Luke rushed out of his bed, briefly stopping to grab his armaments before hightailing it down the short hallway. He came to a skidding halt when he saw Spiros standing in front of the door, waving, a cheeky grin plastered across his face. Cleary not in need of any help. Taking a deep breath, he walked the rest of the way.
"What is it?" Luke asked, tiredly rubbing his face.
"Just wanted to see how you were doing. You've been in there for almost an entire day. So, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. How's the situation out there?"
"Not bad. After you left, people started hounding Arya. She tried explaining what she figured out but couldn't really get anything across." He shrugged. "I don't know why people thought a mortal would be able to help them learn a hero's technique when the hero herself can't get it through their skulls. Can you imagine? Idiots."
"… that actually makes some sense. I think." Luke looked at him appraisingly.
"Of course it does." He leaned against his ever-present spear. "Did you really figure it out, though?"
Luke navigated to the skill tab on his status and looked at the percentage, cupping his chin thoughtfully as he stared at the number.
I learned exactly point-zero-two percent of it. So, yeah?
"What are you doing?"
"I'm thinking. I guess you could say that I got my toe through the door." Luke nodded. "Yeah, that's a good way of putting it."
"You have the strangest expressions. That's not bad, though. It's more than most of these people have." Spiros grinned at him.
"Most?"
Spiros preened. "You didn't think you and Arya were the only geniuses, did you? Me, that prick Yarn, and some others figured it out not long after you did. So, yeah."
"Okay! That's really good! Can you sense your mana now, too?" Luke asked. For the moment he ignored the sense of pressure that came with the knowledge that other people were making progress as well.
I have to pick up the pace. It would suck if someone stole the mask out from under me.
"Yeah. I didn't expect it to happen so fast. I never realized that learning a technique would unlock it, either. That said, I didn't cause quite the scene you did. No one did, actually."
"Yeah." Luke frowned. "That was … really weird. It didn't affect you?"
"I mean, I felt a little happy. If I hadn't seen what happened to you, I would have chalked it down to just being happy that I could sense it at all, you know? Like, now we're really cultivators. Not just some stronger mortals. It feels good. Carim has pretty low standards, but back home, you're not even considered a cultivator until you can sense mana. I guess it's not too different here. If you don't have a blue robe, you're just a chore boy."
"Yeah, it does feel pretty good. Hey, what was the core of the technique?"
"I don't know. At least, I don't think I do. I just had this realization that no matter what I did, her spear would kill me."
"Like it was Inevitable."
"Yeah. Kind of like that."
"Did Arya say something similar?"
"Um." Spiros turned away and scanned the room. "A little bit. She was saying something like never being able to get past the shield. She's right there, though—let's just go and talk to her."
Luke looked down at his clothes. "Just give me a minute to get less gross. I came running because I thought you were in danger or something."
"Take your time. I was just worried that you fell off your bed and hit your head or something."
"And I appreciate you checking up on me. Thank you."
"Don't mention it." He slapped Luke lightly on the shoulder.
Grinning, Luke leisurely made his way back to his room. I forgot how nice it is to have friends. Even if he's a kid. The smile slipped off his face. A kid who has had to kill. It's easy to forget it with how well everyone seems to be holding up, but we went through some shit, didn't we?
He felt his heart race in panic as he remembered killing Nafik, and that guy he'd fought on the platforms. I don't even know his name. He hadn't stuck around long enough to see the aftermath of all the explosive talismans he threw, but he wasn't naive enough to think that they had made it out alive.
Mood successfully ruined. Great. Sending everything he was wearing to his inventory, he slapped his cheeks lightly in an attempt to shake the negative thoughts out of his head.
Taking a quick shower, he practically inhaled the food left on his table and walked back out into the training room, wondering who or what was making the food, and how they were leaving it for him—without him ever actually seeing them, to boot.
Now that I think about it, there's a lot about this place that doesn't make sense. Is every hero capable of making something like this, or was the empress special? I guess she'd have practically the entire island to help her with it, and who knows what mana can actually do?
The God Seed. Possession. Flying. Talismans. Potions. Random rooms full of lava. Hell, she just casually teleports people around, and she's dead. Allegedly. This building doesn't even make any sense. One moment we were walking down a bridge, and now we're here. Wherever here is.
For a brief moment, he entertained the idea of her being alive and personally managing every aspect of the trials. Handwriting every note, cooking the food, making the potions, keeping the monsters fed and alive.
Honestly, if I came back to life, is it too much of a stretch to say someone else can't do it? Now that I think about it, Nefkha clearly didn't think the idea was strange.
I kind of like it, though. Theos, the world where everything is possible. Where not even death is the end.
Of course, now I have to be worried about someone possessing me.
Eh, the Seed will take care of it. Won't you? He directed his thoughts to it, only for it to ignore him. Should have expected that.
He stepped out of the hallway and into the open chamber, enjoying the feeling of the artificial sunlight on his skin.
Spotting Spiros fighting a monster in one of the arenas, he went over to spectate. He was only mildly surprised to see Arya standing outside, with a bow, arrow nocked and aimed at a large, white-scaled kangaroo-esque creature.
It's kinda cute.
It jumped rapidly from one end of the arena to the other, occasionally trying to land a kick on Spiros, only to be rebuffed every time. Spiros was too good with his spear to let the creature into his guard, and the creature was too quick for Spiros to land a decisive hit.
"Hey."
Arya glanced at him briefly before returning her attention to the ongoing fight.
"Hi."
"Has he been fighting long?"
"He has. They're at a stalemate. From what I've seen of Spiros, though, the alburopod will tire faster than he does."
"I don't think Spiros gets tired."
"Agreed. You know, there's been a lot of talk about you."
Of course. I did make quite the spectacle out of myself, didn't I?
"What are they saying?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing too crazy. Well, it's a little crazy. Mostly just trying to figure out what happened to you, and why it happened to you. Some of the theories are kind of interesting, though."
"Really?" Luke asked, trying to seem casual, but a sinking feeling in his chest told him that he wouldn't like what he was about to hear.
"Mmm-hmm. Do you remember Xander?"
"The guy who showed me around?"
"Yes. Well, his little brother is here."
Yup. This could be bad.
"REEEEEEEEE."
Luke and Arya both winced as Spiros grazed the alburopod with his spear, leaving a long, bloody gash in its wake, tracing from the creature's hip all the way to its shoulder.
"And?"
"Well. He told everyone."
Yay.
"Told them what, exactly?"
"Oh, you know. Stuff like, when you joined the society you were a mortal that didn't even know how to cultivate. How Elder Nefkha personally brought you in after being sent on the task by the Olympians outside of normal recruitment. How you have to be the greatest prodigy the society has ever seen. I think he's claiming that you'll be the Carim's next emperor."
Right. Obviously, that's more likely than an Elder housing a wanted man. Emperor, though? Where is he getting that from?
"At least, it started that way. People have been drawing crazier and crazier conclusions. One of the people from the Brotherhood mentioned that he was tasked with standing guard over a town's recently deceased. Apparently the Olympians are looking for a thief. One whose soul escaped somewhere on the archipelago. They say that's who the Winged Woman was looking for," she said quietly, eyes still focused on the fight.
"Huh."
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
"So, are you?" She turned to Luke.
"I didn't steal anything," Luke replied as nonchalantly as he could.
And that's true. Arke was trying to steal it; I just ended up with it. Even so, I have to get the fuck off this island. Yesterday.
"I know, that would be ridiculous. I've seen the way you fight. The way you move. If you're a thief capable of stealing from literal gods, then Spiros is an alpaca in disguise, and I'm a … I'm something equally ridiculous." It took every ounce of Luke's resolve not to sag in relief.
"Even so," she continued, "rumors like that are dangerous. Very dangerous. That woman, she's far beyond the Hero tier, Luke. Stronger than anyone on Carim, and look at what a hero can accomplish."
Trust me, Arya. I've seen what gods can do. I know. Probably better than you. I've seen the destruction of an entire world.
"Power like that has to be respected," Arya said.
So, basically, don't say or do anything that will get her attention. I hear you loud and clear, Arya, loud and clear.
"REEEEEETHHHHH!" the creature screeched in pain. Spiros landed another attack. Sticking his spear into its shoulder, he tore it out with animalistic ferocity, taking the thing's entire arm with it.
"Well, there's nothing I can really do to stop people from talking, is there? Or stop them from having funny ideas. So long as everyone understands that drawing attention from powers that much greater than them is a bad idea."
"I think they do."
"So there's no problem, then."
"You know, you speak very well for someone who was raised by a fisherman."
Luke blinked slowly as he mulled over her words. She's fishing for information. No pun intended.
"I was raised by a fisherman and his wife," he corrected her. "She had high standards. Especially of me. I don't mean to be rude, but I don't appreciate whatever this is." He tore his eyes away from Spiros and looked right at her.
"What do you mean?"
"You're digging."
"And what's wrong with wanting some answers?"
"Nothing, really. There's also nothing wrong with me keeping some things quiet. My business is just that. Mine."
"Why did an Elder decide to take you in? What makes you so special? How can you go from being a mortal without the slightest trace of mana in his body to someone who, minutes after awakening it, has more than me? I've been cultivating for more than six years. It's not—it's not normal."
Interesting. So I do have more mana than I should have. Why, though? Is Arcana just hard to improve? I haven't had time to cultivate the normal way, but maybe there's some way to test it.
"I don't know what to tell you. I guess he just noticed something different about me." Like rising from the dead.
I wonder, though. I can guess why Nefkha did what he did. At least roughly. Why did the God Seed choose me, though? It wasn't like I was the only soul trapped by Aeolus.
Spiros chose that very moment to stick his spear straight into the heart of his opponent.
That's gnarly, thought Luke, watching Spiros stand over his defeated foe. Splatters of blood littered his face as he grinned in victory.
Lifting his own golden blade, Luke cheered him on silently and with a smile. His eyes were drawn to the sand as it rose up and engulfed the alburopod's body.
The smile slipped from his face moments later as he felt an arm drape itself over his shoulder and a warm body press against his side.
Does no one in this world respect personal space?