limited, to some degree, by the command:

“Don’t give him any more than he is entitled to.”

Clara was bound to Blue now, but she was bound to Old Man Schmidt when he gave the command. She had rationalized her way to giving Blue a few million dollars’ worth of spirit seeds, thinking that in all, fairness, he was entitled to that much.

If she had Blue assimilate another top-quality seed or two, it might exceed the limit of what was indeed “Fair.”

She was willing to push things to the limit, but more importantly, Blue had very little affinity for any of the remaining seeds.

Water was very closely affiliated with Ice, yet for some reason, Blue’s body responded to Ice, but not Water. Given a year or two, to fully assimilate the Ice seed, Blue’s inner world might have changed enough to allow a Water seed to take root—but that time wasn’t yet.

[NCWEBNUT]

Oh I've missed these stories, Glad to see another one from you rvm45

[rvm45]

Chapter Two
3172


“There are a few other seeds, but your body isn’t open to them,” Clara said.

“There are some skill books, mind abilities and some weapons,” Clara said.

“What are mind abilities?” Blue asked.

“The chi for the elemental skills that mages use, is stored in the upper dantian—a couple of inches behind your sternum. Old tyme cultivators used to make extensive use of the lower dantian, but that leaves you too vulnerable,” Clara explained.

“When you store your power and your ability in the upper dantian, it is a bit slower and harder to advance the first few levels—but with the seat of your power that close to your heart, lungs and breastbone—no one can cripple your cultivation and take away your abilities without killing you in the process,” she continued.

“At any rate, there is another potential center of power in your head, an inch or so behind your glabella. It is sometimes called ‘The Niwan Palace’.” Clara said.

“Unlike attribute cultivation. Anyone can practice mind power. Unfortunately. Mind power is weak compared to chi-based techniques. Also, practicing mind powers involves a bit of pain.”

“That is with human beings. Other races have different potential levels of powers through the Niwan Palace. Faeries depend almost entirely on powers originating in the Niwan Palace—and very few human cultivators are at the same general power level as an average adult faerie,” Clara said.

“Humans can manifest mind powers in three ways, as a general rule: Telepathy, Telekinesis and Pyrokinesis.”

“You know what Telepathy is. A human who can lift a 5-pound weight with the power of Telekinesis is a very strong-minded human. You can tolchock someone an ungodly powerful blow to the noggin with a 5-pound ball of iron, but you have to take them by surprise. Otherwise, it is slow-moving and easy to dodge,” she said.

“Most Tekes use three throwing knives that orbit the head like a gigantic electron cloud. The knives defend and wait for an opportunity to strike,” Clara said.

“Peke is an almost transparent sheet or ball of mental fire-like energy.”

“Tepe is good for a warning or to let you have some idea what others are thinking. It really isn’t within the realm of the conceivable for a human to exert mind control over another—not for more than a second or so. Still, a swordsman who pauses for a second in combat is pretty much a dead swordsman.”

“Any swordsman above Level 3 and any mage above Level-2, will be very hard to catch unaware with a Tepe attack.”

“The physical attacks made with Teke are real, but they are low-level attacks—something on the order of Level-3 or at most a Level-4 martial art attack—and the Teke energy has little stamina in battle,” Clara said.

“Peke attacks—in human terms—are the weakest, but the most likely to be usable as a last-ditch equalizer—especially against a Fire mage. Fire mages aren’t exactly fireproof—at least not until they advance to Beta Realm—but they are highly fire resistant. Hit a Fire mage with a Peke blast—and you won’t do much actual damage. He will be absolutely astonished to feel intense pain from an apparent flame though…:

“He may be discombobulated just long enough, that even a fellow mage may be able to shank him—if the fellow mage is a dirty, ruthless type fighter—and quick to act,” Clara said.

“Wait…you want to acquire mental powers? I just did all of that explaining to convince you how utterly useless mental powers are to a human!” Clara complained.

“Outside of the fact that they are painful to acquire do mental powers have any other drawbacks?” Blue asked.

“No, but I don’t want to see you suffer,” Clara complained.

“Pain can be without purpose. Indeed, it can contribute to the deterioration and even the downfall of one’s moral character. Sometimes though, it is most instructive,” Blue said.

“Anyway, what causes learning mental powers to be such a painful process?” Blur asked.

“If one cultivates chi and studies mental powers at the same time, the mental powers aren’t quite pure and they won’t crystalize. Since chi-based powers are far more powerful than mental powers, you would need an almost total inability to utilize chi. Why else would anyone forgo chi cultivation?” Clara said

“While it is possible, it is highly unlikely, that the nascent warrior, even though he will never be able to develop a useful level of power, will be willing to spend many years of diligent effort mastering what amounts to a very weak and inferior system,” Clara said.

“Why do people do it?” Blue asked.

“Some find the process satisfying. The exercises will add a few decades to one’s youth and to one’s lifespan. The Tepe and the Teke are both useful to gamblers, psychological counselors and animal trainers Some painters and sculptors also recommend the meditation process highly,” Clara said.

“Anyway, we have the crystalized mental power of a gifted mental power practitioner. He was a gifted mental practitioner. He was a triple threat—having equally strong potential in Tepe, Teke and Peke,” she added.

“He practiced for over 100-years—and he very rarely missed a day of practice. Toward the end, he didn’t want to see his power dissipated and wasted, so he arranged for his power to be crystalized and harvested shortly after his death,” Clara said.

“Although the power that he left is not particularly earth-shaking or even versatile—it is exceedingly rare. Most folks who would have bid on it at auction, would place the crystals under glass to be admired,” Clara explained.

“What was his name? What is known about him?” Blue asked.

“Almost nothing is known about the mentalist. He lived almost 2000-years ago. The crystals that he left have a very long and detailed providence—but it begins perhaps 150-years or so, after he died. And tonight, after almost 2000-years, the providence will come to an end,” Clara said.

All at once, Blue felt sad.

“Should I leave them then—leave them for future generation to admire and feel pride of ownership?” Blue asked.

“Nah, a man who could cultivate his mental powers that diligently, for that many years—he meant for someone to use his power,” Clara said.

“But his mental powers were everything to him. Mental powers will never be anything but a sideshow for me,” Blue said.

“I’m sure that he wouldn’t mind,” Clara said.

“Can you use the crystals, Clara?” Blue asked.

“You would give the crystals to me!?! No, the energy isn’t compatible with a faerie’s power, but that is a honking big gesture. Now, prepare yourself. There is no way that you can screw the process up. Once you start, there is no way to abort the process either,” Clara said.

“The pain that you’re about to feel is illusory. I mean the pain is real enough, but it is just a growing pain. It isn’t associated with any pathological changes to your physiology,” Clara said.

“Your Niwan Palace is going to grow from almost nothing, to the size that it could grow to with about 90-years’ worth of meditation—all in well less than an hour. The stretching hurts,” she said.

“You said that the man cultivated his mental powers for over a century,” Blue objected.

“107-years, to be precise. There will be a bit of waste during the absorption. You’re unlikely to get quite 100-years’ worth, though it could happen. Prepare yourself,” Clara said.

[texican]

rvm,

Another great start.

Did note that Chapter 1 did not list the word count.
Will "Blue and the Faerie" be another 200,000 plus word story? Hopefully.

Texican...,

[rvm45]

Word count will depend on how we'll the story flows.

[rvm45]

Chapter Three
4494


Blue absorbed the mind power crystals without much pain or other drama—leaving him feeling a bit silly. He thought that it would hurt like having a red-hot fire-poker shoved up his rectum. It wasn’t even as uncomfortable as having his teeth cleaned.

That was okay. Blue had no great fondness for pain. He was puzzled though.

“I don’t know what to tell you. Perhaps, you have a very great potential to use psychic powers. If that is the reason that it was so easy, then your Niwan Palace is already at least half the capacity of your upper dantian—and it can grow a great deal with training,” Clara said.

“We will have to see how your mind power grows with time. If it is like I think it is though, you might come to possess enough mind-power someday, to rival a top-ranked faerie,” Clara said.

“Like you?” Blue said.

“I am a very common sort of faerie. Faeries have extraordinarily long life-spans and I am but an infant. Also, I gave up some of my future potential in order to bind myself to you,”” Clara said.

“Clara!” Blue blurted out in real pain.

“Why would you sacrifice your future potential on my account? Never do that again! I would rather die than live out my life knowing that I sold my tomorrow to buy a little more of today,” Blue said.

‘“Half-a-loaf’ is not better than none. Half-loaves are ugly, deformed and they look amputated. A half-loaf is nothing but a spur to send you into endless brooding about what was lost. Better to end things without regret,” Blue philosophized.

Of course, if you were actually talking about loaves of bread, then the aversion to half-loaves would be neurotic and it would keep one from ever eating half now and saving half for later…

“I like you. Besides, if you become really powerful in cultivation, I can more than recover my losses. If you become a very powerful mind cultivator—well, the potential for me to grow, from your nurturing is mind-boggling,” Clara said.

“EE…Clara, I’m flattered—but look at the difference in our sizes. It cannot work between us,” Blue said.

“Stupid, I will continue to grow—though it will take several human lifetimes to attain my full growth. There are other ways to ‘like’ someone. I am not jealous and I won’t expect you to wait for me and do without female companionship while I am still the size of an insect. Can I watch though?”

‘Ay, las hadas son muy pervertidas!’ Blue thought—but did not say.

He owed Clara too much. If he ever found a partner, Clara was not going to play voyeur. However, since he had no plan to hook up and was highly unlikely to hook up, there was no compelling reason reason to dash the little pervert’s hopes.

There was also plenty of top-rate equipment in the pocket dimension. It was a great place to keep surplus valuables, since the space was almost limitless and there was no way that anyone could force their way in to steal any of Schmidt’s ill-gotten gains.

Pistols and rifles were of limited use against the new souped-up spirit beasts—or anyone but the mundane and the lowest-ranked warriors and mages. Still, a man was naked with out a good quality pistol or two on his belt.

Blue’s pistol of choice was a Smith & Wesson Model 25 .45 ACP revolver. He had ivory grips and a 6-inch barrel.

He found a Smith & Wesson Model 27 .357 Magnum. He was nickeled. He had a 6-inch barrel and ivory grips. He was much like the .45’s little brother. The guns were identical except for caliber.

He found a toolroom copy of a Ruger Super Blackhawk .44 Magnum. The gun was just slightly larger and stronger than the already big and stout Super Blackhawk. It had an 8-and-three-eighths-inch barrel as opposed to the Ruger’s 7-and-a-half-inch barrel.


God and Elmer Keith had designed the .44 Magnum to shoot a hard cast 245-grain bullet at about 1200-foot-per-second. People had hot-rodded overloaded cartridges weighing 330 to 350-grains and then loaded them as fast—in some cases considerably faster—than the old 245-grain loads.

The Smith & Wessons—good enough for what they were designed for—were frankly inadequate for these idiot-fringe loads. The Ruger design was more tolerant of gross overloads—but according to this gun’s providence, it had been purpose designed to have a larger safety margin.

Blue shook his head in sad bewilderment. The .44 Magnum was, and always would be “The Most Powerful Handgun Cartridge on Earth.”

However, in the years since the title for the world’s most powerful handgun cartridge had been awarded, forever and in perpetuity, to the .44 Magnum, several more powerful cartridges had been developed.

There was the .454 Casul; the .45 Limbaugh, the .475 Limbaugh, the .500 Limbaugh and the .500 S&W Magnum to name a few.

If the .44 Magnum (or the .357 Magnum, for that matter) wasn’t enough gun to get the job done—by all means, buy a bigger gun. It was chickenshit to overload the poor gun and take a chance of blowing him to bits, for no intelligible reason whatsoever.

At any rate, the stout toolroom sample was Blue’s now. He should last a long, long time with the Keith type loads that Blue intended to use in him.

Blue made merry in the Schmidt armory. He picked two-dozen hideouts in .22; .25; .32 and .38—both the .38 Special and .38 Smith &Wesson.

He grabbed Bowies, Balisongs, Buck Lockbacks, Switchblades and Push-Daggers. He picked brass knuckles, nunchaku and various manriki-gusari. Of course, he laid in several sets of throwing knives to practice his Telekinesis with.

He added several top-quality swords, a 90-pound takedown Bear recurve bow, several score arrows, a take-down.357 Marlin Lever Action Rifle. A take-down Marlin in .22 LR and one in .30-30.

Blue had a bolt action Scout Rifle in .308. He had a heavy .308 Sniper Rifle with an 18x scope and another in .338 Winchester Magnum.

He added cooking utensils, woodworking tools, cast iron cookware, several wool blankets and an abundance of clothing.

Clara found a ring with a built-in pocket dimension. The space was about 59-inches on a side, for just a bit more than 4-cubic yards. Blue could call things into the ring or call them out again with simple thought.

The little faerie was very unhappy. Spatial rings became increasingly expensive as their internal volume went up. There should have been a couple of rings in stock, with over twice the volume of the one that Blue had—but they had been bought and taken out of storage since the last time that Clara had gone through the inventory.

It might take years to find another ring with almost 10-cubic yards of storage—and when they did, Blue wouldn’t be enjoying the special five-finger discount that he was today. The price of the rings wasn’t cheap and the price climbed rapidly with increases in volume.

Some frantic searching came up with a ring that had a cube 26-inches on a side. Blue did some number crunching and determined that was about 37% of a cubic yard, Still, one could pack quite a bit of usable gear and victuals in a cube 26-inches on a side.

Since no rule prevented Blue from carrying more than one ring. He placed the ring on another finger in addition to the 4-cubic-yard ring.

“Throw that one away!” Clara shouted.

“I have one here that is 32-inches on a side!” she shrieked.

32-inches cubed was indeed larger than 26-inches cubed, but Blue saw no reason to discard the smaller capacity ring. More is always more better.

While Clara was frantically searching through the spatial rings. Blue found some necklaces with some small spatial spaces attached.

He had just located a pendant with a inner space 17-inches on a side, when Clara came up and started to berate him soundly.

“A 17-inch cube is too small to be good for anything!” Clara scolded.

“I like the pendant. I like bead necklaces. Please don’t scold me, Clara. I have always reached a breaking point, when people raise their voice to me. Loud voices go through me like a dose of Epsom Salts. If you weren’t a friend, I would already have tolchocked you,” Blue said.

“Anyway, that pendant was too large. This one is just right though,” Blue said.

He showed Clara a tiny freshwater pearl, He’d contrived to shorten the platinum chain until it was only a couple inches long.

“It is just the right size for a cute little faerie. I noticed that the rings weighted you down considerably when you flew with them. You need something smaller, if you’re to fly with it,” Blue said.

“The space is little—about 13.5-inches on a side—but most girls have little trinkets and keepsakes that they want to keep safe. Besides, that little pearl looks so stunning when it is in close proximity to you,” Blue flattered the little faerie.

“I’m sorry for being hateful. We have to be thinking about leaving here. We’re late enough that Old Man Schmidt will be getting suspicious—even though what I’m doing would be all-but-impossible to a lessor faerie. Only a paranoid would imagine this scenario happening—but the old bastard is paranoid,” Clara said.

“Avoiding battles that you cannot win is a form of cowardice. If the old bastard and his sons want to come against me, I don’t mind dying. I just want to take a couple or three of them down with me,” Blue said.

“Wouldn’t it be better to wait a couple or three years and take all of them down—and live?” Clara asked.

“I don’t know. That comes perilously close to having concern with consequences,” Blue said.

“Concerns With:
“Right or Wrong;
“Good or Evil;
“Success or Failure;
“Profit or Loss;
“Or,
“Life or Death
“Are All the Delusions
“Of a Sick Mind.
“The Sage Acts Solely
“For the Sake of Action,
“Without Regard for Consequences,” Blue recited.

“Come. These shortcuts through time and space are an artifact of me evolving. They won’t last forever and Old Man Schmidt is in the midst of trying to lock this space down, even now,” Clara said.

She landed on Blue’s shoulder and the two of them vanished from Old Man Schmidt’s treasury.

They landed about 12-miles away, just outside of the city wall.

“Come, we need to make tracks,” Clara said.

Clara and Blue headed for the forest. They hadn’t come out anywhere near a main trail so with any luck, it should be a day or two until they encountered anyone. By then, they should have eluded Old Man Schmidt’s dragnet.

Away from town? Who cared if some old city-ite got his faerie stolen? Weren’t faeries supposed to be blood bound to their master. If some rogue had come up with a way to steal faeries—more power to him!

Outside of neurotics, the only persons who would go out of their way to capture Blue and Clara would be bounty hunters.

Killing the pair might not be so hard. Capturing either of them alive would be far more problematic. The spirit seeds were already eaten and gone and what might possibly be salvaged would be far outweighed by the cost of hiring bounty hunters.

Old Man Schmidt was a money-grubbing miser. Sure, he was a vindictive old bastard, but not when it cost him too much money. He was ready to cut his net loose and accept his losses.

Blue and Clara planned a brief 3 or 4-month solo hunt in the close and relatively safe forest. Once Blue had a better handle on his new powers, they meant to try to join a safari. The deep forest was where the good stuff was. They needed more power and experience in order to be competent to enter the deep forest on their own.

[texican]

las hadas son muy pervertidas

fairies are very perverted

rvm,

So are some authors.

Texican....

[eyeseetwo]

Thank you.

[rvm45]

Chapter Four
6506


Rust had watched his world go to Hell in a handbasket overnight.

His mother was raped. She insisted on pressing charges, even when she found out that the rapist was a high-ranking member of the Price Consortium.

Within weeks his father was ambushed and killed by street toughs. It was a little too coincidental.

The Price Consortium bought up all of his father’s papers and contrived to make his family responsible for his debts. That wasn’t legal, strictly speaking, but the law bent and twisted like a pretzel for the rich and influential.

Rust’s mother never fully recovered from her assault. She died within days of his father’s murder. His three sisters drank hemlock rather than be sold to a brothel.

They made Rust’s brother a eunuch, but his brother managed to steal a scalpel and committed seppuku in the recovery room.

That left Rust. Rust wanted revenge and he set his decades-long plan into action.

Step one was to appear to run away. They caught Rust in the worst part of town, trying to bribe his way past the gate guard—but the mark of the debtor was upon him.

They put a tattoo on Rust’s chest, that had mystical properties. It would kill him if he set foot outside of the city limits. It could also be used to give him agonizing blasts of pain—or even kill him, if he disobeyed his superiors.

Rust looked upon the loathsome tattoo with satisfaction. The knob-gobblers would trust him more with this leash on him.

“Your brother was nothing but a boneheaded low-life,” the trainer told Rust.

Rust screamed in rage and launched himself at the trainer. He was hit with a bolt of agony that caused Rust to fall to the floor and writhe in pain.

The trainer had provoked Rust deliberately, to demonstrate the power of the tattoo.

“Since your brother had no other value, we turned him into a eunuch. We might have contracted him to guard a noble harem—perhaps even a royal harem—but the fool killed himself,” the trainer lectured.

Rust attempted to attack the man again and again and again. He attempted to attack the man denigrating his brother until the trainer marveled at Rust’s obstinance and ability to endure pain.

Meanwhile, Rust decided to stop. The longer he appeared obstinate, the more convincing it would appear when he pretended to submit.

He had enough will-power to keep attacking until the repeated electrical blasts killed him. On the other hand, he could have over-ridden the pain enough to kill this trainer—who had no martial art ability.

They used weak trainers to emphasize that everyone was his superior and he needed to be submissive.

Shocking himself to death or being executed for killing the trainer wasn’t part of Rust’s plan, so he forwent.

“You have an IQ of well above 200. You can rise high in this organization—so long as you remember who holds the key to your life and death,” the trainer told Rust smugly.

Rust started training to be a salesman and evaluator in one of the cultivator’s emporiums and he started gradually working his way up the ladder to set his plan into action.

*********** *************** **********************

When Sohn was a sophomore in high school—and the word should be pronounced “South-More” not “Soph-Moor” like a damned city-slicker—his grandma won the lottery.

Sohn wanted to be a doctor. Even a mundane doctor with no spirit root or unusual ability could be a boon to the people in the slums.

Grandma played the lottery once every month for good luck. Besides, the proceeds went to support a couple of the orphanages—so it was kinda like donating with a slight chance of winning some cash.

The amount of cash that Grandma won wasn’t enough to make her rich, but it could have supplemented her income luxuriously—by slum standards—for several years.

Instead, Grandma made a beeline to the Price Cultivator Emporium.

Rust noticed the entry-level sales people giving the old woman a hard time, so he invited her into her office.

“My grandson wants to be a doctor. I won the lottery. I want to buy him a Light spirit seed—or at least a Water spirit seed,” Grandma said proudly.

Rust poured the contents of the old woman’s coin purse onto his desk. There were a few gold coins, a few more silver coins—and the bulk was copper or bronze coins. He separated the coins by metal and by denomination until he had several stacks of coins.

Rust shook his head sadly. The old woman reminded him of his own long-lost grandmother.

“Old woman, a Light seed would cost tens of millions of dollars. Even a water seed would cost a few million dollars. However, you do have just enough to buy a Wood spirit seed. Don’t look down on Wood healing. It far surpasses being a mundane healer,” Rust said.

In point of fact, the old woman didn’t have quite one-third of the price of a Wood seed, but Rust was feeling generous.

He pulled a Wood seed out of his spatial ring. It was a three-headed Wood seed.

Generally, seeds with extra heads sold for a considerable premium. Multiple heads were far more common amongst Wood seeds than any other type spirit seed—so the premium was much less.

There were very few seeds of less value than Wood seeds anyway.

Rust intended to pay for a one-headed Wood seed out of his own pocket. Of course, he wouldn’t let on. That would make the old lady a subject of scrutiny by the organization. He’d just pretend that the old lady had brought enough money to buy a single-head Wood seed…

And if anyone caught the discrepancy…

“Wow, isn’t my face red!?! I made a beginner’s mistake and failed to note that was a three-headed seed.”

That would get him a shock. The organization was big on handing out corporal punishment—just to remind the peons of their place in the overall scheme of things.

Rust didn’t give a rat’s ass about pain or reprimands—though he’d swallow his pride and moan and plead—just to keep them unaware how strong that he was. Anyway, the chances were remote that anyone would notice such a picayune discrepancy.

“Grandma, when your grandson starts to cultivate, his appetite will increase. This will pay for the Wood seed,” Rust said while raking in most of the gold coins.

He would rather have let the old woman have the Wood seed for free—but that would make her suspicious. If she spoke of it, and the organization found out, it could lead to complications—for the old woman, her grandson and for Rust.

He gestured at the three remaining gold coins.

“You should have a big feast before your grandson eats the seed. I assume that y’all are a bit undernourished. Use the remains of the first gold coin and the other two to buy more meat and vegetables for you and your grandson. The next few years are crucial to his development,” Rust counselled.

Rust cut a column of silver coins in half,

“Pay for the boy’s next two years in high school with these. You will have a much-improved cash flow without worrying about the boy’s tuition. Tell him to come see me when he graduates high school. I will write him a letter of recommendation to college,” Rust said.

“Now I will tell you the truth. I gave you an especially prime Wood seed and I gave you a great discount. I like you. You remind me of my grandma. The thing is, I could get scolded rather severely. The boss might even dock my pay. Just do me a favor—like I’m doing you a favor—and keep our dealings between us,” Rust said.

*********** ************* *********************

Since he started with a 3-headed Wood seed, Sohn advanced to Level-3 in a matter of weeks. The three heads would also make his future levelling up faster and easier than if he had started with one or two heads.

Having a Wood seed take root in his body made Sohn healthier and physically stronger. All of his senses became noticeably sharper. His intelligence went up and he gained a deep intuitive sense of all things chemical or biological.

Sohn advanced to Level-4 before his junior year of high school ended. He advanced to Level-5 during his senior year.

*********** **************** ******************

After high school graduation, Sohn took the talisman that his grandmother had given him and went to see Rust.

“You’re 17-years old and you’ve already cultivated your Wood to Level-5? That is impressive!” Rust complimented the young man.

‘Should I have given the old woman a four-headed or five-headed Wood seed?’ Rust wondered.

No, that would have increased his risk of being caught. After all, the rarity of the seeds went up exponentially as the number of heads increased. A five-headed seed would have gotten the young man to Level-5 a bit faster—but his future prospects would only be marginally brighter.

Few got to Level-6 in Wood. Fewer still ever got to Level-7. There were perhaps a dozen people in the world at Level-8. Having a five-headed seed as opposed to a three-headed seed only helped a little when advancing to the higher levels.

‘What if I had dared give him a six-headed seed?’ Rust mused.

The emporium didn’t even have any seven or eight-headed Wood seeds on hand.

“Are you a cultivator?” Sohn asked.

He referred to Rust knowing his cultivation level and his exact age.

Shit! Rust diligently hid the fact that he had cultivated mind powers. That was to be one of his hidden aces when he made his move. He thought fast and lied like a dog.

“No. I have no spirit roots and no ability to absorb any spirit seeds. However, there are sensors built into the room,” Rust said.

“Do you know how college works? You have to apply anew each year. I’m going to recommend you to be admitted for your freshman year. The fees double every year,” Rust explained.

“Your sophomore year will cost twice what your freshman year cost. Your junior year will cost four times as much and your senior year will cost eight times the price,” Rust said.

“If you get into medical school, each additional year only costs a bit less than your sophomore year. At that point, they mostly want you to succeed. Of course, by order of the king, every graduating physician has all his student debt paid by the crown,” Rust said.

“That royal forgiveness of debt is like bait for a trap. If you only graduate, but aren’t admitted to medical school, you will spend half your life paying off your debt. If you fail out before you have a degree, you will spend your life as a cubical slave,” Rust said.

“HMMMmmnnnph! I will never live out my days as a cubical eunuch!” Sohn spat.

“At least cubical workers can go home at night, have a wife, raise children and such. Refuse, and they will make you a true slave, clap your ass in irons and send you to the mines,” Rust said.

“I will escape.”

“How will you escape?”

“If I refuse to eat and refuse to work, what will they do to me?” Sohn asked.

“They will beat you to death.”

“When my soul and my spirit leave my body, I will have successfully escaped!” Sohn said triumphantly.

“Have you ever taken a severe beat-down? No, I see from the look in your eyes that you have. I had a brother much like you,” Rust said as he assumed a 1000-yard stare.

“I’ll get you admitted and I will pay for your first year. That will make the debt a bit easier to bear, if wurst comes to wurst. Come see me if you need any help with anything, but be aware, my generosity has limits,” Rust said.

“There are some pills that will help you accumulate Wood chi here and a potion that will raise your IQ by 15%. Only the children of the petty bourgeoise use such low-efficacy intelligence enhancers. The rich have much better smart drugs. Still, very few poor students will have such an aid. Cherish it,” Rust told Sohn.

************* *************** *********************

Sohn had worked hard and he just had managed to maintain a 5.2 grade average at the elite high school that he had attended the last two years.

If “B+” was considered as being between one-third to two-thirds of the way toward an “A”. then “B+” started at about 5.33. {5.67 to 5.99 would be “A-”}

In his first two years of college, Sohn pushed his GPA to 5.43. The drug that Rust had given him helped and so did the rise in effect of his Wood attribute.

************ *************** ***********************

Sohn’s friend Dawn came by to visit him during Summer vacation.

“I miss your grandma,” said Dawn.

“I know.”

Words could not help some situations. Many wounds never healed, they simply scabbed over. Still, life had to go on. The alternative was to simply lay down and give up. That helped no one and it glorified no one.
“Your grandma ‘loaned’ me enough money to pay my apprenticeship fee. She knew that she wouldn’t live long enough for me to pay the debt. Still, I will pay what I owed her to you,” Dawn said.

“Forget it. We have both received substantial windfalls in our lives,” Sohn said.

Sohn was referring to the IQ enhancer, the Wood chi pills and the fees for his first year of college—but he’d been sworn to secrecy about that.

Dawn assumed that he meant the Wood seed that his grandma had bought him and the silver that she had lavishly spent to send Sohn to a better high school.

“What do you know about Blood seeds?” Dawn asked Sohn rhetorically.

Most spirit seeds came to be naturally, in nature—growing like plants, fungi—or in a couple of unusual cases—like mineral crystals. Blood seeds were the outlier. They were condensed and refined by the hand of man, from animal products—mostly.

You could argue that Blood seeds were not true spirit seeds. There were just as many arguments proving that they were true spirit seeds.

Suffice it to say, Blood spirit seeds were in a unique category.

"I have a recipe for Blood seeds. I am a journeyman butcher. My boss has given me permission to use his by-products and refuse and his facility,” Dawn said.

“This is the deal: we set up and clean up and have the slaughterhouse ready to be used on its next scheduled slaughter day. We get any amount of failures gratis. We get to keep all of our first successful batch. The owner gets half of our subsequent batches,” Dawn said.

“You have just completed your second year of pre-med and you have a Level-5 Wood attribute. Do you think that we can make Blood seeds?” Dawn asked.

“Level-6.”

“What?”

“It has been almost 2-years since I became a Level-5. I’m at Level-6 now,” Sohn said.

[rvm45]

Chapter Five
9042



The recipe called for some medicinal herbs—rather low-level spirit herbs, but still.

Sohn managed to collect most of the requisite herbs and minerals with a brief walk in the relatively safe forest immediately surrounding the city walls. His Level-6 Wood attribute led him right to them.

His Wood sense also led him to some special wood, berries and mushrooms that he put away without comment.

Alchemists and all but the lowest-level pharmacists used some sort of Fire attribute. Green Fire was best, followed by yellow—but any Fire beat mundane fire by a great deal.

This wasn’t, as many mundane assumed, because alchemy required ungodly hot fires. It was mostly because spirit Fires allowed far more exact and subtle control and also because green Fire and to a lesser extent, yellow Fire, added Fire chi to the final product.

Blood seeds could be produced without Fire attribute, but the quality of the seeds was less. Some of the special woods that Sohn collected could be controlled by Sohn as they burned and they also added some Fire chi—and a small amount of Wood chi to the final product.

The Blood seeds were still inferior to any Blood seeds created by an alchemist, but they were head and shoulders above any other pills created by non-Fire users.

The two young men worked like peons all Summer and they managed to produce four batches of Blood seeds.

“I’m going to absorb one of the seeds. I’d recommend that you do the same. Level-1 Blood attribute will increase your longevity about 20%. It will increase your recovery rate and vitality about one-third and it will increase your strength and resistance to injury about 50%,” Sohn said.

“More strength and resistance to injury is a good thing for a butcher—no? When we’ve absorbed the seeds, come with me. I have a great prospect to buy them,” Sohn said.

************ ************** ****************

Blue and Clara traipsed through the woods. Money wouldn’t be an issue with them for a good long while. However, if Blue wanted to master his woodcraft to the point that he could dwell long term, in the deep forest—where one might only see anther hunter perhaps once a decade—then he needed to perfect his skills.

His firearms were of very limited use, unless it was to shoot heavy mundane meat animals to feed them. Even then, to advanced cultivators like Blue and Clara, the meat of mundane beasts, with its almost total lack of chi—was akin to a mundane trying to subsist on a diet largely composed of lettuce, celery, carrot sticks and radishes with a very little dab of sour cream thrown in.

Sure, it might quiet hunger pains a bit. Someone would survive longer on the rabbit food than they would with no food at all—but the calories, protein and fat was too lacking to support life indefinitely.

In Blue and Clara’s case, they wouldn’t starve to death if limited to eating mundane meat and vegetables—but they would always feel hungry and unsatisfied and their cultivation would proceed at a tortoise’s pace.

Blue had gotten his Fire attribute up to Level-4. His red fireballs were noticeably hotter, more compact and faster to summon—but to his total disgust, he still only had five red fireballs.

On a more positive note, even when he had exhausted his red Fire chi, he could still scrounge up enough yellow Fire chi to throw five yellow fireballs. The yellow fireballs still fell well short of the red fireballs, but they were over 50% more powerful than when he started.

Then he could throw three green fireballs—each one about twice as hot as the original.

Orange and red Fire were so similar, that exhausting the red chi inevitably meant that the orange Fire chi was also exhausted. Blue Fire was supposed to be much hotter and more destructive than red Fire—but Blue had yet to condense a single blue fireball.

Fire wasn’t so much the problem. There were spirit beasts so powerful that the only prudent course of action was to run and hide. However, among beasts that were within the pair’s confidence zone, a powerful blast of Blue’s Fire attack ruined much of the meat.

That would be acceptable, if Blue and Clara only wanted to collect the beast cores—crystals of condensed chi found in higher level spirit beast’s bodies. Cores might be near the sternum, within the skull—or with a few oddball beasts—other places—like in the kidneys, liver or even stranger locales.

Blue and Clara wanted meat, hides and other valuable by-products as much as the crystals.

While bullets had limited effectiveness against spirit beasts and bullets were too small to put much of a formation—a cultivator’s hex sign—on—arrows were large enough to hold more than one formation.

Blue’s entry-level formations cut wind resistance, increased penetration and also increased the amount of hemorrhaging.

Blue’s 90-pound Bear takedown bow was more than powerful enough to severely wound many spirit beasts. He regretted not having picked a more powerful bow though.

As a cultivator with Body Cultivation at Level-2, 90-pounds was a puny weight. He had to consciously restrain himself to keep from wrecking the flimsy little bow. Nonetheless, it launched arrows far better than he could throw them.

He would really only be comfortable with a bow pulling at least 180-pounds—about twice the weight his current bow. He could go heavier, but if he went much heavier his potential for quick follow-up shots would drop.

Of course, with a much heavier bow, his need for follow-up shots should drop considerably. Currently, he mainly killed beasts by shooting them several times, while dodging like a good fellow and wearing them down. That was largely because a 90-pound bow, even with charmed arrows, was under-gunned for most spirit beasts.

Provoking a powerful spirit beast wasn’t really an issue, because if wurst come to wurst, he could always use a fireball and turn the creature into a crispy critter. He would just mess up a good portion of the cadaver.

********** ************* **********************

Blue was facing a horned beast. A horned beast was a deer-like creature about 10-foot tall at the shoulder. It had a set of curling ram’s horn type horns growing from the sides of its head; but it also had a thick heavy-duty set of antlers with roots set a little to the rear of the ram’s horns’ roots.

Both male and female horned beasts had the antlers. Unlike normal deer antlers, the antlers only dropped and then grew back if they were badly damaged.

The horned beast also had a rhinoceros-like horn on the end of its nose. The rhino horn was crystalline ruby red. It was only about 13-inches long and it would have been almost impossible for the horned beast with its heavily laden head to bring the small horn into play.

The small horn wasn’t for that. The red crystal horn acted like an antenna to attract and absorb Fire chi from the surroundings. The ruby horn stored and channeled Fire chi.

The horned beast had oversized silver hooves that were well-nigh indestructible and razor sharp. Although it was nominally an herbivore, it loved the sensation of stomping other creatures into red paste under its powerful kicks and stomps.

The horned beast charged Blue once more. Once again, Blue dodged to the side and shot another arrow into the horned beast. This one hit the beast in its abdomen. That wasn’t the best location for an arrow, but it would let the beast bleed out a bit faster.

The horned beast threw in the towel.

‘Screw it! This human is too slippery. I will give up trying to stomp him underfoot, and I will hit him with a Fire stream!’ the horned beast thought.

The horned beast started charging his ruby horn.

Blue looked grim. He carried five throwing knives over his right shoulder between his quiver and his back. The handles rode very low—with only about an inch visible over Blue’s shoulder.

They had to be low to keep Blue from inadvertently grabbing a throwing knife when reaching for an arrow. The consequence was, they were almost impossible to reach for a fast throw in the midst of fighting.

They weren’t for that though. Three throwing knives leapt from Blue’s knife battery by the power of Telekinesis.

The horned beast had three eyes—with an oversized red middle eye a palm’s breadth above the ruby horn,

The Telepathic paralysis hit the horned beast as a throwing knife raced for each eye. The eye was about the only place that Blue’s weak beginning level Telekinetic throwing knives could damage the powerful beast.

The beast was at a higher level than Blue. His paralysis could only freeze it for the briefest instant. It yanked its head just enough to dodge each of the missiles.

The knives plowed short furrows across the horned beast’s face, but that was all that they did. The knives fell to the ground due to the exhaustion of the mind power that drove them.

Blue looked about half-nauseous from the exhaustion of his mind chi.

The horned beast started to charge its ruby horn once more.

It had forgotten Clara—if indeed, it had ever taken the diminutive faerie into account at all.

Clara had an 11-inch long ivory lance that Blue had laboriously constructed for her from a giant boar’s tusk. He had used a needle as a stylus, to engrave numerous foundations or hex signs on the pencil-sized ivory lance. The lance came to a needle-like point.

Clara flew as hard as her dragonfly wings would allow and she rammed her ivory lance deep in the horned beast’s right eye. The lance ran deep into the skull bone behind the eye, but failed to penetrate into the brain.

The horned beast’s quick reflexive snap of its head sent Clara away at high speed. The careening, tumbling little faerie crashed into a tree and fell broken and half-conscious.

The horned beast took a step toward the incapacitated faerie.

The enraged Blue condensed the first blue fireball of his career and shot it at the rear end of the horned beast.

The horned beast was a Fire attribute creature a couple levels above Blue. Even at the same level, a beast would have considerably more power than a human being.

It was a tribute to the power of Blue’s rage that he could scorch most of the hair off the rear-quarter of the horned beast and cause it pain.

Of course, the emotional outburst exhausted most of Blue’s Fire chi. What the Hell? Fire attacks were useless against this creature anyway.

Blue stood without his bow—it having been lost somewhere in the last few hectic seconds. His muscles started to swell under a body cultivating technique as Blue made two bulging fists and his eye bulged out.

“I’ll beat you into a blood pudding with my bare fists!” Blue challenged in a berserker’s rage—all strategy forgotten.

The horned beast charged at Blue.

‘Stupid, puny human!’ he thought in contempt.

When the horned beast was only seven steps away, Blue cast an ice lance. Fire chi or no Fire chi—it had no meaning to his Ice chi—and this creature was especially vulnerable to Ice attacks.

The horned beast jerked his head to one side—just enough to completely dodge the ice lance aimed at its middle eye.

It stopped and started to charge the ruby horn one more time. It was time to stop playing with this crazy human. He had too many tricks up his sleeves.

Blue charged. An instant before he hit, he blasted the horned beast with a blast of Pyrokinetic fire. That’s right, his mental power had never been completely exhausted.

The Mind Power Fire attack caused zero physical damage, but it hurt worse than anything the beast had ever endured previously.

The horned beast froze just long enough to allow Blue to ram his second ice lance deep into the beast’s middle eye and into its brain. Ice chi flooded into the creature, tenderizing muscles, burning out nerves and destroying meridians.

“You were the one that asked for this fight. I was willing to apologize for setting foot into your territory and leave—but no! You had to play badass—you wimp!” Blue berated the dying horned beast.

Blue rushed over to where the fallen Clara lay. He gently touched the head of the tiny Clara and channeled Level-7 Wood healing into the little Faerie.

Wood healing was weak compared to Light healing or even Water healing, but it had no healing beat by a good country mile. Of course, Level-7 Wood healing was more powerful than the lower levels. Also, Clara was a type of Wood sprite, so the healing efficacy was multiplied three or four times over.

“I broke my lance, Blue,” was the first thing that Clara said when she woke up.

“I can make you another lance—a better lance,” Blue said.

“I’ve ruined one of my lower wings. I waited so long to become a four-winged faerie. Now, I’m back to two. Help me pull off my lower wings, Blue,” Clara said.

“It’s alright blue. My left lower wing is ruined beyond repair. I can fly with two wings—though I won’t be nearly as fast or as nimble. I cannot fly with three wings. Anyway, the wings will grow back, though it will take awhile. The sooner that my body senses a wing has been torn off, the sooner they will start to grow replacement wings,” Clara said.

“Please don’t delay. It is kinda painful and I’d like to do it while the combat endorphins are still flowing,” Clara urged.

[rvm45]

Chapter Six
11 355



“These are the best Blood seeds that I‘ve ever seen, that were created without Fire attribute,” Rust praised the boys.

“Sohn, I paid for your first year of college. For your share of these blood seeds, I will pay for your Sophomore year—including any interest accrued and I will also pay for your junior year of college,” Rust began.

“I will also give you some tonics to help increase your Wood and your Blood attributes and give you a stipend to live fairly well at the university for the next 2-years,” Rust said.

“Dawn, you are a journeyman butcher. Rising to become a master guildsman is largely a matter of paying your dues, playing politics and accumulating time in grade. I can pull strings and let you advanced to Master butcher before Sohn graduates from college,” Rust said.

“That isn’t nearly as valuable as what I just gave Sohn, so I owe you some boot…er, are you two willing to sign a blood oath of secrecy, if I promise to offer you one Hell of a deal?” Rust asked.

“You don’t have to agree to the deal. The pledge simply means that you will die if you ever tell anyone about my offer,” Rust said.

“The pledge only matters if I’m still alive. There is a clause that if I die, you will feel your release from the blood oath,” Rust said.

Many people felt very uncomfortable with any sort of blood oath hanging over their heads.

“I’m in,” Dawn said.

“Why not?” Sohn said.

Once the contracts had the young men’s bloody thumbprint, the old man lectured them.

“Y’all are more than a bit naïve. I didn’t have any bad intentions, but if I’d told you some of the shenanigans that can be pulled with blood contracts, it might make you reluctant to sign,” Rust said.

Rust spent the next 3-hours teaching the boy’s about how hidden clauses, hidden pages and inexact wording could turn the signer into the scammer’s virtual slave.

“Don’t ever sign a blood oath unless it is absolutely necessary. If it is a dire necessity, then protect yourself with the methods that I have just shown you. Now, down to business,” Rust said.

Rust handed them seven sets of alchemical recipes.

“Pay the most attention to the first three,” Rust said.

“These are alchemical recipes. They need Fire attribute,” Sohn said.

Rust placed something that looked like a fluorescent green garlic bulb on the table.

“That is a three-headed green Fire seed. If you take it now, you should be a Level-3 Fire user by Christmas Break. You and Master Butcher Dawn will be able to make me a batch of the first two pills in Master Butcher Dawn’s new abattoir,” Rust said.

“I know that you are pining for a Water or a Light seed. Both of those are very expensive. I’m misappropriating company property here. I can cover up a three-headed green Fire seed, but not a Water seed. Nonetheless, making money should bring the day closer, when maybe you can buy a Water or even a Light Seed,” Rust said.

“You are gaining a Master’s title and your own business. Still, it is nowhere nearly as valuable as what I’m giving Sohn,” Rust told Dawn.

“Your body can accept Wind, Wood and Earth type seeds. Wind attribute can be used to fly once your level is high enough. Consequently, Wind seeds cost almost as much as Water seeds. Sorry,” Rust shrugged.

“Few people would choose Earth attribute. It is relatively weak against other attributes in the early Levels and it is slow to level up. There is little demand for Earth seeds. Still, in this wide world, having Earth attribute is far better than having no attribute,” Rust said.

He lay a brown bulb on the table.

“That is a three-headed Earth attribute seed,” Rust said.

Dawn’s eyes widened in wonder. He reached for the seed, but Rust smacked his hand.

“Wait a moment. Wood seeds are as common as horse chestnuts,” Rust exaggerated.

“Wood and Earth may both be a bit weak, but they compliment each other. They’re not a bad combination in a fight, if you have both. Some years ago, I gave a three-headed Wood seed to Sohn’s grandmother. Now I’m giving one to you,” Rust said.

Dawn had never dreamed of having an attribute, let alone two. It had seemed too good to be true, when he managed to acquire the recipe for Blood seeds. Now he had both Wood and Earth seeds. He couldn’t stop smiling.

“Don’t take those seeds while you’re here, for God’s sake! However, do keep in mind the old proverb:

“There is many a slip between the cup and the lip.

“Once you have eaten those seeds, no one can take them away from you,” Rust advised.

After hammering out a rough agreement and the warning that they would piss off several established interests big time, if they were discovered, Rust let them go.

************* *************** ******************

Blue sat with the horned beast’s ruby horn in his hands and absorbed its Fire chi.

The ruby horn could have been sold for enough to make Blue richer than Old Man Schmidt—before Clara and Blue raided one of his treasuries.

Blue trusted power more than wealth though. Wealth could be very fickle and ephemeral.

In an uncertain world. Nothing could be counted on 100%. Well, you could count on God 100%, but God never promised that you could go through life without tribulation and eventual death.

Once you were dead, life was a closed book and it really didn’t matter anymore…

But even powerful warriors and mages could be crippled left to live out their days as invalids. Blue had read Iverson’s life story. Iverson was a master swordsman who had been paralyzed from the waist down, when in his mid-50’s. He’d gone on to write several treatises on the sword and life and he’d also written a few books of poetry.

“When I was a young man, I went to the practice field with grim determination. The sweat, the dirt, the many hours of drill, repetition and scrimmaging were seen as an obstacle to be surmounted—an unpleasantness that I had to endure to become a master swordsman,” Iverson had written.

“Somehow, I became a master swordsman despite my bad attitude. Truth be told, most martial artists and mages practice with this spirit,” he’d written.

“Now, I would give everything that I own, just to be able to go back and relive—even one of my most frustrating days of practice once more. All roads lead to death. The question is: will you walk your road with your head up, taking in all the sights and beauty along the way, or will you shuffle along with your head down, snuffling like a cowardly barrow?”

“Enjoy your practice! Exult in the process of building your skills! You will die in the end anyway. If your practice does not add to your life satisfaction, why do it?” Iverson had written.

Indeed, even if he invested in his skills, Blue might end up like Iverson, or worse, some day—although he often wondered why Iverson hadn’t committed seppuku—nonetheless, investing in his own powers seemed a far better bet than relying on wealth.

Finally, the horn dimmed—all the Fire chi, or almost all of the Fire chi drained out. Blue put the horn away. The material the horn was made of was still extraordinary, even without the Fire chi. He intended to use it to make another lance for Clara when he had the time.

Blue felt his Fire level build. He abruptly broke into Level-5. He continued to accumulate power and he made a determined assault on the barricade between Level-5 and Level-6.

Alas, he hadn’t quite enough accumulated chi to burst through the diaphanous but adamantine membrane that separated Level-5 from Level-6.

His inner man rebounded unceremoniously from the Level-6 barricade. On the plus side, he was at the very peak of Level-5 now and his unsuccessful assault on the barricade had weakened it by some small percentage. It would be marginally easier to get through it the next time that he assaulted it.

Everything is not relative, but many things are.

If you found a free-hunter—free-hunters were the mundane equivalent of free-rangers. They skulked around the edge of the forest killing mundane beasts and the very weakest of spirit beasts…

Well anyway, if you found a mundane free-hunter with no spirit root and no ability to absorb any spirit seed—and you offered him Level-1 Fire attribute, with no possibility of ever advancing it even a single level, he would still be overjoyed.

On the strength of three weak fireballs, that man could become the captain of a free-hunter gang and the head of a mountain village.

Amongst free-rangers and especially mages, the first three levels of most attributes were considered trifling. Level-4 would get a brief nod of respect. It was only at Level-5 that a mage started to be considered a full-fledged mage.

Level-6 was higher than Level-5, of course. Level-6 mages could command a higher percentage of the profits when they joined a gang going on a safari. There was a sea-change between Level-6 and Level-7 though. Mages Level-7 and above were a whole other class of beings.

Blue’s Wood attribute was at Level-7 and although Wood was considered weak, being an intermediate mage caused a number of changes in Blue’s body and energy network.

Blue travelled far outside the cave that Clara had found, so the two of them would have a safe place to cultivate.

He summoned a blue fireball. The ball was bigger than even a big grapefruit, but smaller than a volleyball. He cast it and created a tunnel of devastation through the forest.

“O shit! That’s a no-go!” Blue thought.

He had no idea that the blue fireball would be so destructive. His Wood attribute caused him great reluctance to gratuitously damage trees or vegetation.

He turned around and fired two more of the blue fireballs at the stone cliff face.

Blue had rated the entry-level red fireballs that he had thrown initially as “.454 Casuls.” By that standard, his new blue fireballs were like a .460 Weatherby Magnum…Yeah, more like a .460 Weatherby Magnum that some squinch-eyed over-clocker had coaxed another 350 FPS out of.

His blue Fire chi exhausted, Blur found that he could still throw seven red fireballs. By his old power scale, the softball-sized red fireballs were like some of the warmer modern smokeless loadings in .45-70.

The five yellow fireballs were more powerful than his entry-level red fireballs had been. He now had four green balls for his last-ditch offense. They had only gained about 15% more power from Blue’s level-up, but what the Hell?

The green fireballs were created from Fire chi desperately scrounged from his body when his Fire chi was well-nigh exhausted.

Once again, our hypothetical Level-1 free-hunter would be overjoyed to have those four green fireballs added to his repertoire. Many Level-3 Fire mages would be thrilled to add the four green fireballs to their battery.

Blue returned to the cave and sat once more.

There were thirteen smoky spherical crystals the size of children’s marbles. The horned beast kept his crystals in his pancreas—of all places.

Clara took six of the precious crystals and insisted that Blue take seven and the two quietly absorbed them.

Ice was powerful, but it was one of the hardest attributes to level up. Nonetheless, after Blue absorbed four of the gray crystals, he felt ready to level up his ice. He burst through the barricade into Level-4 in Ice.

A quick trial revealed that his ice lances had grown to about 9-foot long and they were over twice as powerful. He could summon a third lance, but it was a small 5-foot lance, more like a javelin. It only had about 60% of the power of his old ice lances.

O well! The javelin was something extra. He also found that he could also throw three snowballs—either before or after he threw his ice lances.

The snowballs exploded once they hit something and cast a moderately hard freeze on everything within a 5-foot radius. The snowballs weren’t even as powerful as his entry-level fireballs, but they could be used to attack creatures that were resistant to Fire. Anyway, the snowballs were a bonus. Far be it from Blue to look askance on a freebie.

************* *************** ********************

“Blue, you were about ready to go into berserker mode against the horned beast,” Clara accused.

“He hurt you! Besides, it was just a bluff,” Blue protested.

“It may have been a bluff, but when all else fails, berserker mode is your failsafe. That being so, you need to nurture your body,” Clara said.

She handed Blue a body cultivating pill.

“Where did you get that?” Blue asked.

“I still have Old Man Schmidt’s inventory. He tasked me with keeping it safe—and I am. If I ever encounter him on this side, I will return his inventory to him—if anything is still left. In the meantime, I am not Old Man Schmidt’s chattel. I am charging him a reasonable fee to safeguard his belongings,” Clara said.

After Blue absorbed the pill, the mental scorecard in his mind—kinda like a computer monitor screen—showed that his bench press had gone from 365 x 5 to 405 x 8. His squat had gone from 505 x 30 to 565 x 35.

He was stronger, but increasing the number of repetitions made a linear comparison of his strength difficult. Also, he really wondered how many repetitions that he could get with 600-pounds in the full squat.

“Your body is stronger now. All of your attributes will be able to gather chi more easily. Your body can also store more chi. There isn’t a big change, but it is a worthwhile one,’ Clara said.

“There is one more thing that you should do, before we end this cultivation session. You have three chi crystals left. Your body has been strengthened and I have some rare cultivation aids,” Clara paused dramatically.

“You should make a determined attempt to break through into Wood Level-8,” Clara said.

“What good will that do me?” Blue asked.

“Only a little. However, if you can break through to Level-9, a whole new world will open up to you. That will probably take a decade—maybe two decades. Nonetheless, advancing to Level-8 is a necessary step along the way,” Clara replied.

[millwright]

I like this one.

Keep it coming.

[rvm45]

Chapter Seven

13 795







Rust had sent word to Sohn and Dawn and asked them to meet him at a safe house that they had never used previously. He had also warned them to take extra precautions not to be followed.

Sohn had just completed his second year of medical school—medical school was three-years in Sohn’s country. Even if he needed to borrow money for his last year, it would have been no big deal, since he was 100% debt free at the moment.

If he was inexplicably forced to drop out now, paying for one year of medical school wouldn’t be a crushing debt.

Rust examined Sohn’s traits with satisfaction:

Sohn

Wood—Level 7
Fire (Green)—Level 5
Blood—Level 4

Very few people ever got their Blood attribute to Level-4, fewer still managed to manipulate Blood attribute outside of the body, to affect some kinds of healing. Sohn was a prodigy, at least in Wood and Blood—and he cultivated diligently.

He also examined Dawn:

Dawn

Wood—Level-5
Earth—Level-4
Blood—Level-3

Wood wasn’t too hard to get to Level-5. As a kill-floor butcher, Dawn absorbed a great deal of Blood chi without even consciously meaning to—thus explaining his high Blood attribute level.

Earth was hard to level up—not as hard as Ice, but still one of the harder to cultivate attributes.

Sohn and Dawn were forever brewing cultivation aids though. Even if Dawn hadn’t eaten many of the finished products, just absorbing the vapors would supercharge his cultivation.

When Sohn had no Fire attribute, he had carefully selected special woods to add some Wood and even a little Fire chi to his final product. He had also added a few minor catalysts to improve the brew a bit.

Once he had green Fire at Level-3, this was no longer necessary—but it still added a wee-mite to the efficacy of the result. And inevitably breathing a little of the smoke from the special woods fortified both Wood attribute and the body.

“Friends, I have a long-standing grievance against the Price Emporium,” Rust said.

He showed them his enchantment tattoo.

“Once my plot is exposed, I won’t survive the aftermath—but I hope to at least gravely wound Price Emporium with my death. I had y’all take that blood oath of secrecy, because I very much wanted to avoid implicating y’all in my feud,” Rust said.

“I’ve used the cash from y’all’s alchemical products to raise a sort of economic guerilla force all over the city, to snipe at the Price Emporium from the shadows,” he said.

“Unfortunately, I underestimated the Emporium. They have uncovered much of what I have done and they have traced my connection to you,” Rust said sadly.

“Sohn, they will charge you with fraud against the company and they will keep you brewing alchemical recipes with little or no reward until you die,” Rust said.

“No. They won’t,” Sohn solemnly remarked.

“Dawn, they will hamstring you, so you can never run away and they’ll send you to the mines. There isn’t much call to be swift afoot in the mines and with your strength, they can work you for a century or more,” Rust warned.

“Why are you still alive, being that they’re on to you and you have that tattoo?” Sohn asked.

“The tattoo can be deactivated temporarily—once. The backlash will be awesome, but I don’t expect to survive. I had to arrange for y’all to flee, since it is my fault that you came to this pass,” Rust said.

“This is a three-headed yellow Fire seed. Sometimes yellow Fire is better than green Fire for some recipes. Sometimes the two Fires can be used together. At any rate, yellow Fire is better for fighting than green Fire. Eating a three-headed Fire seed should get your Fire attribute to Level-6. You may very well need to fight soon,” Rust said.

“There is a three-headed Water seed and a two-headed Light seed for you. Sohn, you have time to absorb two of these seeds. Leave the Light seed for later. I know that you crave the healing power of Light but, low-level light has very little fighting power. Level-3 Water already has some innate combat techniques,” Rust told Sohn.

“Dawn, the only other spirit seed that can take root in your body is Wind. I couldn’t get you a Wind seed for the same reason that I couldn’t steal a Water or a Light seed for Sohn,” Rust said while smiling ruefully.

“Stealth is no longer a consideration and you lucked out. This is such a rare treasure that I have only seen one like this once in over 50-years of working as an evaluator and salesman for the Emporium,” Rust said.

He laid a big sky-blue bulb on the table before them. It was bigger than a golf ball.

“That is a five-headed Wind seed. You aren’t going to advance to Level-5 without a great deal of sweat and concentration—but you should be able to get your Wind to Level-4 by the time that you and Sohn leave this safe house. You won’t be able to fly until you get to Level-6, and then, only briefly. Concentrate on learning your innate Wind blade,” Rust said.

“I can’t release either of you from your blood oath of secrecy. That isn’t how blood oaths work. However, you will feel a release in the next few days. That will be me dying. Immediately upon my death will be the best time for y’all to make your move, to escape this city,” Rust said.

“Rust, thank you!” Sohn said.

“I am the one who led you two into big troubles. I should try to help you, if I can. If I ever had children, I would be proud to have grandchildren like the two of you,” Rust said.

*********** ************** *******************

Although Rust was an indentured servant, he was well-paid. He could have married a beautiful woman and raised a family if he had chosen to.

Rust had never formed any bonds with anyone. If he had a wife and children, they would simply be one more method that the hated Price Emporium could use to manipulate him. If he had friends, they would suffer when he finally went rogue against the organization. He felt that the Emporium was the supreme paragon of evil.

Still, he’s come to regard Sohn and Dawn with affection. His feelings were many times stronger, since he had never allowed himself to feel close to anyone else since his brother had committed seppuku.

At any rate, Rust had no ability to absorb any spirit root. Anyone could cultivate mind powers though—such as they were.

Rust kept his mind cultivation secret from everyone. That was to be one of his prime aces-in-the-hole.

Mind crystals like the ones that Blue had absorbed were a boilerplate rarity. Lessor mind crystals were though.

Westfall was a fairly large nation—unlike the backwater city-state that Blue hailed from. In Westfall, mind crystals, while rare. were encountered fairly often.

Rust coveted the crystals containing 50 or 60-years’ worth of diligent cultivation, but he couldn’t have afforded them. Stealing would get him noticed in a big way. He could buy 15 to 25-year mind crystals from his own pocket. It wasn’t as if he spent much money with his pleasure-shunning lifestyle.

No one cared about such piddling mind crystals. They assumed that Rust had sold them to someone—some medium-wealthy customer not worth tracking in detail.

Three 25-year mind crystals might not equal one 75-year mind crystal, because of the inefficiency of absorption. Three 25-year crystals would definitely equal one 60-year crystal though—maybe a bit more.

Rust had absorbed many crystals over the years. Each time, the pain increased, but he endured it grimly—for the sake of his vengeance. He didn’t slack off in his own mind power cultivation or put all of his reliance on chemical assistance either.

He had a great deal of mind power crystals on his person at the moment. He was—or had been until the last few days—a trusted and enchanted employee. It was natural for him to carry many hundreds of million dollars’ worth of resources in his spatial ring.

It made transactions more efficient—and there was no way that he could steal anything, after all—even if he harbored that ambition.

Rust absorbed one set of mind crystals after another. His mental powers soared. There was some evidence of cerebral hemorrhaging, but that was okay. His body didn’t have to hold together much longer anyway.

He had a sphere of pear wood, and it had been charged with five powerful Light attribute healings. Of course, the Light attribute healings couldn’t compare to having a powerful Light attribute healer lay hands upon him—but it wasn’t bad.

When blood started running out of his nose and ears—and he was even crying tears somewhat mixed with blood…When his head felt like that it would burst, then Rust would place both hands on the ball of pear wood and use one of the Light attribute healings. Then he’d continue downloading mind crystals.

He stopped when he had two healings left. After all these years, it was time to go on the attack.

The Emporium had crews of men searching all over town for him, but they concentrated on the poor sections of town where Rust had organized a rag-tag underground black-market and also arranged a sort of guild or syndicate of low-level warriors and mages to guard and protect the black-markets.

Scores of people were dragged out of their shanties and hovels to be roughly questioned by the Emporium guards. Sometimes they were beaten or even mind-scoured. Then they were branded and sold to the mines or brothels as slaves—those that the mind-scours hadn’t turned into vegetative zombies.

Now granted, 80% of the people rounded up were proven to have no connection to Rust and his syndicate—but what the Hell? Once they were thoroughly intimidated and were in chains, it would be a waste of effort not to sell them as slaves—so the Emporium thought.

It wasn’t legal, but no one put too fine a point on legality in the ghetto. Besides, the slave brand was irrevocable. Once someone was branded as a slave, they couldn’t be freed, even if they were proven innocent later on…

Though no one would waste time and effort proving a slave’s innocence, since it would have no bearing whatsoever on the slave’s fate.

If, by some freakish occurrence, a guard slipped and branded his own thigh, there would be no other recourse but to ship him to the mines as a slave.

There was a squad of thirteen warriors and a first sergeant working their way down a narrow street. They had already gathered a dozen men and perhaps twice as many women. Halfway decent looking women could be sold to brothels for a premium over mine slaves—and the Emporium’s grunts were big on a bit of graft along the way.

Rust stepped out. Only one of the people in the chain gang was one of his people—but such things grieved his soul—and anyway, he needed to start his kamikaze attack on the Emporium soon.

His tattoo would reawaken soon and he had pushed himself beyond his limits. He was like an arrow in flight.

Rust hit the guards with a blast of mind-power that was almost like a mind-scour on the fly.

Fourteen men hit the ground with slack eyes and totally bolloxed minds.

Rust collected the keys and set the captives free.

“Go hide. Hide somewhere deep. If you’re captured again, I won’t be there to help you. No one will be there to help you,” Rust said.

He went down the line, beheading each of the ruffians in turn. There was no question of them ever recovering from the mind blast that Rust had given them, but Rust waned to see blood flow.

He could feel several squads and one full platoon rushing toward the site of his mini-massacre. He expected that the first sergeant—at the very least—to be hooked up so that the Emporium would know if he died.

There were also some more powerful figures racing his way. That was all to the good. Every Emporium effective that he could slay was protein for the home team, but he really wanted to take out a few more important members before he died.

[rvm45]

Chapter Eight

15 884







Rust ran amok. He had repressed his killing intent toward everyone associated with the Price Emporium for far too long. Shedding their blood made him feel like he was taking a shower after a long and very filthy job. The warm water soothed his muscles and his soul and he never wanted the shower to end.

Unfortunately, his moment of happiness was doomed to be all too brief.

Rust was an indifferent swordsman—though he had trained to the best of his abilities. He had no elemental affinities. While his mind power had soared to heights almost undreamt of by humans, it wasn’t that formidable, in an absolute sense.

He had no great affinity for Pyrokinesis and even less for Telekinesis. Almost all of his energy had went into Telepathy and mind attacks. That was all to the good for someone wanting to rack up the largest possible body count.

A few throwing knives wouldn’t take out a platoon. The mostly psychic effects of Pyrokinesis would—at most—cause some lasting sequela. Mostly though, Pyrokinetic attacks were just a transient way to torture someone—very briefly.

The great static blasts of mind power that he sent out though, had the power to kill instantly in some cases and turn the clients into mindless vegetables in many more.

Rust believed that in the case of any large and evil institution, the low-level functionaries who had no voice in deciding policy and were in many cases ignorant of the greater part of the atrocities committed—were the one’s most deserving of punishment and come judgement day, out of all the organization members punished, they would be the ones sent to the lowest level of Hell.

However, to damage the functioning of such an evil monolith, it was more efficacious to attack the head rather than the rump.

There was a limit to how high up the scrotum pole that Rust, with his limited powers, could reach.

He wasn’t aiming to totally eradicate the evil Price Emporium. He just hoped to give it a soul-satisfying pruning.

*********** ************ ******************

A Level-8 Fire Mage confronted Rust. It only took an instant for a blade of purest Fire to cut off both of Rust’s hands halfway up his forearms. The Fire simultaneously cauterized Rust’s wounds to keep him from bleeding out.

While Rust was momentarily non-comfited a powerful mind mage confronted him obliquely. When Rust was maximally distracted a Level-7 warrior slipped up behind Rust and injected him with a substance that suppressed mind power.

“I’m done here,” Rust thought without regret.

As he was trying to maneuver his tongue around to trip the hidden switch in a hollow tooth, to release a powerful blast of neurotoxins, the warrior reached into Rust’s mouth and raked out all of his teeth like someone raking marshmallows out of a plastic bag.

“No suicide express for you! You’re scheduled for an intensive mind scour,” the warrior said.

He pushed several acupuncture points that left Rust completely paralyzed but fully conscious.

*********** ************** *****************

Dawn sat in the hidden sub-basement of the safehouse and absorbed the extraordinary five-headed Wind seed.

Level-1; Level-2; Level-3…

There was a good long pause. Dawn felt like someone struggling to relieve themselves despite severe constipation.

Finally, he broke through to Level-4. He had surpassed Rust’s expectations for him. Still, Level-5 was not a reasonable aspiration in the immediate future.

Dawn sat and consolidated his cultivation. There wasn’t room in the sub-basement to throw Wind blades, but he could circulate his chi along all of the proper pathways—stopping just short of the casting stage—and build up his casting speed and stamina.

He found that he had inherited two other innate techniques. “Tailwind” gave him a strong push from behind. It took three or four steps to bring it fully into play and it wasn’t ideal when one needed to make quick changes of heading—but it was better to have it than not to have it.

“Headwind” pushed a client away from him. It was mainly good to mess up a client’s timing and balance momentarily, since any client formidable enough to pose a threat to him was more than powerful enough to progress despite the headwind…

But if it hit someone unexpectedly, at just the right instant.

Eventually, Dawn had made all the improvements to his cultivation and techniques that it was possible to make in the short run.

But something nagged him…

Earth was a hard element to level up, despite the steady stream of cultivation aids that his friend Sohn kept him supplied with. However, everything affected everything else.

A few hours of concentrated cultivating raised his Earth to Level-5. He didn’t acquire any more innate techniques, but the power, stamina and expertise of his existing techniques went up a great deal—especially the dual Wood/Earth techniques that he had practiced diligently.

In just a half-day’s time, Dawn had become a far more formidable opponent.

Meanwhile, Sohn absorbed the yellow Fire seed. Sohn already had Fire affinity, so the absorption was far less challenging.

His Fire level flickered uncertainly for a moment and then advanced confidently to Level-6—a good solid Level-6. He now had yellow Fire, but he couldn’t form the vaguest idea how many yellow fireballs that he could throw, how powerful they would be and how many green fireballs that he could follow up with. He would have to be somewhere that he could throw his fireball reservoir dry to find that out.

At any rate, his Fire was now much more powerful.

He turned his attention to the Water seed that Rust had given him. A three-headed Water seed should take him to Level-3 relatively painlessly.

“Waterblade” was the most common innate technique inherited from Water. At higher levels, deuces were wild, but at entry level, waterblade was noticeably weaker than windblade. Still, when he ran out of fireballs, it would be nice to have a few waterblades rather than be forced to rely on leaves and twigs to defend himself.

Also, someone with a strong Fire affinity could fuse Fire with his waterblades to create steamblades. Steamblades trumped windblades of the same level by a great deal.

Dual techniques were never innate, but there was a crystal with the knowledge of how to use steamblade ready for Sohn to absorb.

Meanwhile, Dawn had just noticed that in the spatial ring that Rust had given him, there was a dual Earth/Wind technique known as “sandblast.”

There was a long tunnel entrance in the sub-basement. Rust had said that it went under the city wall and into the wooded area beyond. Nonetheless, both Sohn and Dawn were wanted men—fugitives from the establishment.

There were detectors at the gates and integrated into the city walls to keep dudes like them from leaving. There was some risk of tripping the detectors, even when using a tunnel that passed 60-feet below the base of the city wall.

The Earth sages that Rust had hired weren’t on the watch list. They had made the escape tunnel—and many more like it—without incident. That did not necessarily mean that two men on the “most-wanted” list could pass under the wall…

Maybe. Maybe not.

Rust had told them that when they sensed his death, that there would be a distraction. The friends trusted Rust. If he wanted to kill or trap them, there were far easier and less costly ways to do it.

Sohn was sorely tempted to start absorbing the Light seed—but there was no tactical advantage to doing so—though it wouldn’t hurt anything—unless the signal to move caught him halfway through the absorption process.

Sohn ate a Blood seed instead. Once someone had Blood attribute, any further Blood seeds would be assimilated to strengthen the Blood and marrow. There seemed to be a limit to just how powerful Blood could get though. That was one of many ways that Blood cultivation differed from other forms of cultivation.

Sohn was one of the rarest of Blood cultivators, with Blood at Level-4. He had never heard of anyone with Blood at Level-5. He wasn’t sure what Level-5 Blood would mean, what abilities that it would give and whether it was even attainable. He wouldn’t find out by not trying though.

He encouraged his friend Dawn to eat another Blood seed as well. Dawn was only at Level-3, so improvement was still quite conceivable in his case.

Cultivating any element increased longevity. The more elements that one cultivated and the higher the level one attained, the greater increase to one’s life expectancy. Still, at any given combination of elements and levels, one’s increasing longevity ground to a near standstill—advancing very slowly—unless more elements were added or one leveled-up.

Blood seeds bypassed the roadblock to longevity increases. Anyone who cultivated a Blood seed would get a major increase in longevity with the first level and more modest, but still substantive gains at each increase in level. The physical strength and stamina would also increase remarkably.

The main reason that more people didn’t cultivate Blood—well, the very poor couldn’t afford a Blood seed—but cultivating Blood was a bit painful from time to time and one also became a bit bestial.

Blood cultivators were heavily muscled. They had pronounced canines like a beastman. They were a bit short-tempered, craved their meat rare and sometimes drank blood.

Many cultivators looked down on Blood cultivators as being crude and barbaric. It was foolish to throw away such a good potential source of vitality and longevity over city-slicker prejudices—but there you had it.

Over the next few hours, Sohn did not set a cultivating record by breaking into Blood Level-5, but his friend Dawn did become one of the handful of cultivators to reach Blood Level-4.

************ **************** ********************

Blue shot yet another fire monkey with his bow. It was useless to shoot the little pests with a firearm. Once they were hit, their hand muscles locked on the branch that they were holding and they would hang 350-feet above the ground like a high-altitude piñata until they rotted—or more likely, a carnivorous bird discovered the monkey carcass.

Contriving to climb that high, to collect the minuscule monkey carcass was far more trouble than it was worth.

However, each monkey had a tiny Fire crystal. Usually, crystals needed to be refined to be absorbed, but the tiny and very pure Fire crystals from the monkeys was a boilerplate exception.

Blue had finally advanced to Level-6 in Fire. His easy advance to Level-6 made him all that much more determined to rush onto Level-7.

Alas, it was like trying to walk up three flights of stairs with a 100-pound sandbag on each shoulder. It could be done—by some people, on a very good day—but it was a major undertaking.

Each monkey Fire crystal moved Blue incrementally closer to Level-7, so he toiled grimly on.

There was a muscle relaxant coating on the blunt arrows that caused the monkey’s hand and foot muscles to relax after a moment or two.

“This sucks!” Blue complained as he absorbed another tiny Fire crystal.

“We should hunt another horned beast!” Blue opined.

“We were quite lucky to survive our first encounter with a horned beast. That one was a rather weak example of the breed,” Clara explained patiently.

“Even so, it could have gone quite differently, under other circumstances,” she continued.

Clara’s lower wings had grown back and she was an inch or so taller.

Her old wings resembled a dragonfly’s wings. Her upper wings still did, but her lower wings had grown in shorter and noticeably wider—like a bumblebee’s wings.

Dragonflies were incredibly nimble, but Clara wasn’t a dragonfly.

Clara’s top straight-line speed had gone down a bit, compared to with her old double pair of wings, but her maneuverability—and surprisingly, her stamina—had increased far out of proportion to the little bit of speed that she had lost.

She had grown a bit over an inch—far ahead of schedule for a faerie—in response to her serious injuries.

“What doesn’t kill you, makes you bitter.”

“Blue, let’s join a good-sized safari. We need to earn enough to buy you the resources to get your Ice attribute to Level-5. Ice is the attribute that is strongest against a Fire attribute beast like the horned beast and anyway, you need a bit more experience before we go after a horned beast with malice of forethought,” Clara said.

Blue considered. The last time they had encountered a horned beast, Clara had been gravely injured. He blamed himself a bit for that. He had only been venting when he suggested hunting a horned beast.

“You’re right. Let’s take our gains and head toward town to try to find a safari to join,” Blue said.

As they walked, they came to an area that put out a definite chill. That was a boilerplate rarity in the tropical rain forest.

Tropical plants were wilting in the chill air. Further in, there was a layer of frost on everything and both trees and undergrowth was all deader than Judas Iscariot.

“There is only one creature that I know of, that carries its own little Arctic climate around with it: dwarf ice bear. It’s kinda like a 600-pound polar bear with Ice attribute,” Clara said.

“This is a young one. Ice at Level-4 should give you some protection against the unnatural cold, while having Fire at Level-6 gives you something to attack it with. If we can kill the bear, it should have enough Ice chi to get you to Level-5. Do you want to try it?” Clara asked.

“The whole idea is to get stronger, so yeah…” Blue said.

“Blue, if the dwarf ice bear proves too strong, don’t be ashamed to run away,” Clara reminded.

“What about you?” Blue asked.

“Don’t worry about me. Very few creatures can catch a faerie when the faerie decides to flee,” Clara said.

[texican]

rvm,

Will Rust return to have his justice?

Texican....