Book 5: Chapter 41 (324): Wounded from Battle (Patreon)

After the battle between Ceraline and Essalina, Rieren would have wanted nothing more than to meet up with the victor. Her recent meetings with Silvas had gone well enough that she was partially convinced that a reunion with Ceraline wouldn’t go too terribly either. That woman had less strings of responsibility pulling her than Silvas. Rieren had less to worry about.

Still, she wasn’t certain how exactly to approach Ceraline. It wasn’t like Rieren was allowed to traipse all over the tournament grounds as she pleased. She couldn’t approach wherever Ceraline had set up her camp.

In fact, when she had sent out Batcat before, the kitten hadn’t even found where Ceraline was staying. A part of Rieren suspected that, unlike most of the other competitors, Ceraline’s lodgings were located in the little town that the tournament had overtaken rather than in the surrounding marshy grounds.

Waiting after the match didn’t help either. Ceraline took only one step out of the arena, got far enough just so she could avail herself of open air, then took to the skies. Her pages fluttered out and she stepped on them to traipse overhead towards her destination, rising higher all the while as though walking on the ground like normal people was an abominable sin she could never see herself committing.

What a show-off.

No matter. While Rieren’s freedom was a little limited compared to the human participants, she had people she could rely on. Thus it was that Silvas promised he would be making a greater effort at contacting Ceraline than he had done so far. Rieren awaited the results.

Though, for the time being, what she truly waited on was the next matchups for the rest of the tournament. There were only four competitors left.

And she would be fighting only two of them.

All combinations were interesting, of course. If Rieren ended up battling Ceraline, she wouldn’t need to rely on Silvas to get in touch with the woman. More likely, she would be facing Rykion because the tournament officials would want the strongest competitor to take out the sole remaining monster in the Trials once and for all.

But if she ended up facing Kalvia… well, she would find that rather poetic.

It turned out the matchup announcements were delayed for some reason. The tournament officials were taking their time. Even by the end of the next day, Rieren had received no word, no message from the glowing orbs that always told the competitors who they would be facing.

A part of her considered if she had been eliminated from the Trials for some reason. They had taken out that other monster for committing murder, after all. Who was to say they hadn’t found some justification to oust her too. It wasn’t like they wanted her to win. Not the imperial court, at least.

But she recognized that such thoughts were borne from her old paranoia. Something she really didn’t need to heed any longer.

Thankfully, the answer arrived the next day, courtesy of Amalyse.

“He’s still not healed up yet?” Rieren asked.

Amalyse shook her head. “They’re having trouble. I’m not sure what for, though.”

“Hmm. Perhaps his injuries were greater than I thought.”

Amalyse had said the administration was waiting for Rykion’s condition to improve. They didn’t want to settle on any matches until he had recovered fully.

“Do you know if they will simply disqualify him if he cannot participate?” Rieren asked.

Amalyse shook her head. “You’re asking the wrong person. Though, if he can’t make it, wouldn’t it be the same deal as it was with the monsters? Someone else from the Karlosyne clan would end up participating.”

Rieren considered the prospect of facing Rollo. That amused her a little. Considering how easily he had been eliminated in the tournament before, it would be a very different experience fighting him compared to fighting his brother. Rollo Karlosyne just hadn’t reached the same potential that his older brother had.

“Don’t get too antsy, Rieren,” Amalyse said. “I’m sure they’ll let you stomp the rest of the competition in due time.”

“I can wait.”

Amalyse smirked. “Of course.”

The real reason behind Rykion’s condition arrived a day later, when Rieren still hadn’t received any word from the tournament organizers about her next match. Strangely—or perhaps, unsurprisingly, given his recent efforts—it was Mercion who had somehow ferreted out the real truth of the matter.

“They say he’s infected,” he said with a troubled look.

Rieren frowned. A battle with a monster and then an infection. “Infected by what, exactly? Were they clear about that?”

She involuntarily looked around again. For some reason, the conversation had reminded her of the time Essalina had barged in on them. Good thing Batcat was keeping a lookout.

“They were not,” Mercion said. “But I gather it’s some sort of corruption that the healers can’t get rid of, and it’s hampering their abilities to fix him up fully.”

The troubled look on his face made sense, especially since it was pointed at Rieren. A corruption sounded exactly like what had happened to her. Something she couldn’t just heal herself from. If Rykion was somehow facing the exact same ordeal, no healer was going to be able to fix that.

But Rieren might be able to do something about it, depending on the state of Rykion.

“Are you sure you want to?” Mercion asked when she told him as much.

A good question. It was worth considering the exact fallout of the situation. If Rieren did nothing and no one else was able to stop whatever was going on with Rykion, which was what was most likely to occur, then whoever she ended up facing would undoubtedly be much easier of an opponent.

It wasn’t like they could replace Rykion Karlosyne, an Ascendant realm cultivator, with someone even stronger.

But it still felt wrong. That almost made her laugh. Felt? She felt barely anything now. Where was this pesky feeling coming from then? Was morality an emotional sense then? No. That explained why it felt wrong. Perhaps some moral decisions were born from the ability to channel one’s empathy and other related emotions.

Sometimes, one had to consider the logic of the matter too. While initially that logic dictated she allow Rykion to suffer, most of her didn’t want anyone else to go through what she had done. No matter who it was.

Even more than that, however, she could finally see herself staking a real shift in the proceedings. That was what truly attracted her. The idea that she could change the way people thought about her, the prospect of shifting the paradigm she had been dealing with ever since her return to the Trials of Ascendance as an Arisen.

Monster this, monster that, Rieren was more or less hated by everyone in general no matter where she went. She couldn’t even stroll through the very grounds she was participating on for crying out loud. If she could still summon up her real emotions, she was pretty certain it would have been infuriating.

But what would they think when a monster healed a human? What would they do when an Arisen was the only way to prevent the scion of a great Archnoble clan from becoming a monster too?

“Can you do it?” Rieren asked.

Mercion raised an eyebrow. “Set up some crazy scenario where you swoop in to save Rykion Karlosyne’s hide at the last minute, everyone cheers, and then you ride off into the sunset on a palanquin of pure gold studded with diamonds?”

“…I was not picturing it quite like that, but yes.”

Silomene and Amalyse both laughed.

Mercion shook his head with an amused grin. “It won’t be easy. I mean, after all, I’m supposed to be a monster too, right? My social capital is sadly limited.”

“But we can convince the Clanmistress to give it a shot,” Silomene said.

Mercion nodded at her. “Very true. Avathene is always the trump card.”

Rieren smiled. They were lucky to have a Clanmistress who could still claim great social power within this hierarchy they were all bound to.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Mercion said.

“Is it about Remis Sharan following you wherever you go and deciding to end your life?” Rieren asked.

“Not exactly, but—actually yes. It is about that. I’ve been trying to get to the Aryoventos Clanmaster, as you know, and it’s not going well. So I’ve got a different plan in mind. Something that you can probably help with, Rieren.”

“We haven’t exhausted all our prior options yet, Lord Mercion,” Silomene said.

Amalyse looked between her and Mercion. “But what is this other plan?”

Mercion was about to state it, but Silomene bowled over him with a surprising show of force. “It is best we reconsider it and ensure other options fail entirely before we get into it.”

Rieren frowned between them again, but she didn’t pursue the topic. If they really needed her help, she would gladly provide it, and she trusted them to know when it was actually necessary.

When Rykion’s condition didn’t improve the next day, they put their plan about the current circumstances into action.

That constituted Rieren meeting up with the Clanmistress Avathene again.

She greeted Rieren with a smile. “It is good to see you again, Rieren.”

Avathene looked as well as one could after experiencing a failure to advance in cultivation realms. Her loss against her tribulation from the Exalted to the Ascendant realm had left her with a severely injured spirit and a broken elixir field. Much of her illness sprouted from that.

Nevertheless, her eyes were alert and she held herself steadily, as ever. One could never doubt Clanmistress Avathene’s fortitude.

Rieren bowed her head. “Likewise, Clanmistress.”

They were meeting up in the same little grove where she conducted her little meetings with Mercion, Silomene, and Amalyse, all of whom were present there as well. Avathene had only brought Oromin and the other woman cultivator whose name Rieren couldn’t recall, the one who had the green robes and aura about her.

“Are you sure you can do this?” Oromin asked.

He was concerned, and rightfully so. Rieren recalled how he had exited the tournament arena basically arm-in-arm with Rykion after their battle like the two were old friends.

“I can make my best attempt,” Rieren said. “But the result depends on his condition.”

“Then we have little time to lose. We have already waited far too long…”

“And whose fault is that?” Amalyse muttered.

It could be argued that the Karlosyne’s secretiveness might cost them their scion’s life, but Rieren truly couldn’t blame them. If it had been any other clan, if it had been someone she knew and cared about, it wasn’t like any of them would start broadcasting to the public about the affliction they were dealing with.

Times of weakness invited times of danger. Times of desperation brought on times of annihilation.

“Then let us go there immediately,” Avathene said. “I have already cleared the matter with the Karlosyne Clanmaster. That he even trusted me to attempt this is quite telling about his son’s condition so… yes, let us proceed.”

The trip through the grounds proved uneventful. Normally, a group such as theirs would have attracted attention simply because of someone like Rieren accompanying them. But they had a simple solution in mind for unwanted scrutiny.

“I had no idea they made cloaks this size,” Amalyse said, glancing at Rieren.

Nothing of her was visible from within the cloak. Even most of her face was completely shadowed. “You would be surprised what the System Shop has on offer.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.”

The Karlosyne camp came into view soon enough. Like the other camps, it existed on its own little island in the marsh. Wooden stakes formed a wall around the gaggle of tents made of white and gold fabric. Lanterns hung around the entire encampment, gleaming brightly even in the middle of the day. The Karlosyne certainly loved all their lights.

The guards and cultivators stationed there allowed them to pass with ease. Some glanced suspiciously at the large figure under the cloak, but one look from Clanmistress Avathene ensured they kept a respectful distance.

“Ah, you actually arrived, Clanmistress Avathene,” the Karlosyne Clanmaster said. “For a moment, I was doubting whether you would actually materialize your claim.”

He was sitting on a small chair beside his elder son’s bed. Clanmaster Karlosyne was the spitting image of the Rykion, just with a few lines of age around his face and mouth, plus with some strands of silver on his blond head. One could almost claim that he was an even older brother rather than the actual parent.

Age, after all, wasn’t something cultivators experienced in the same sense that mortals did. Especially not when one had become an Ascendant.

The only others in the tent were an old healer standing by Rykion’s bedside, and Rykion himself. At the very least, the Karlosyne scion was alive and awake. He was pale though, his eyes not really seeing the newcomers, though he did face them.

Rieren frowned. If she wasn’t mistaken, she could see streaks of darkness staining his cheeks. Ones that could have passed for a shadow of a beard, but not for a man with golden hair.

“I did promise, did I not, Clanmaster Rasmond?” Avathene said.

“Certainly,” he said. “But let us see if this promise of yours bears any fruit. What will you be doing?”

“As I mentioned, I brought forth someone who might have a bit of experience in the actual matter you’re dealing with, Clanmaster.”

The leader of the Karlosyne clan frowned past Avathene to glare a little at Rieren. “That cloaked fellow? From whence has he come? What expertise could he possibly have in this issue?” He transferred his glare to Clanmistress Avathene. “I hope you haven’t begun to give credence to those awful rumours…”

Avathene remained undaunted by it. “Well, we are here to determine if those rumours hold weight.”

The Karlosyne Clanmaster stood to his full height, one that surpassed even Rieren. “If that is your idea of assisting, Clanmistress, then I bid you take your leave.” His scowl was so fierce, Rieren wouldn’t have been surprised to see his eyes literally flashing. “This is the last time I will take that insult from you, understood?”

That might have been the end of that, but they had one more card to play. A card that Amalyse had recruited for them.

Rollo stepped in from behind, going straight up to his father. “What is it you want, father?”

The Karlosyne Clanmaster scowled down at his younger son. “Did I not tell you to focus on preparing for your match?”

Ah, so that was their plan. It was increasingly starting to look as though Rykion would no longer be able to participate. The tournament had to go on. So, they would send in a substitute.

“That doesn't matter,” Rollo said. The ferocity in his voice was genuine, one that even surprised his father. “This whole tournament business can go to the Abyss for all I care, and everyone within it. All I want is for my brother to not die because of something so meaningless.”

“Please, Rasmond,” Avathene said. “Your son has a point.”

“I know,” the Clanmaster said. “I am aware that my own son’s life is at stake. But the preposterousness that you entertain cannot be true. I refuse to give it legitimacy.”

That made Rollo snap.

“Even at the cost of your own son’s life?” he yelled. The sound was painful in Rieren’s ears. “Just like what the Aryoventos did?”

For a moment, Rasmond Karlosyne appeared ready to strike his other son for losing his temper, but his face had gone pale. He brought up a hand and ran it raggedly through his hair, leaving it dishevelled.

“Fine, then,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “Do what you will.”

Rykion laughed from where he lay on the bed. It was mirthless, watery. “No one ever asked for my permission.”

That was Rieren’s cue to step in. She pulled off the hood of her cloak and took a step closer to the bed. “Then allow me to ask.” Her appearance had made the entire tent go still, shock and surprise lingering on half the faces. “Will you let me help you, Rykion?”

Rykion Karlosyne had only one answer. He laughed and laughed.