Luke tensed as his eyes traveled between the kneeling warrior and the emperor.
"How?" asked Cyzicus. His voice was low but shaking with barely suppressed rage.
An uncertain expression came onto the Warrior's face as he looked around the broken room. Then, rising to his feet, he walked forward and whispered something in Cyzicus's ear, stepping back and kneeling once he had delivered his news.
Cyzicus's expression darkened as he clenched and unclenched his fist. The ground beneath his feet cracked, and a rage-filled aura wafted through the room for an instant before receding as he regained control of his temper. Luke was left wondering if had imagined it.
"Very well. Clite!" He turned to the warrior who had led him and Luke here. "I have some matters to deal with, and I shall be indisposed for the foreseeable future. Please look after young Luke. I promised him that I would see him reach the peak of the Mortal tier in six months' time, and I entrust you with that duty."
She bowed deeply. "I will do my utmost."
"Good. Luke, I'm afraid I won't be able to guide you as much as I had hoped. I cannot let this go unanswered, but you are in good hands. As for the tournament, I won't force you to compete, however, if you were to do so, we'd both gain much. Your advantages give me confidence that you will go far … It's right to be cautious of fame and the attention of greater powers, but do not let fear hold you back. Advancing through the tiers is difficult and fraught with danger. Cautiousness is to be valued, but cowardice is a poor response. At least for those of us who seek a place among the gods."
Did he just call me a coward? Am I being a coward? No. He doesn't have all the information I do. The lady that flicked him across the room is hunting me, and I need to be cautious. But now isn't the time to argue, and neither will I gain anything by explaining myself to him.
"I understand, and thank you for all this," he said after a moment, and half-heartedly lifted the sword and ring the hero had given him into the air. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry for your loss. I hope your grandson finds peace, wherever he is now."
Cyzicus nodded and then disappeared in a flash of light, leaving Luke alone with the two warriors. He let out a sigh in both sympathy and relief as some tension left his body. Nothing about the way the hero had acted had Luke worried for his safety, but his power alone made him feel uncomfortable. Like having a police officer driving behind you on the road, or being in the presence of someone carrying a gun. He felt bad for even thinking about it, especially so soon after one of Cyzicus's family members had died, but he was almost glad the man had left.
Frankly, a lot had happened in the past day, and Luke was already missing his time in the grasslands.
Seeing Arke twice in as many days was far outside what he had wanted and incredibly stressful, but at the same time it instilled a certain sense of confidence in him, too.
I've seen her three times since I've been on Theos, and every single time she's left. She really has no clue that I'm the one she's looking for. There's obviously something more going on behind the scenes, too. Nefkha not liking her is one thing, but Cyzicus being openly antagonistic is unexpected. So is the fact that he's so brazen in his dealing with her. Maybe Theos isn't as lawless as I thought it was.
His eyes traveled to the half-buried and formerly possessed body.
That guy, too. Nefkha was right on that front—the way the Seed implanted my soul into this body must be different compared to whatever method that guy used. His body looks like it's rotting, and smells like it, too. I didn't pay much attention to it back then because I didn't know what to expect or what questions to ask, but I'm actually alive. My heart beats, and my blood flows through my veins. Him, not so much.
Luke's eyes traced the hole Arke had left in the corpse's chest and the foul and clotted blood oozing out of it.
Still, if the guy possessing the body was a saint, which sounds like it's higher than the Hero tier, and that's the best he could do, it makes a lot more sense why Nefkha was willing to bet on me being able to help him. Still, he must have balls of steel. I didn't know what I was getting into back then, but for Nefkha to blackmail me, while knowing how ridiculous the difference between the tiers is, was brave of him. I wonder what he wanted my help with, for him to take the risk, though? Maybe when I'm a god, I'll go back there and ask. Until then, though, it's not my concern.
The two warriors talked to each other briefly in hushed voices before splitting up, with Clite coming to him and the other leaving through the front door.
"Come," she said, leading him deeper into the castle. "If you are to ascend to the peak of the Mortal tier, you have your work cut out for you."
"Um, yeah. How are we going to do that, though? Six months seems undoable." Especially because they don't know about my sword.
"That ring on your finger will be critical, and it will be painful, but it is possible. To start, I need you to constantly push your mana into it. Mana isn't flesh—it does not tire—so long as your will is strong, it is doable."
"All the time?" Luke asked, staring at it apprehensively.
"Yes. Starting now. We do not have time to waste. If you are not in combat, then you must use the ring. Walking isn't so strenuous a task that it is impossible."
"Right," Luke said, concentrating on his mana and pushing it toward the ring and past the resistance. He ignored the dull headache that formed as he funneled one torturous point into the ring after another.
As they approached their destination, he opened his status and was surprised to see that the Arcana stat had already ticked up by one, compared to what it had been in the morning.
This is scarily effective.
"This is the training yard." She threw open a door, revealing a small cluster of blue-robed men and women sparring with each other. All of them looked young, with the oldest among them looking like he was seventeen, and even then, Luke thought that he might just look older than his age. "These are the most talented cultivators in Sylcra. Like you, the emperor has recruited them to participate in the Olympics."
"Oh. I thought I was the only one."
Clite looked at him oddly. "You are not. Although your mastery of a technique does make you a more attractive prospect then some, the emperor is not so reckless as to send only one participant. Nor is the talent among the sects and guilds in Sylcra so lacking that you are the only option."
"Oh." Luke scratched the back of his head, blushing as he realized that he had come across as both ignorant and arrogant at the same time.
"Yes, quite."
"Do any of them know how to use a technique?"
"No. Teaching a mortal such a skill is arduous work, and often not worth the trouble. It is quicker and more efficient to raise a mortal to the Warrior tier and then allow them to pursue one when they have developed a keener understanding of the heavens."
Well, isn't that vague.
"I see. Will any of them be capable of keeping up with me, then?"
She once again gave him an odd look.
"My technique is pretty good—if they don't have something comparable, I don't see how they'll be able to put up a fight," he elaborated.
Yup, she definitely thinks that I'm an arrogant ass.
"I am unsure if the confidence you have in your abilities is grounded in reality, but I assure you that none of them will be an easy foe. They have been trained in the way of combat since they could walk, and I think whatever insight that truth buried in your skill provides will likely be of less use than you imagine it to be. And, while they lack a technique, that does not mean that they do not possess their own advantages."
"Oh."
"You look unconvinced."
"No, I'm convinced." Kinda … not really. I should be able to pick apart every movement they make and weave between it, and I don't see how she expects any of them to put up a fight against something like that. Does she think I have a shitty skill, or that I'm stuck at moving at a low speed or something?
"Very well. You will see for yourself eventually." Clite clapped twice in quick succession, and on cue, the sparring stopped, and the group of a dozen cultivators turned to face them. Their brows sweaty and their chests heaving with exertion, they inspected him. "This is Luke. He will be joining you from now on," she said in a deadpan tone.
Luke waved, and one blond-haired girl waved back, while the rest looked at him dispassionately.
"Where's Cyzicus?" asked a tall, bald kid.
"The emperor," she stressed, "is indisposed and will no longer be able to oversee your training."
"WHAT?" they suddenly shouted. "Tha—"
She lifted her hand, and they all quieted down instantly.
Are they scared of her?
"The emperor is indisposed, and while he is away, I am in charge of your training. Things will proceed in the same direction as before," she said, unbothered by their dour expressions. "Now, I believe it is time for your baths."
"We just had one yesterday!" the same bald kid complained.
The kid beside him elbowed him lightly and whispered, "That was three days ago."
"Are you sure?" he whispered back.
"Yes."
"Fuck."
Bath time. What the fuck?
Before Luke mustered up the courage to ask if she meant what he thought she did, the crowd broke apart and trudged their way past them.
"Um—"
The bald kid slapped him on his shoulder as he passed by him. "Just follow us. It's not what you think. I'm Jax, by the way."
This better not be what I think it is. Luke shook his head as he followed them out.
Their destination was a room with two pools, one of them full of boiling water, and the other filled with a strange blue liquid that seemed to suck the warmth out of the air.
"We're doing the hot one today," Jax explained as he stripped out of his robes.
"Why?"
"It's a way to cultivate your bodies," explained Clite, drawing a curtain between the two pools and separating them into two groups. She trapped the girls in on the opposite side, where they would bathe in the cold water.
"It looks like torture."
"It will improve your constitution."
"Are there no better ways than boiling ourselves?"
"There are many ways, and this is one of them. You will experience the others in due time. For now, exposing your body to extreme conditions is one of the best ways to advance," she said. A second later a ring on her finger flashed, and vials filled with blue liquid floated out in front of each of them. The others accepted them gingerly.
Uncorking them, they filled their cheeks with the potion inside, and then leaped into the water without much fanfare.
Snatching his own vial out of the air, Luke looked at it reluctantly before glancing back at Clite.
This can't be real.
"Fill your mouth, but do not swallow. Submerge yourself for as long as you are able, and once the pain becomes unbearable, drink the potion. Hold out for as long as you are able—you draw the most benefit from the process the longer you hold off on drinking the medicine. The vial contains a Warrior-tier healing potion, brewed to be slow acting, and it will dull your senses while keeping you alive. Only come out after you feel the effects begin to wear off," she instructed. Her ring flashed again, and a row of blue potions appeared along the edge of the pool. "Those are to help you recover after and unlike that one will heal you instantly."
This is fucking insane.
She cocked her head to the side. "Do you have any questions?"
"No. It's just that when I woke up today, I didn't think I would be boiling myself alive."
The prize for winning the tournament better be insane.