Luke's eyes darted between the emperor and Nel before he sighed audibly. Bringing his arms up to his head, he considered his choice and forcibly suppressed his irritation at having been put on the spot so suddenly.
On the one hand, I really should stay under the radar. On the other hand, the offer really is tempting. There's so much I still don't know, and guidance from someone at the Hero tier, who understands this world and cultivating in general, is invaluable. I'm sure I can figure most of it out eventually, but the time I'll save has to count for something. Besides, there's only so much I can piece together from context in the lowest echelons of power.
Worst-case scenario, I still have seven charges left, and if nothing else, the Seed hasn't gotten me killed—yet. Using the charges runs the risk of drawing Arke down on my head, but they did get me away from her once.
Fuck it. I already know I'm going to regret this, but—
"Okay."
"Yes!" Cyzicus yelled, pumping his fist into the air. Then, looking awkwardly between Luke and Nel, he coughed in his hand. "Right. You won't regret this, that I can promise." He grinned.
I sure hope so. Then again, if things go belly up, I probably won't have the time to regret anything, either.
"I'll take your word for that." Luke smiled back at him, for the moment, at least, letting his doubts fall to the back of his head.
"Great. Agnella, drop by the capital more often. Your grandpa gets bored sometimes, and congratulations on your new steed. A griffin is a rare and powerful mount, and she will serve you well. Tell Lukeus to stop being a scoundrel," said Cyzicus, stepping in to give her a hug before turning to Luke. "This might make you a little dizzy." He tapped him on his shoulder.
The world flickered, and in the next instant, Luke was in a different spot. A large room, with paintings depicting various monsters and the heroes defeating them littering every square inch of the wall. A white desk carved from ivory sat in the middle facing a set of large silver doors.
"What was that?" he asked, turning to Cyzicus, only to see him heaving and hunched over his knees, desperately trying to catch his breath.
"One moment." He lifted a finger into the air as he collected himself. "Teleporting people without a formation in place can be rather exhausting. Even with the relatively small distance that we covered," he said between gasps.
Heroes can just teleport around? Luke thought as he fought off a sudden wave of vertigo. Blinking his eyes, he steadied himself against a wall.
"That's an impressive ability."
"It is, isn't it? Not one without drawbacks, however, and not one that's entirely mine," said Cyzicus, his breath now coming more evenly.
"It's not?" Luke asked.
Learning more already.
"No, this particular power comes with being an emperor. One of the more useful perks of the position."
"Oh … I'm not sure what that means."
"Some other time, Luke. For the moment, we have a lot of work to do if we want to push you to the peak of the Mortal tier. Especially as we only have six months." He straightened his posture and, with a few quick strides, threw open the doors. "Come."
"I—" Luke said, before stopping himself and following after the emperor. He resolved to talk about his enrollment in the Olympics some other time.
Walking down the corridor, he couldn't help but be impressed by the opulence. With silver furnishings, white marble, and fancy paintings, all of which were illuminated by tasteful skylights and some sort of magic-powered lamps, it really was a home befitting an emperor. A welcome change in scenery from the poorly lit cobblestone floors and moss-covered walls of the Hero's Tomb, which Luke had grown used to, and a large step up from bumming in the wilderness.
"Where are we going?"
"First, we're going to get you a manasink. They're one of the few things that will help you cover the distance between mortal and warrior, and quite useful, even outside training."
"What's it for?"
"You'll see in a minute," he responded curtly, nodding and smiling as they passed by a small group of white-robed women. "We'll also need to get you some blue robes."
Luke waved at them awkwardly as they directed curious glances toward him.
"Already?"
"It may be sooner than normal, but with your mana sense unlocked, it's only a matter of time anyway," he explained, stopping in front of a pair of random doors deep in the halls of his castle. Resting his hands on them, they flashed silver before swinging open.
"This is my armory. Everything you see here, you can earn." Cyzicus ushered him in.
It was a large room, and it put the hero's own trophy room to shame. Like hers, there was a wide assortment of objects all floating above their own pedestals, everything from swords to pieces of armor and bottles of pills.
Not as many eggs, though, Luke thought as he stepped in.
"Earn them?"
"Yes. By killing giants. I exchange merits earned by killing them for items in this room."
"I see."
"Over the centuries I've discovered that there is little that moves the hearts and fans of the greed of cultivators other than treasure. Of course, it's only fair that those who risk life and battle on my behalf be fairly compensated," he said, walking down an aisle and coming to a stop in front of a pedestal, floating above which was a golden signet ring.
Snatching it out of the air, he flung it toward Luke.
Tracing its path through the air, he caught it deftly—surprising himself as he did.
I can't believe that up until a few months ago I used to drop everything anyone ever threw at me, and now it's easier than breathing.
"Put that on and send your mana into it," Cyzicus instructed, walking deeper into the room as he did.
Briefly agonizing what finger to put it on, Luke settled on the middle finger of his left hand and grinned when it resized to fit him perfectly. Inspecting the way it looked on his hand, he nodded approvingly.
I never really thought of myself as a guy who wears jewelry, but it looks nice, he thought as he admired the ring. Bringing it close to his face, he observed the glyph carved on its face—a circle with a square inside it.
Then, doing as Cyzicus instructed, he channeled his mana toward it, only to be rebuffed by some invisible force. Frowning, he tightened his mental grasp on his mana and pushed harder and harder until he finally managed to send a single point's worth into it. A process that left him with an ache pulsing in his head.
"Did you manage it?" the emperor asked, walking back toward him and inspecting a large, four-foot-long greatsword. Which, with the exception of being a foot longer, and lacking a blue jewel encrusted in its pommel, looked nearly identical to Luke's own sword.
"I did. Why is it so hard? Sending mana into my boots is way easier than this."
"It's supposed to be," he said, casually cutting the air with the sword and smiling as a torrent of hot air buffeted through the room. "The ring is a manasink. It's meant to train something the scholars call Arcana."
Coincidence? I think not.
"What do you know about cultivating past the midstage of the Mortal tier?"
Luke scratched his chin as he considered what to say before answering. "Not a lot, honestly. I didn't learn to sense mana all that long ago, only when I figured out the technique and someone advised me to let my body cultivate naturally until it reaches saturation, whatever that means."
"Whoever told you that did you a great favor. Cultivating aethereal mana manually is a must for most people, but you should never do it at all. Honestly"—he paused as if he was carefully choosing his words—"it's a poor way to cultivate mana."
"Really? How come?"
"It's quite simple—they don't know what they're doing. Your body is a complicated machine, and unless you understand it well, tinkering with it does more harm than good. When your body naturally processes mana, it does so with precision that a human mind is incapable of achieving. It works, but the work done is of an inferior quality. It lacks depth and stability."
"I don't get it, then. How are you supposed to cultivate if your body reaches its limit?"
"By using a manasink, of course," the emperor replied cheerfully. "Without one, when you expel your mana from your body, you face no resistance. If you empty your reserves countless times, your mana will grow more vivid and robust, but you'll die before it reaches the threshold to the Warrior tier. The act of expelling your mana into the air just isn't strenuous enough. Items like your boots are better for improving your Arcana, but not by a lot. Items like that ring are designed to give resistance, and when your mana faces resistance, it grows. Unlike your body, however, your mana never gets saturated, so you can improve it with this method indefinitely. As you improve your Arcana, the innate potential of your body rises, and as such, it will never get saturated. Hence, if you improve your Arcana, you never have to rely on the other method at all."
"Then all those people improving their bodies with mana are just doing it wrong?" Luke asked incredulously.
Did I fuck up big-time by spending points on anything other than mana? Luke thought worriedly. No, surely the Seed is better at distributing mana than the average Mortal-tier cultivator. I've seen how intricately it moves mana when I spend stat points. Still, it's not something I should leave to chance. I'll have to figure out some way to test it.
Cyzicus frowned. "Not exactly. If you can advance to the Warrior tier, then most if not all of your fumbling can be washed away with some diligence. It's not ideal, but it is possible. When you ascend to a higher tier, the innate potential of your body rises, and your saturation point rises far beyond the mortal limit. If you exercise dutifully, then, like packing sand between rocks, you can account for your deficiencies."
"That's something, I suppose. So you're saying that I should use the ring to push my Arcana, and raising my Arcana will raise the saturation point on my body, so just regular exercise will be enough? Meaning that I won't ever have to worry about dissolving aethereal mana with my own?"
"Correct." He beamed. "Any other questions?"
"Yeah. I've talked to people in the past about cultivating, and they said that they focus on specific attributes. Like strength and speed. How does that work?"
Cyzicus drummed his fingers along the edge of his blade as he thought about the question before finally answering with some hesitancy.
"There are certain limits that, once crossed, trigger a reaction in the very fabric of our reality. Like water, once boiled, evaporates into steam, or if cooled, turns to ice. Mana behaves similarly, but not exactly the same. Once certain thresholds are crossed, its nature changes. As for your question, it is hard to answer. Our bodies are whole, but they consist of different systems. Improving even one of those systems with mana past a certain point will change the nature of mana in your body. However, mana isn't quite that simple. Its nature is spiritual as much as it is physical. It's why withholding knowledge of it from the general public is so effective in preventing them from cultivating. If they do not know that it exists, then no matter how hard they push themselves physically, it will never accumulate in their bodies."
"You're saying that belief impacts how well someone cultivates, or if they cultivate at all?"
"Precisely." He beamed.
Sounds like hoo-ha, but it is magic, so who am I to judge?
"Why are mortals prevented from cultivating?" Luke asked suddenly. It was something that he had been curious about for a long time, and the answers he had received from the Inner Disciples had never really sounded convincing. Until now, though, he always had greater concerns than to argue about the merits of everyone cultivating or not.
As an annoyed expression made its way onto Cyzicus's face, though, Luke wondered if he should have even asked.
"The answer to that is," he said, sarcasm oozing out of every pore in his body, "that it's dangerous for there to be too many cultivators. The real reason is that the divines rule Theos, and they are afraid to loosen their grasp on it. In many ways, those who ascend past the Mortal tier, and each tier above it, are a problem of numbers. By limiting the number of those that cultivate, and by ensuring that those that do cultivate do so inefficiently, the number of those who can rise to challenge them will be fewer."
"Oh," Luke said as everything clicked in his mind.
People in power want to stay in power. I should have guessed.
"Right. Here, take this, too." He suddenly extended the pommel of the sword he was holding. "Your sword is tacky rubbish. If you want to wield a weapon made of gold, at least use one with some half-decent enchantments."
Well, this is awkward, Luke thought, clutching the pommel of his sword.