Chapter 58 - With A Hiss (Patreon)

Am I really thinking of going? What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t even know if I can trust Daughter. If she’s so connected with the system, could she just be another avenue for it to manipulate me? What if she's telling me just enough truths mixed with the lies that I’ll believe her and end up being led around by my nose… again?

But there may be answers if I go, and there’ll certainly be adventures. What will I find? What will I see? Has any imperial ever gone to those islands before?

Jiran clenched his teeth, growling in frustration as he wandered the unkempt manor’s yard. In his search for direction, he found his shovel, now old and worn. He ran his fingers along the rough wood, feeling the passage of time. Eventually, he found himself in the kitchen. The pantry was poorly stocked and Sharaal’s little touches of motherly grace were nowhere to be found.

Jiran scrounged for some cheese and cured meat before retiring to his old room. It was dusty, smelled of mold, and had clearly not been cleaned in a very long time. His clothes were still there, as small to him now as the room was cramped. “So much has changed,” He shook his head sadly before heading outside, having no desire to sleep in a bed two sizes too small and filthy besides.

Still plagued by thoughts of his family and Daughter’s words, Jiran flowed through the stretches that Samris taught him, hoping to find clarity in the peace of exertion. He pushed against his body with Forcing as he moved, finding himself strong enough to overpower the physics-defying technique.

Over time, the movement brought focus, his random thoughts and doubts fell away under the strain of muscles and mana.

Enough moping and indecision! I hate this. This isn’t like me at all. I do believe Daughter’s words about my family being fine and she’s never given me any reason to doubt her before. Until she does, I’ll choose to trust her. I simply don’t want to be the kind of person who can’t trust anyone. That’s not the life I want to live.

As for the quest, Lenton taught me to listen but verify and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’ll never know for sure what any of this means unless I go and find out for myself. If Madra really is sick and somehow there’s something I can do to help, then I’ll do it. Besides, this might really help Samris, and damn if anyone needs a pick-me-up, it’s him.

By the time he completed all the poses, he was soaked in sweat. After cleaning his body in the creek, he relaxed in the unkempt grass, quickly falling asleep under the night sky. The morning came all too soon and Jiran awoke to a bombardment of memories from his aura. It had clearly felt when Samris’s own aura left his range in the middle of the night. The loss of additional energy in the air left a lasting imprint that he could somehow still detect. There was another thing his aura had noticed, and Jiran leaped to his feet, rushing to investigate.

He left me something in the kitchen.

Jiran found a letter and a sack of gold coins, both with Samris’s signet upon them. He opened the letter with shaking hands, knowing in his gut that the man was not returning.

“My dear friend, Jiran.

“You say only a few short days have passed for you, yet you have grown so much. After seeing your progress, my own reflection haunts me. The specters of my past reach through time, as surely as you have.

“You were always so clever. I’m sure you realize by now that our meeting was no accident. One of my brothers: Halithe—a most prominent diviner—set our paths to converge. I was destined for exile, with his suggestion, I chose this place. He said I would meet someone, someone who would bring me hope in my darkest hour. When I found you the day of my arrival, I thought his prophecy fulfilled. I had not spoken to a soul in a season, your laughter, your exuberance to learn, they affected me profoundly. As surely as I saved you, you saved me.

“Alas, without expectations, there can be no disappointment. I truly understand that old adage now. There is a deeper, darker version of that saying which I have come to know as well. Without hope, there can be no despair.

“As surely as you lifted my spirits with the promise of a better life, your disappearance brought it all to an end. My own expectations, my own hope, turned against me like a knife in the gut. Then the inquisitors came. If you ever meet them, do not resist. There are forces at play in the empire that you do not understand and which cannot ever be written down or spoken safely. Suffice to say, if you ever meet one, do not engage even if they are far weaker than you. Run, flee, and never, ever, kill one.

“I can no longer accept the fate I chose for myself. Your words of lands beyond the empire have brought me clarity that I have not known in so long. And so, I must go to lands beyond these walls. I will break free from these shackles I have clasped around my own neck, and when next we meet, it will be you who is shocked at how much I have grown.

“There is a ring in the purse. If you ever find the cure, place a drop of blood on the runes and I will find you. Do not follow me. What I must do, I must do alone.

“Truly, now, Halithe’s prophecy has been fulfilled. Thank you, Jiran. May you thrive, may we all thrive, apart and together.”

Tears leaked from Jirans cheeks, splashing onto the paper. He drew in a ragged breath as his fist crumpled the letter. Not knowing if Samris’s warning about the inquisitors would land him in trouble, a burst of fire burned the letter to nothing before he scooped up the purse and secured it within his shirt. The ring fit snugly around his finger as if it were always meant for him.

I’ll do it, Samris. I’ll find the cure and if there isn't one, I’ll bloody well make one. Oh, and good luck widening the gulf between us, I’m going to leave your ass in the dust!

Jiran cleaned out the pantry, eating everything in sight and donating the mana to Daughter before he left the manor behind with a leap into the sky.

There’s just one more loose end to tie up before I go.

His flight was short and he soon arrived at the old training grounds in the woods. He flew low over the trees, searching for just the right one.

[Touched Mireclaw] (Tier 4) ???

The beast's silvery fur glistened in the shadows of the pre-dawn woods. It raced in a blur from tree to tree as it searched for prey in a vain attempt to placate its insatiable hunger.

True Origin of Lightning gave it no quarter. Writhing tentacles of fur on its back exploded from the currents that raced through its body. The beast was torn from the air and slammed into the base of a tree which cracked and fell with a loud groan. Before the Mireclaw could recover, a blade of Coating removed its head.

EXP: + 1

Jiran wrapped the corpse in his aura and flew back to Feylon. He landed before an old hut that housed a woman far more ancient than its wooden walls. When Elder Mireg opened the door, her mouth fell open in shock at seeing the headless beast dripping blood on the ground.

“Thanks for that bun, Elder Mireg. You really saved my ass,” Jiran dropped the beast on the ground then, flew away with a wink and a wave.

"J-Jiran?! Hey! Don’t you dare leave this mess on my porch you lazy sack of shrelk crap!” Jiran couldn’t help but smile as her shrill voice was possibly the only thing in the entire town that was exactly how he remembered it.

The flight back to the teleportation node only took two hours now that he knew the exact direction to travel. Between his aura blocking the wind, a full belly of density, and a map that updated in real-time, his trip couldn’t have been more smooth. He didn’t immediately uncover his tunnel and enter the dark recesses of the ground. Instead, he blasted right over it, continuing east at a speed that no aura could match.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them and I’m not leaving until I see it for myself! Whatever Madra has in store for me, she can handle a slight detour.

Jiran reached the first mountaintop a short minute later but he didn’t stop. He soon passed the third peak and he heard the sounds that could only mean he was close. His heart began to race as the fourth peak fell away beneath him and he finally saw it. After alighting atop a tall rock near the massive summit, he gazed out at the famous scenery with awe filling his entire being.

As far as the eye could see, the ground heaved like raging rapids in a quickly flowing river. Mountains fell beneath the surface of shifting rocky soil only to be replaced moments later by a new, colossal monument of Madra’s splendor. The sound of so much moving ground was a never-ending thunder that shook him to the roots. Even with his ears plugged, his body vibrated so hard that his teeth began to ache.

Jiran lost himself for a time observing the impossibility of a river of moving mountains that stretched on for further than anyone knew. Stories said that none had ever crossed the Crags and lived to tell of what existed on the other side.

Am I about to find out?

Suddenly he was shaking with excitement to take that portal, to see something no imperial had ever seen, to venture beyond. Before he knew it, Jiran had descended his steep tunnel and was once more standing within ancient ruins before a pedestal that hungrily responded to the call of his mana. With eager jerky movements, he activated the portal.

[Quest complete!]

[A unique curse and a unique opportunity to learn: Activate the teleportation node to the Jeweled Isles]

[Rewards: Regional Dialect]

Regional dialect? Does that mean there are people there? People who speak a different language…

Jiran couldn’t select the option in his interface fast enough.

[Jeweled Isles]

An oval portal opened into a gorgeous view. The first thing he noticed was the completely different time of day than what he had seen moments ago on the surface.

Late day there, early morning here. Could be a completely different set of suns though. Who knows how far this is about to take me.

His toes curled in anticipation and the humming whine of the platform sounded like adventure and mystery to his ears. Without another second of hesitation, Jiran stepped through the portal into lands unknown.

Mark The Hiss

The shadows of the alley stretched unnaturally to cradle Markhiss in their cold embrace. He glided forward without a whisper of sound, hands in pockets, and posture slumped like a lion at rest. A black door with silver highlights opened before he arrived. A butler in immaculate attire bowed deeply and then smoothly stepped out of his way. The man’s movements were flawless, a testament to a lifetime of perfecting his deadly craft.

The stark contrast between the dingy alley outside and the finery of the interior was perfectly designed to throw guests into mental disarray. Markhiss smiled, fondly remembering his first visit before his scowl returned.

Calling me here so suddenly, he better have a damn good reason.

With a grunt of greeting to the butler—who he knew was far more deadly than he appeared—Markhiss made his way deeper into the grandly decorated foyer. As he crossed the large room filled with beautiful tapestries and statues, three shadows detached from the walls and materialized beside him.

Impressive, he can even hide them from my aura now. He must be close to ascending again. Maybe I’ll try to be nice this time.

The shadowy figures led him to a room that was not nearly as opulent as the rest of the building. Simple wooden chairs faced a spartan desk. A single dull lamp shone a pitiful light into the space that completely failed to push back the dark shadows along the walls. The man who had called him there eyed Markhiss as he entered the room and took a seat.

He wore shadows like a uniform. They covered him completely except for his brilliantly shining blue eyes. Eyes that surveyed every millimeter of Markhiss, looking for any signs of weakness. Their auras met and struggled for dominance causing the air and ground to quake from stresses far more powerful than mundane materials could withstand.

The three shadowy escorts vanished as the two men stared each other down. Eventually, Markhiss grew bored and quit their traditional game. “Why am I here, Abel?” Markhiss spoke in a dangerous whisper while leaning forward threateningly.

“I have two very important pieces of information that I know you’ll be interested in,” The man’s voice came from every direction at once.

“It amuses me to see you grasp at straws but go ahead, I’ll bite,” Markhiss slouched back in his chair and tapped his fingers before his face, finding them far more entertaining than the conversation with Abel.

“Have I ever given you anything without asking for something in return? Why would I start now?” Markhiss’s only response to the shadowy figure was a raised eyebrow. “The crystal key was stolen and you’re going to get it back for me,” Abel said matter-of-factly.

Markhiss’s wheezing laughter snaked through the room, disturbing the light and making the shadows dance across the walls. “You went through so much trouble kidnapping that princess, just to distract the emperor long enough to get the key, and now you’ve lost it!” His laughter turned sadistic; a ratcheting cackle that churned Abel’s blood. “Remind me why I even associate myself with your incompetent little revolution?” Markhiss stood and walked toward the door. Not giving Abel a chance to respond before he continued. “There is nothing in the empire that would convince me to get that key back for you. If Dominus gets even a whiff of my mana, I’m a dead man. Don’t bother calling for me again,” His hand reached the doorknob as Abel finally responded.

“You’re going to do it because I just got a very tasty bit of news. Something about the appearance of a young man wielding blue fire and lightning far beyond the power of his tier.”

Markhiss stopped. As if he had become a statue, there was not a single discernable motion from his body. The previous prancing of their manabodies was shown for the farce that it was as Markhiss’s aura instantly overpowered Abel’s and set the entire building shaking.

The shadowy escorts reappeared but were crushed into oblivion as cracks split across the floor and wall, revealing masses of writhing shadows within. Sweat rolled down Abel’s back as he spoke, his tone suddenly obsequious and his eyes lowered. “There is a connection between the one who took the key and the boy you’ve been seeking. Once you have her, he will come to you, I am sure of it.”

“Where is it?” Markhiss’s voice was a hiss that stretched his face into a smile and sucked the light from the room, casting them into absolute darkness.