20. Lucky Loot (Patreon)

Tuketu said nothing. His face gave away nothing. He looked at Dorian with a puzzled frown.

After a pause that was verging on uncomfortable, he broke out into a sudden smile.

“Of course. I did promise that, didn’t I?” He chuckled. “In the rush, it must’ve slipped my mind.”

“That’s okay,” said Dorian, nodding agreeably. He held out a hand.

“You’re a curious one.” Tuketu studied him like a hawk. “So you fought Hento—I still did not think for a moment that you’d win.”

His smile was turning lopsided. “I made that promise offhandedly. Yet… against all odds, Hento has proved even more ineffectual than I’d believed. You’ve won.”

“Well, then I’m happy to do you proud, Master!“ Dorian matched Tuketu’s smile with equal intensity.

Tuketu’s smile tightened just a fraction.

You made the promise. You can hardly go back on it now, can you? In front of all the rest of us?

“There are quite a few valuables in here,” he said, his voice conversational, like they were having a dinnerside chat. “They would prove quite a hassle for me—for the tribe—to replace.” He looked Dorian straight in the eyes; those pupils were heavy with implication.

Is he trying to goad me into being ‘polite,’ and refusing the gift? Ha! The worth of Tuketu’s goodwill might be worth something, but if what lay in that ring truly could boost him to the upper echelons of the Origin Realm, as he’d said…

There was only one way to smooth this over.

Or, at least—sort of. Dorian called it the Idiot Defense, a tried-and-true method. One of his favorites earlier in runs. He’d used it once before on the Chief; now it was time to brush it off for another run with the second-in-command.

His eyes welled up. He rubbed at his sniffling nose. “Master is gifting me that many treasures?” He brought his hands to his heart, then dropped deep into a bow. “Oh, Master is generous beyond measure! Truly, the teacher opens the door! This little one isn’t worthy…of course, as a faithful student, this one is honored to accept Master’s gifts.”

Then he grinned the biggest, dumbest grin he could. How would he deal with subtext—especially if refusing said subtext meant offending Tuketu? Simply pretend he was too much of an idiot to get it.

Judging by the Tuketu’s exasperated grimace, it was working.

“A word of warning, pupil Io. Some burdens are too heavy to bear… sometimes, too big a blessing turns to a curse.”

As though overcome with emotion, Dorian dabbed at his eyes. “I understand, Master! Don’t worry. I would be honored to carry Master’s Burden!”

“…”

The lower half of Tuketu’s jaw gnashed together for a solid five seconds. He looked as though he were carefully controlling his face; it was blank, void of emotion, every muscle held still.

Dorian kept looking at him. Kept smiling. I’ll hold this smile the rest of the day if I have to. You’re not wriggling out of this one, pal.

Then a resigned grin touched Tuketu’s lips. “Heh. I did promise it, didn’t I? Congratulations,” he said dryly. He plucked the ring from his hand in one smooth motion. Without a slightest hitch, he deposited it in Dorian’s palm.

He did it so smoothly and so quickly Dorian could’ve believed that it meant nothing to him. That he wasn’t a whit sad to part with it. Tuketu looked Dorian in the eyes one last time. This time there was even more hidden meaning.

“There are… many… resources within,” he said slowly. “Some arcane. Perhaps too arcane for you to handle. Use them well. Should you find you wish to return any, do come to me, yes?”

Return treasures? Comedy. True comedy!

Dorian nodded. There were tears in his eyes. A very useful basic skill: the ability to fake tears on command. When they wouldn’t come easy, this was most effectively done by drudging up a past memory; this time he used the time one of his closest lovers was tortured to death in a past life. His smile was radiant.

“Gratitude, Master. I’ll never forget this!” He hiccuped.

By the look in your eyes, neither will you.

He resolved to sleep with one eye open tonight. He half-expected assassins.

Dorian sat out the rest of the training, observing the rest of the spars and performing a slow Kata; injury was his excuse. Poor Hento, though, was forced back into a spar—this one, a low-stakes bout against a bald Chosen. This time, humiliated, Hento pulled out his Bloodline instantly and mopped the guy straight out.

When their eyes met once more, Hento looked away instantly. There was a mix of strong emotions under there, Dorian could tell.

As far as he saw, Hento was unmolded clay. Despite glaring weaknesses there was still strong potential in him. Perhaps he could even be of use in future…a rare bloodline warrior —with his soft edges sanded off, of course—might be a relationship worth snagging. Dorian kept the idea at the back of mind.

Kaya was the second highest talent, but she more than bridged the disparity between her and Hento in work, grit, and sheer will. Her spars were often close-combat, bloody affairs; she was a mauler, a marauder who melted others down. Her physique, too, was top-tier—that was some monstrous strength for this Realm. He’d need to keep a closer eye on it. She’d make yet another useful addition.

Kuruk, meanwhile… Dorian would need to do something about that one. Hopefully he wouldn’t need to resort to anything permanent.

The rest were only of mild interest. The hairy one seemed wholly incompetent; Dorian couldn’t figure for the life of him how he’d gotten in. Connections? Bald fatty #1 was decent. Bald fatty #2 was mediocre. He quickly lost interest.

The practice soon came to—for Dorian—a relatively uneventful end. Major players scoped out. Treasures gotten. Potential established.

All in all, a decent start to the day.

***

Kaya was incapable of shutting up on the walk home.

“Ooh, what’s he got in there, dya think?” She was bruised, bloody, but could hardly stop bouncing up and down.

“Dunno. But I’m not opening it ‘till we’re at home, in private.”

“Phooey.” She stuck out her tongue.

“Very mature, sis.”

“What could there be? A Wyrm skeleton?”

“Doubt it.”

“Elixir of Eternal Life?”

Dorian snorted. “That’s a myth.” Well. In this realm, anyways.

“A dragon?”

Dorian sighed. “You can’t store living things in ‘em, sis. That’d lead to all kinds of issues.”

She put her hands on her hips. “And when did you become the expert in magic space rings?” She humphed. “If there’s a dragon, I get to name it!”

Five hundred steps later and with most of Dorian’s will to live depleted, they finally arrived back at their tent. They entered, got in, and tied the flaps shut.

Then, fending off a Kaya who looked ready to explode, he at last opened the ring.

At just the first items, his eyes started glittering.

“Four hundred-year ginsengs,” he announced, palming them all. “Ooh!” crowed Kaya. He licked his lips. These would make for great elixir fodder. Draining one raw was already a great boost to his cultivation, but if he got his hands on a real recipe…

She snatched it from his hands.

“Hey!”

“Pshh. Relax,” she said. “I’m only looking. Don’t worry. You’ve earned them—I won’t take what’s yours.” She sniffed it, then held it up to the light.

“It’s a ginseng, not a [X],” said Dorian.

“Shush.”

Rolling his eyes, Dorian pulled out the next item.

Items. Plural. A set of thick, leatherbound tomes. The cover seemed hand-etched, but the words had Dorian grinning.

“Excellent! ‘Cloud-Treading Steps!’”

“A [Technique] Manual?” Kaya dropped the ginsengs in their chest and dashed over. Her eyes widened. “I wonder what it does!”

“It’s called Cloud-Treading Steps, sis,” he said. “What do you think it does?”

“Brother dearest,” she said casually, “You might think you’re special stuff now, but here’s a word of advice.” She snaked an arm around his shoulders. “Never insult someone who can crush your head with a bicep curl.”

Dorian ducked slowly out of the guillotine that was his sister’s arm. “Point taken.”

He flipped quickly through, skimming the pages of each tome.

“Qigong technique…six levels… [Vigor] Realm…. nice. This’ll come in handy later.”

He put it to the side.

She looked at him like she couldn’t even be bothered to raise an eyebrow. “What? So you’ve suddenly awakened Heaven-grade talent in reading too, now?”

He ignored her. Instead, he scoured deeper into the ring’s contents with his mental sense, feeling for compartments.

“Ah…” His grin widened.

“Huh?”

In response, he pulled out a pharmacist’s worth of pills. “Ooh!”

There were pills of all shapes and sizes, and half of him he couldn’t identify at all. A good third were healing-related, it seemed. Another bunch… he picked one up, smelled it. Was that a hint of ash? Poison, he guessed. A few seemed keyed with opposing ingredients… antidotes? For now, not useful.

What was useful were the stimulants.

More than a dozen pills with a black stripe down the center. Even Io had known of these; rare but valuable pills, usually given out to tribesman as a reward for great merit. After taking one, the rate of one’s cycling would increase nearly twofold for the next several hours!

And the best part was—at risk of serious death and injury—they could be stacked.

For now he set those aside. He’d have some good fun with them later tonight. Two other pills, though, caught his attention.

If the Vigor Spirit pill had been lightning in a pill, these were starlight in a pill; silver, smooth as fluid silk, wistfully circulating the way an old, winding river meandered.

“He left Silver Heart pills in here?!” Kaya leapt to her feet. She looked like she was barely holding back a louder whoop.

“Gimme!” She snatched one from his hand, then looked at it so close her eye almost touched it. “Holy—it’s true!”

He couldn’t blame her. Usually these were only reserved for Tribe Elders, like Tocho or Hu or Tuketu. Taking each meant a drastic boost to cultivation speed; it was said that taking it cleared out all qi-impurities from the heart, even extending one’s lifespan three decades. They were among the Tribe’s most closely guarded treasures.

“This feels wrong….” Kaya grinned. “We shouldn’t have these.”

“You’re right,” said Dorian brightly, snatching it back. “I should have these.”

“Hey there. I’m your sis. Your dear, loving sis!”

“You threatened to crush my head with your bicep five minutes ago.”

She winced. “That was in the past. People change!”

“What happened to not taking what’s mine?”

“Well…. gwah…. fine.”

For the supposedly mature one, she sure could pout.

He paused and weighed his options. On the one hand, he could take them all. It’d sure boost his talent the most. But on the other, after two pills there was likely significant diminishing returns. And this was his sister…was screwing her over here over a pill worth it? Especially if—he suspected—he’d soon be capable of cooking up better ones?

“Okay,” he conceded. “You—“

She snatched a pill from his hand and swallowed it whole in one swift motion. “Aww thanks, lil’ bro!”

“—can take a pill,” he finished, one eye twitching. “Just one.”

Other than a few curious trinkets, none of which seemed to have any real value or use, there was only one unexplored compartment of the ring left.

Dorian pulled out its contents.

A foreign aura filled the confines of the tent. An aura that’d once belonged to some great living Spirit Beast, now preserved in a blood-soaked relic.

To say Dorian could not believe his luck, good and bad this run, was an understatement.

The ginseng Kaya had been playing with dropped to the sand.

“No way,” she breathed. She leaned in, wiping her eyes.

“Is that a Prime Bone?!”