Chapter 26
Jaro had no family, no real friends outside the squad. His body had been lost in Greenvalley, leaving nothing to bury.
Two days after the mission, when the squad gathered again, they decided to make a memorial for the man. They built a simple wooden marker inside the Stonewatch cemetery with Jaro's name engraved on it.
Darius said a few short words to honor him. But… that was it. None of them had truly known Jaro.
The team lingered for a moment around the memorial, each lost in their own thoughts. Then, a while later, they headed back to the fields. Darius had talked to the administration about the matter of their rewards for completing the mission. And it was time to decide what each of them wanted.
"I need resources." Renna said. "Cultivation ressources."
Siv nodded. "Same here. Strength's worth more than coin."
One by one, they voiced their ideas. Overall, except for Lysa, they were all in favor of exchanging their rewards for minor Qi stones.
Darius noted it down, and by the end of the day, their rewards had been processed.
Compared to what they had been through, it was a modest compensation. Only three Qi stones each. Not much in the grand scheme, but it was something. Enough to help them recover their strength.
For Alden, it meant more than that. Combined with what he had saved from his first pay, it would finally be enough to begin his core condensation training. Ever since the day he came back from Greenvalley, he had been staying at the Scourge's place to cultivate.
The man had finally taught him a real cultivation technique: The Fourfold Spiral Technique. The concept was easy enough to understand. Alden had to breath and circulate Qi in a certain pattern to direct it into his inner world. Once absorbed, he could then mold the Qi and form a rotating ring to stabilize the energy.
As its name indicated, he had to form four rings to complete the technique. By then, he would be qualified to form his Qi core and break through into a formal Qi cultivator. For now, he had to finish creating one ring to be called an aspirant.
Although Alden had easily understood the concept, the practice part was a different matter altogether. Following the breathing pattern was something he could manage, so was absorbing Qi and directing it into his inner world.
But beyond that point, the difficulty suddenly ramped up. The act of controlling Qi was something so new to him, that for a time, Alden just didn't know where to start. It was the same as trying to play a game without any controller.
Aspirants usually spend months, sometimes years familiarizing themselves with Qi before actually cultivating. At least, that's what Renna said.
But Alden refused to believe that he would be the same as everyone else. He came from a world where abstract concepts were the bread and butter. If he could just understand how the process worked, he was certain he could do it.
He just had to be stubborn enough.
That night, as he sat with the pouch of Qi stones before him, he could see the faint hum of energy even through the cloth.
He palmed one of the stones and focused. His breathing shifted, and he could feel a warm energy thread into his body, starting from his arm. From there, he let go of the feeling and focused more on his breathing. It was the key.
If he focused too much on Qi, it wouldn't go anywhere. But if he concentrated on the meditation technique, then it would naturally follow.
After a while, he could feel the energy slowly gather into a point near his heart. Still with his eyes closed, Alden felt himself approaching a special state. His focus split from being both outside, and inside.
He didn't fully fall into his inner world, his consciousness hovered in the middle.
Inside, the white fog thickened. Shapes pulsed and shifted faintly in the distance, just vague outlines without form or detail. Alden stood there, or rather, his consciousness did. It felt like standing in a lucid dream. He had enough awareness to know he was dreaming, but many things still escaped his grasp.
He focused. The warmth from the Qi stone in his hand following him as a stream of faint light seeping into the fog. He tried to compress it, to form it into something solid, but to no avail.
It did not respond to him.
Alden clicked his tongue. He had been stuck at this step for two days now. And he couldn't find any clues about how to progress.
Controlling the Qi directly wasn't working. It refused to obey.
He could feel it, but it wasn't his to command.
Alden took a slow breath and started thinking. Maybe he was going at it the wrong way. If this inner world was a reflection of his soul, then forcing the Qi might be the wrong approach. The only thing he could do was bring it in from the outside.
Perhaps, it wasn't about commanding the Qi at all. Since he couldn't control it, why not try to control what was around it?
He shifted his focus. Instead of pressing the Qi, he imagined the fog folding, curving gently inward, shaping itself into a spiral. And begrudgingly, it followed his vague input. Alden kept trying until finally, he got a reaction.
The Qi followed, almost naturally, as if finding a path.
Light gathered, tracing an arc and following the fog.
His heartbeat quickened. He slowly guided the fog, turning it into a spinning circle. He watched in amazement as it started glowing. The Qi inside was growing more and more pronounced.
Sadly, in his excitement, his breathing technique was interrupted. Alden lost contact with his inner world. And suddenly, he felt exhausted. When he finally opened his eyes, sweat beaded his forehead.
Across from him, the Scourge sat in silence, staring intensely.
He didn't speak for a moment. Then, slowly, he leaned forward. "Are you sure you haven't done this before?"
"What do you mean?" Alden asked tiredly. "Have I done something weird again?"
"Damn right you did." The Scourge said, finally letting out a short laugh. "You're one hell of a talent, kid. It took you what, two days? Two days to figure out the trick behind cultivation? That's… absurd. And how did you even do it? Figuring it out is one thing, but accomplishing it is another."
Alden shrugged, still catching his breath. "I don't know. I just thought about it, and it worked. Maybe I'm lucky."
"Lucky?" The Scourge laughed. "You might actually have talent."
For once, there was no sarcasm in his tone, no sharp edge hiding behind the words. He leaned back, shaking his head in disbelief. "If anything, you are unlucky. You weren't exposed to Qi earlier. Still, with this talent… you might actually make something out of yourself."
Alden didn't reply right away. He looked down at his hand, at the gently pulsing Qi stone, and allowed himself a small smile.
*************************
Over the next two weeks, Alden started to cultivate like a possessed man. From the first light of dawn to deep into the night, he focused only on forming his first Qi ring.
There was something addictive about watching the small thread Qi slowly thicken over time. And with practice, Alden also got better and better at the Fourfold Spiral Technique. The rate at which he pulled Qi into his inner world increased until he could empty out two minor Qi stones in a day.
And that was with him spending hours patrolling with the Stonewatch.
Alden thought that if he only focused on purely cultivating, he could push his absorption rate to 3, or even 4 minor Qi stones a day. The Scourge had noticed his progress too, quietly remarking that Alden's efficiency matched that of a seasoned aspirant cultivator.
So it came as no surprise when, ten days later, Alden finally completed his first Qi ring. And with it, he felt a strange shift in his inner world.
He had developed an extra sense. One that originated from his inner world and extended all the way into the real one.
When he asked the Scourge about it, the man explained that it was an extension of Alden's soul. Now that he had finished stabilizing his first Qi ring, he had technically built a bridge between the two worlds, allowing his soul to exert its power into the world.
Still, despite all his achievements, Alden was now faced with a new problem. He had run out of cultivation resources. The pouch that once held a modest collection of minor Qi stones now lay empty on the table beside him. He'd burned through every shard, every ounce of stored energy. Without them, his cultivation slowed to a crawl.
Now, he had to draw from the air itself. Drawing it in was like trying to drink through cloth. If not for the help of his newly awakened sixth sense, he would be hardly making any progress.
In the middle of the night, Alden started thinking about what he could do to gather some Qi stones.
********************************
Outside, the town's noise gradually died down. But inside the Arena, cheers rolled over the walls like waves.
Gerric turned his head as the patrol passed the edge of the Arena District, catching just a glimpse of the lantern-lit banners and distant flashes of movement beyond the stone walls.
He let out a low whistle. "The Arena's quite lively tonight."
His partner, a broader man with a crooked helm, grunted beside him. "Yeah, I had been visiting the place a few times these days. Their fighters know how to entertain."
Gerric nodded in response. The place had become something like a pressure valve lately. With the town's nerves stretched taut from the wraith attacks, fighters in the pit had become something close to heroes. Something for the common folk to scream for.
He didn't blame them.
Years ago, he stood among the spectators himself. Back when his father was still alive and their little family-run stall that worked in the lower markets was still thriving. Back before a wraith slipped through the wards at the southern edge and tore through a stretch of homes like it was smoke.
Back before he learned how slow the guard could be to respond, how powerless they were when they arrived.
Gerric hadn't picked up a sword for money, or even pride. He'd picked it up because when they dug through the rubble two days later, his sister's corpse was found under a neighbor's table, still curled up. her expression frozen in horror.
Her face haunted him. Even now, he would occasionally dream of that night, of how powerless he felt.
Two years had passed since then, and things haven't changed much. If anything, they have actually grown worse.
Back then, horror attacks were rare. Accidents. Anomalies. That's what the reports said. But now? They would be lucky if a week passed without a report of another victim.
Gerric was tired of it. He was tired of the horrors, tired of being useless. He wanted to do more, to protect the people. But he was too weak to do so. He didn't have the connections, nor the potential to be a Qi cultivator.
All he could do was these mindless patrols. Patrol which would end in his death if he ever had the misfortune of really running into a wraith. And the only good that would do would be to give the higher ups better data to work with.
Still, that night, things were different.
The lanterns lining the outer streets had already been relit, and the air, while still cool, carried something other than fear. The grueling patrol wasn't as useless as it was before. It now had a purpose.
He looked left to where the next squad trailed behind them, three guards, and walking at their head, a tall woman in dark robes. A cultivator.
It still didn't feel real.
"You believe it?" Gerric asked quietly. "They say the Town Lord's out tonight. Personally walking the inner district. That's something, isn't it?"
His partner snorted. "That man?" The other guard gave a sharp laugh. "If half of what they say is true, he doesn't walk, he floats."
But Gerric smiled.
He couldn't help it. With the town lord himself taking action, the weight on his shoulders felt easier to carry. It was lighter when shared.
It was a good feeling.
One he hadn't had in a long time.
The squad reached a corner where the buildings thinned out into a wider street, torchlight shimmering across damp cobbles. Gerric shifted his grip on his spear, still smiling faintly as he scanned the rooftops.
Tonight, he thought, might actually be quiet.
They moved on, deeper into the quieter streets where the Arena's roar no longer reached.
The town changed out here. No drunk laughter, no warm light spilling from inns or food stalls. Just shuttered windows and the faint creak of hanging signs swaying in the wind.
This part of the patrol route circled past the northern ward perimeter, where some of the older protective nodes were rumored to be failing. Ordinary people usually avoided these places if they could.
And even the guards themselves avoided patrolling there.
Gerric and his partner walked side by side, boots soft over packed dirt and scattered gravel. The rest of the squad followed, spaced evenly, eyes nervously shifting around.
"They say horror sightings dropped this week." Gerric said, trying to evacuate the tension in the air. "Two attacks instead of four."
"Still two too many." His partner muttered. "But I'll take it."
Gerric scanned a narrow alley to the right, empty. A stray dog darted behind a stack of barrels. "I think our efforts are paying off. Those demons no longer dare to be careless."
His partner didn't reply immediately. Just shrugged. "Feels like something's shifting. I'll give you that."
They turned another corner. And Gerric suddenly felt cold. He suppressed a shiver as he scanned the streets.
The air had changed.
It was subtle. The kind of thing you wouldn't notice unless really focused on it. A pressure, like the sound had been drained from the street. Like the buildings leaned a little too close together. Like the shadows moved.
Gerric slowed his march, and raised a hand up nervously.
The squad stopped behind him, all eyes scanning the narrow lane ahead. They were in an old corridor between two tenements. The street opened into a small square beyond. It was where patrols would normally take a short break.
But it was eerily quiet. No sound. Not even rats.
Gerric's mouth went dry. "Something's wrong."
His partner lifted his blade hesitantly. "Where's the support unit?"
"They were trailing behind. Should've caught up by now-"
The words didn't finish.
Something moved, too fast for their eyes to catch in the darkness of the night.
One of the guards at the back choked out, "Att-!"
Then he was dead.
He didn't scream. Didn't roar.
He fell without making a sound. Neck broken. The second guard staggered, gargling sound left his mouth as he stared in disbelief at a huge claw mark on his chest.
Gerric stumbled back, trying to raise his spear, but the monster had already moved past him, dragging another screaming guard into the shadows with impossible speed.
The patrol broke.
Shouts filled the alley. Two guards ran. Another tripped. Gerric turned, heart hammering, his first instinct was to regroup, but there was no formation left. Just flashes of movement, the wet sound of flesh being torn, screams that abruptly ended one by one, and that awful cold that seemed to permeate his skin.
The shadow struck again, dragging Gerric's last partner into the wall with a crunch.
Blood spattered the stones.
Gerric fell to one knee, gasping, paralyzed as his spear clattered uselessly to the ground. In the span of a few seconds, his squad was slaughtered. He was the last one standing.
Sensing that he was the only one left, the shadow finally revealed itself.
A humanoid figure stepped into the moonlight. It was tall, unnaturally so, with a broad, muscular frame. Its bare chest was marred by faint black lines that pulsed faintly beneath the skin.
Its bright yellow eyes froze Gerric in place. They lit up unnaturally in the night, pinning him down. He wanted to scream, to move and pick up his spear. But his body refused to respond.
He could only watch as the monster drew closer with slow, deliberate steps.
But then, something dropped from the rooftops.
It was a blur. Steel flashed once in the moonlight before boots hit stone with barely a sound. The figure landed between Gerric and the monster, standing protectively before him.
Gerric recognized her from the cloak. The woman was part of the backup squad, Zarah Farrow, a cultivator.
She spared a glance at her surrounding, taking stock of the carnage. Then fixed her eyes on the imposing form of her opponent.
"A wraith?" She tentatively asked. But her opponent seemed like he wasn't interest in talking.
With a silent step that belied his build, the monster rushed at her.
Zarah drew a sword from her hip and parried the first blow, steel shrieking against sharpened claws. Sparks flickered in the dark as she twisted her stance and met the second strike with a controlled deflection, shifting the creature's momentum past her.
But it didn't stop.
The humanoid came at her with terrifying precision. Claws slashed at her neck, ribs, knees. She intercepted the strikes with her blade, dancing just out of reach when the angle grew too sharp.
Their feet scraped against the stone in bursts, displaying speeds that were too fast for the normal eye to track.
Gerric watched, barely understanding what he was seeing. Still crouched low, he forced himself to move. He shifted onto his side, dragging his legs beneath him, boots skidding over blood-slick cobble. He didn't want to be in the way. If either of them knocked into him mid-fight, he knew he'd die.
From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the two blurred figures.
A short slash opened the creature's shoulder, dark mist sprayed out like smoke. Another claw grazed the woman's arm, tearing her sleeve open but missing flesh.
Gerric backed further, one elbow scraping painfully on the stone. Then again. One more scoot, and-
**Thud**
His back hit something.
Or rather, someone.
A sturdy shape stood behind him.
Cold sweat raced down Gerric's spine as he slowly tilted his head up. Black robes. Polished boots. A cloak draped with gold-trim trim. Pale hair tied back in a loose knot.