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TtHSF37 – Doubt Brings the Whirlwind 1
🕑 Added 2019-09-04 22:16:29 +0000 UTCWords mean nothing. Supplication is for the weak and the unworthy. Chaos accepts no oaths and expects no loyalty. It is worshipped through action and sacrifice. It frees instead of binds. Seize that which you desire and cast aside that which holds you back. Let it burn. Let it die. Then, chaos will aid you. Then, chaos will know you. – The ravings of a madman about to be put to death for murder.
Verus awoke with a start. Soft blankets shifted as he sat up and looked around. At first, he was confused as to where he was, but then his surroundings came into focus. He was on a bed in an infirmary. He recognized the white sheets, herbal smell, and simple décor. He must have been taken here after blacking out. The last thing he remembered was searing flames…
Glancing down, Verus was relieved to see that he didn’t appear horribly burned or even injured. He was feeling a little stiff though, and his thoughts were still groggy from waking up.
Looking up, Verus saw that the slim bed he was occupying was one of six in a row, and each bed contained a disciple in a medical gown that was rousing themselves. The unlikely timing of this perplexed him for a moment, until someone coughed to get attention. Turning, Verus saw two people standing nearby. One of them was a matronly woman in a grey robe that marked her as a medical worker, while the other was Elder Lamar. Verus had last seen the bearded old man when he’d escorted the disciples to the portal that led to the Algorian Reaches.
“Good, you’re all awake,” the infirmary worker told all the disciples. “We’d been keeping you unconscious while we tended to your injuries, but now the elder wants to speak to you.”
There was a shuffling noise as everyone turned to look at Elder Lamar, whose expression was neutral and stiff.
“Each of you was injured and knocked out during the fight at the base of the Heaven and Earth Array two days ago,” the elder explained. “The warding amulets you were given kept you stable until the competition was over and then the sect retrieved you.”
There was a pause as the Elder briefly looked all the disciples over with a furrowed brow that conveyed disappointment. “Your group was unable to defeat the disciples from the Crimson Lotus Sect, and they claimed the prize in the end. Still, some of you managed to make noticeable gains in your cultivation, so you aren’t complete failures and can still be useful to the sect. The real prizes will be at the upcoming tournament, this was merely a training exercise. Each of you must continue to train your hardest and then perhaps you will get a chance to honor the sect at the upcoming tournament. Do not slack off. The sect has no places for failures.”
That said, the elder turned and walked out into the hallway, where he began talking with someone out of sight. The medical worker then informed everyone that they were all healed and could leave.
Verus climbed out of his bed and scanned the room again. He didn’t see Warin anywhere, so he walked over to medical worker. “Pardon me, but I don’t see my sect brother Warin here, and I’m sure that he was injured at the same time as me. Could you tell me where he is?”
“I’m not aware of that information, but let me see if someone else is,” the woman replied before walking out of the room and returning a moment later with a man in the same medical robe as her. He was holding a scroll.
“What was the full name of the disciple you’re looking for?” the man asked.
“Warin Windward,” Verus replied. Like all the other orphans raised by the Great Wind Sect, they’d both been given that surname.
The man unfurled the scroll and looked it over for a few seconds before grimacing as if he’d seen something he didn’t like. Verus tensed, suddenly afraid, as the man looked up and gave him a compassionate look that did nothing but make Verus feel worse.
“I’m afraid you friend didn’t make it,” the man explained in an authoritative voice as Verus felt his guts twist painfully from the shock of the words. They tore into him. He couldn’t comprehend them right away. His mind refused.
Reeling back. Verus felt his entire world wobble. “How? I tried to shield him! I was in front. I should have been the one to die. Not him!”
The healer sighed regretfully and glanced back down at the scroll again. Verus began shivering as he waited for the man to say something, anything. He suddenly felt dreadfully cold.
“It seems his wounds and burns weren’t the cause of your friend’s death,” the healer said as he met Verus’s gaze. “Rather, there was a complication with his ki that caused a backlash when the healers tried to treat him. How unusual. It seems his body rejected both his own ki and that of the healer.”
Verus’s didn’t reply. He simply stood there. Overwhelmed and numb.
Elder Lamar walked beside the healer and glanced at the scroll. The old bearded man frowned as he read. “A reaction like that is highly unlikely in any disciple talented enough to be invited to the main sect. It’s usually a sign of substandard ki manipulation abilities. Standards must really be slipping if he made it this far. It seems he was already approaching the limit of his cultivation.”
Every word was like a stab to Verus’s heart. He wanted to yell at the elder, and defend his friend, but he bit his tongue instead. Suppressing his emotions and desires was second nature to Verus, and this was an elder. Offending him would be incredibly stupid and gain him nothing.
The elder studied Verus’s expression and snorted rudely. “Your friend was hardly the only casualty. Half a dozen more promising disciples perished during the training exercise. The artifacts you were given had basic lifesaving functions, but they could hardly protect you from every danger that exists out there in the Reaches. Without the danger, you’d have never advanced as far as you did. Indeed, I have no doubt that some of the fatalities were of disciples you defeated and weakened.”
These words failed to trigger a response from Verus, so Elder Lamar lost interest and wandered back out of the room.
The Healer frowned disapprovingly at the elder’s back before turning to Verus. “My condolences. May the Archon guide his soul.”
Numb, Verus unthinkingly repeated the prayer back.
“I’ll give you a moment alone,” the healer then said before leaving.
A few minutes later, a medical worker showed up to help him get dressed and escort him out of the infirmary.
“I strongly suggest you talk to a Lightbringer,” the matronly woman told him as she met his gaze. Verus nodded, so she let him walk out the door and begin walking mechanically through the sect.
He barely registered his surroundings or the fact that he was back at the main temple. He simply kept walking. He didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. The idea of his friend being dead was hard to contemplate and believe. He expected Warin to walk up and declare it all a mistake. He’d always been there with a smile, throughout all of Verus’s life.
Worst of all, Verus couldn’t shake the feeling that Warin’s death was his fault. He’d desperately tried to defend his friend, but Warin had only been there because of him. His sect brother had only come to the main temple to help Verus, and he’d only been able to because Verus had helped him out. Elder Lamar’s words about Warin having substandard ki manipulation abilities had cut Verus deep. Had helping Warin and dragging him along been the right thing to do? Or, had he only done it because he was selfish and a terrible friend?
Verus found himself walking out of the sect grounds and onto the city streets, which suited him fine. He didn’t want to be around the sect at the moment anyway. Holding back tears, he glanced at the nearby buildings. The empty streets and silent homes of the cultivators failed to console him though, so he headed out into the city proper.
There, the press of noise of the crowds was at least a distraction, although he soon began to grow skittish and jumpy as one of his moods began to creep over him. Paranoia started to twist every face he saw into leers and snarls, and an overwhelming desire to hide away from people’s judging gazes watched over him, twisting his guts further.
Suppressing a series of shivers that crawled up his spine, Verus stayed firm and kept his back straight as he studied the crowd and resumed his walk. He refused to avoid their gazes and he wasn’t going to give in now. That was the last thing Warin would want. He’d stay strong for him. His friend had always urged him on and helped him when he was at his worst.
By himself and in his simple robes, Verus didn’t stand out from the crowd too much, and most mortals and commoners ignored him. Verus studied them as they went on with their lives, buying food and heading to and from work. They greeted their neighbors and most of them looked content and relaxed. There were no beggars in sight, for the empire was rich, and the guards didn’t tolerate such things. Work and a bed could be found for anyone that needed it.
It was a very different life from that of a cultivator. Verus watched a woman in a modest dress and jacket lead her two young children down the street. He could only imagine their lives. His own was a never-ending struggle for ki and insight with no time for the simple pleasures of family the way commoners understood it. Never could he be content or indulgent. He was supposed to be a servant of the empire and to fight for it so that people like these could live in peace and plenty.
If he gave up his ambition and cultivation, could he live like these mortals? Their lives were short in comparison to even lower Realm cultivators, but it was easier in many ways. The lives of mortals in the empire were very controlled and it was almost impossible for them to accrue any real power. Cultivators filled all the important offices and held far more wealth than even the most successful mortal merchant. Even the most basic cultivation resources cost far more than a mortal could afford, but they also had no need for such things. They were kept safe and happy by the empire. Still, Verus doubted he’d be happy in such a life.
Truthfully, he enjoyed the life of an ascetic and felt no real desire to leave it. He took pride in resisting temptation and developing his discipline and insight. They were far more rewarding and meaningful to him than any indulgence or temporary pleasure of the flesh. Verus clenched his left fist as it hung at his side. True freedom was never free. It had to be earned. This was something he’d long ago learned while struggling to control his fear and dark moods. They held him back and tormented him, but in the end, he’d grow stronger and be free of them.
Was he really on the right path for that though? Did he need to struggle and fight in the Great Wind Sect to become an elder. He was no longer so sure. The sect now seemed like a dark place to him, full of malice and flaws. It wasn’t at all the bastion of devotion and self-improvement he’d expected. Rather, everyone there seemed to be seeking power for its own sake, which was another kind of temptation. The sect was also responsible for Warin’s death…
Glancing about, Verus saw the spires of a devotary off in the distance, so he gathered his resolve and headed for it. Despite his determination, the dark mood hadn’t passed and Verus was beginning to grow nauseous and feel weak. He needed to get away from the crowds for a moment, and that’s where he’d been told to go anyway. Perhaps they’d have the answers he was looking for.
The warrior seemed to have little interest in anything besides fighting, so it was of no help. However, as Verus walked and concentrated on his self-control, something else reacted. The void ki within him began to hum and vibrate faintly with insight. He recalled some of the last moments before being pulled from the mirror. Solace. The final ending and the endless. These insights pushed back against Verus’s fear a little, numbing them.
Still feeling sick and alone, Verus sobbed and wiped stinging tears from his eyes. It seemed like he’d finally taken a real step toward being free of his curse. He could truly see the path toward overcoming it now, even if the end was distant. With all his heart, he wished he could thank Warin. His friend had always been there for him. He owed him so much…
Suddenly, Verus legs gave out and he collapsed onto the stone steps before the devotary. Holding back a sob, he finally lost control of his emotions and grief tore through him. What was he supposed to do now?
Comments
NoodleGod
Too close to home for me....
Wolven
Really loving the actual losses he is suffering unlike most cultivation novels were they seem indomitable unless the person is 2 or more levels above them only to have a deus ex machina with zero repercussions.
