Battleforged
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Chapter 185 - Stifled Opportunities & The Drive To Excel
🕑 Added 2022-09-28 04:00:02 +0000 UTCYou have failed to counter Wind Blade Feint! You have taken 1 Light Wound!
Eric winced as he felt the wave of pressure slam into his left knee, stumbling back before the cultivator’s deadly onslaught. And still Pavel refused to let up, twisting his weapon around Eric’s desperately countering blade, before whipping back around to slice open both arms before a spinning heel kick sent an off-balance and increasingly flustered Eric crashing to the ground in a heap of bruised flesh and humiliation.
Of course he had been more distracted than he wanted to admit, his arms still stinging from the madness he had embraced the night before, so lost in trance he had almost cried out when he saw what he had done in morning’s first light. He could only pray that his tightened arm wraps would hold his secret until the training session was past, at least.
Hard, disappointed eyes glared down into Eric’s own. “What do I keep telling you, disciple?”
Eric flushed and lowered his head. “Wind is different than steel. My dependence on feeling my opponent out in the bind is a weakness when fighting a master of air. For a foe like you, I need to rely on Qi Perception, not kinesthetics.”
Pavel’s glare softened. He even flashed a sympathetic smile as he helped Eric back to his feet. “And here I am, pushing you to master in days what should take months if not years to master. And only when you can summon a similar blade yourself.”
Eric shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not like I’m going to be allowed to learn those techniques or the time, so you’re right to push me mercilessly, when a relaxed approach now will cost me my life later.”
“It’s good that you understand that. Now, what are you doing wrong?”
Eric flushed. “I keep trying to meet your blade, expecting my steel to halt your own blade’s inertia.”
“But you can’t. Frankly, I’m just amazed that covering your wind blade with your blood was sufficient for you to disrupt my wind blades.”
“I can cut through them, master, but that means nothing if you reform them an eyeblink later, your blade instantly snapping back around to cut into my right flank, after I overcompensated on my left.” Eric forced a rueful chuckle. “I’m beginning to think more and more that I truly lucked out with the opponent fate put in my lap. If Scar had been anywhere near as good as you, or as quick at reforming his Wind Blades, if I didn’t already have multiple soul-linked weapons to my name, he would have surely killed me many times over.”
“True.” His mentor gazed at Eric for long moments, before giving a slow nod. “I think I have an exercise that might help us.”
Eric gave the cultivator an inquisitive look. “Really? Then by all means, let’s see about mastering that exercise.”
This earned a chuckle from the dark elf, and plenty of groans from Eric, because his mentor wasn’t holding back, either, when it came to punishing Eric for his fumbles.
The technique was simple enough. His mentor would practice striking Eric from left to right, then right to left. Eric was to counter the wind blade with the prize he had claimed as his own, then immediately position his blade to counter his foe’s reformed wind edge, three additional feet of death that would immediately cut him from the other side.
And the relieved smile Eric managed after countering three slow swings successfully soon turned to a painful grimace when Pavel’s pace steadily quickened, to the point that it felt like he was trying to parry a laser pointer, and somehow Eric found his inhuman Quickness no match for the monster of an instructor before him.
Pavel grinned with cool detachment every time his wind blade slammed into Eric’s armored torso. Which felt like he was being repeatedly struck with a steel baton with every swing, epic tier mithril armor notwithstanding. That armor and the wind beast aketon and leggings were all that kept Eric among the pain-filled living, as opposed to rotting in hell, as Pavel struck with increasing force, holding less and less back as countless brutal hours turned into days, and Eric spent a part of every night flinching in anticipation of the pain to come the next day before he could cultivate his anxieties away. And slowly, so slowly that Eric sometimes regretted ever walking this painful path, his ability to counter his friend’s savage Wind Qi strikes finally began to improve.
It was an improvement measurable as a certain coldly intent elf’s gaze became a furrowed brow that almost signified respect as a fiercely grinning Eric finally, at long last, began to get the rhythm of his sifu’s attacks, his mithril blade now instinctively flowing in perfect sync with his entire body as he grew increasingly adept at positioning his weapon to best counter the vicious maelstrom of Qi enhanced strikes.
For long moments Eric lost himself in the trance of perfect movement as fresh System messages blared inside his head.
Imperial Blademastery is now Rank 22!
Find Weakness is now Rank 22!
Unified Perception has reached Reached Rank 21!
Synergism detected! Hundreds of hours spent training against a cultivator far more talented than yourself has resulted in multiple skill synergisms and a permanent +1 to Perception!
You can now instinctively sense both flow of Spiritual and Arcane energy flowing from any magus, cultivator, ward or artifact! You now enjoy additional bonuses to Find Weakness skill checks against any practitioner of these arts!
Pushing your body to its limits training constantly with 500 pounds of armor and a sword many times heavier than any earthly dachi has finally pushed your strength from 74.92 to 75!
Congratulations in finally rounding up that wonderfully stubborn point!
Eric couldn’t help but flash a fierce smile as Pavel’s own bemused grin turned to a frown of intent concentration, eyes widening as Eric managed to deflect not only the half dozen Air Wind slashes so quickly chained together, but to sense and counter the buildup of force from a piercing thrust that would have bruised even his organs underneath his nearly indestructible and well-padded mithril mail.
The same move that, in Scar’s malicious hands, had come so close to spelling Eric’s end.
An end he never wished to face again as he blasted off his back-foot, lunging forward to bind his opponent’s mithril blade and force it off-line before continuing his forward charge and delivering a devastating punch to his trainer’s gut.
You have successfully stunned a Cultivator 18 ranks higher than you!
Unarmed Combat is now Rank 11!
A blow he immediately pulled, alarm bells ringing in his mind at the last second, terror of another hideous wound replaced by full awareness of his surroundings, the vast, hundred yard wide cavern chamber light by shafts of golden sunlight from the holes in the cavern roof arching well over fifty feet above their heads.
In other words, the perfect training chamber.
And the farthest thing from the killing-fields the forest had become, with multiple Wind-aligned cultivators hungry for his head.
Still, Eric winced, as he immediately stepped forward to help a coughing Pavel back to his feet.
“Shit, I’m sorry! I got so caught up in the moment that.—”
“That you did exactly what you’re supposed to do,” his mentor said, waving off Eric’s apology with a grimace as he coughed a bit of blood, still having no idea of the secret his young disciple was keeping from him. “I’ve been using my Wind Blade to force you on the defensive for days that will soon become weeks.” He chuckled and winced, giving a rueful shake of his head. “Your growth in that time has been more than impressive in any disciple. To the point that I would happily teach you our skills, had you a Wind affinity, once you ascend to Rank 20 with peripheral channels sufficient to allow you to safely learn and channel our most sacred arts.”
He gazed at Eric for long moments before sinking into a cross-legged position, Eric’s newly improved Unified Perception effortlessly sensing the man cycling his spiritual energy in what he guessed was a healing pattern. “I’ll be honest, Eric. I was pushing you hard. Harder than I perhaps should have, hoping to hammer into you just how outmatched you were by my sect’s… former sect’s prodigies. Those of us that have been deliberately held back from advancing past Rank 30, like myself, forbidden further breakthroughs in power.” He flashed a bitter smile. “Prodigies that our sect has been saving up like mahjong plaques to play upon the opening of any new world with resources our elders are eager to exploit for their own ends.”
Eric gazed at the man before him for long moments. “So what you’re saying is, even if your power level is 30, your actual skill level is… fuck, are you an elite tier swordsman?”
This earned a rueful chuckle. “What I am is a cultivator amazed to find his disciple can now read his moves perfectly. That you actually managed to counter half a dozen Wind Strikes and finally, a thrust designed to stun even our fellow Wind Disciples, blessed with our clan’s most valued Armor. Armor worthy of even the most powerful White Tier cultivators.”
Pavel flashed a bitter smile. “Armor delivered by a cultivator who was little more than a spirit pill-buffed fool who sought to attack not only innocents, but two potential recruits to our Sect. Shaming us, all we stood for, and, instead of strengthening our numbers by two clearly talented aspirants who’ve already gained access to this pocket realm and proven themselves able to harvest the most precious Spirit Fruits in this sector, have instead cost my former sect four valued disciples, even if we were were all merely White Tier, one of us further forbidden to ascend beyond Rank 30, let alone be permitted or granted the resources needed to one day break through to Bronze.”
Eric gazed intently at his friend. “Are you saying you could ascend right now all the way to Bronze?”
The cultivator before him chuckled, his mirth not quite reaching his cold dark eyes. “If I were to change my focus from skill mastery to the accrual of spiritual power… if this pocket realm were to become my hunting grounds, then my ranks would shoot up like a bamboo sprout in the height of the rainy season. How far would I actually advance along my perilous path? I cannot say. I have no doubt that I would make it to the halfway mark in less than half a decade, at the very least. For my foundation is now as strong as the northern winds.”
Pavel shook his head and sighed. “The problem is that I am now ronin. Free of any and all masters, with loyalty only to you, my family, and our youngest disciple who even now should be cultivating, not listening in,” he said with a hard look for a wincing Samuel, cultivating just a short distance away.
A bemused Pavel then turned back to Eric. “Of course I am no fool. After decades of being politely denied the right to advancement, while placated with resources and tools designed only to strengthen my skills, my expected role within the Sect became exquisitely clear. So I took it upon myself to be the most well-read Rank 30 in the sect library as I possibly could, without garnering unwanted attention,” he confessed with a bleak smile. “And though I have made it a careful point to discretely study all I could about Bronze Tier breakthroughs… such that, had I the extensive resources I would need and the years necessary to infuse my being with spiritual energy, I do believe I could ascend to Bronze without fear of rupturing my cultivation base. One day. Alas, my knowledge goes no further than achieving that first crucial breakthrough on the Bronze ladder of champions and those who would dare to ascend past mortality’s grasp.”
Pavel sighed, giving a tired shake of his head. “I would be a blind man struggling in his quest for power, grateful for every further Bronze rank I could achieve over the following decades and centuries. And Silver, that glorious impossible ascension that even the most talented prodigies will likely never achieve, not even under the gentle guidance of the wisest of masters, will suddenly be so far out of reach that I would be foolish to focus on anything else but strengthening my Bronze foundation as much as I could, while focusing on steady growth and skill mastery alone.”
The dark elf’s eyes crinkled in half-moons of bemused mirth. “But really, who am I to complain to you, the one who saved my life? The truth is, politics had doomed me from the moment I was grudgingly accepted into my former sect, a young man foolish enough to believe that diligence, loyalty, and hard work meant opportunities for advancement.”
Eric winced at the unexpectedly bitter smile the man flashed.
“I am no elder’s favored son. I come from a singularly unexceptional family, with no actors of influence in my lineage. And grooming me to be the caretaker of spoiled young masters eager to sup upon spoils I will forever be denied, until I crumble of old age, is clearly the only role my sect has for unwanted prodigies who had the poor taste to be born from a commoner’s womb.”
Eric blinked, genuinely surprised to hear such bitterness from a man who had always painted his sect in the kindest light, save for a few rotten apples. Not until this very moment, at least.
“So what you’re saying is, now’s the perfect time for a fresh start?” Eric quipped with a cheeky grin, earning a snort from his mentor.
“Indeed it is,” Pavel said with a matching smile. “And what a surprise it is to find that my newest disciple is the farthest thing from another spoiled scion of my former sect. That his cultivation base forged from the most questionable manuals and visions is absurdly strong for someone who dared this path for less than two months, and who further challenges fate by walking a hybrid path as well.”
Eric smirked. “I’m not going to lie. A lot of that is because we’re in a pocket realm clearly tied to my strongest affinity, with every peach radiating spiritual energies like a miniature sun. And for the record, I was rebuilt in a pod at the brink of death with a very strong connection to that singular element. So whether we’re talking Spiritual Energy, Arcane magic, or Essence Affinities, that element blazes so strongly within me that a direct hit with a certain Mark II Deathblaze that we won’t mention further failed to kill me.”
Pavel nodded. “Because you dared to use blood infused with flame to coat your scale armor.” He flashed a bemused smile. “It’s madness to think you can use a blood art without straining your cultivation base. But if you are truly capable of such, will you bind your Mithril mail to your soul as well?”
Eric couldn’t quite suppress a shudder. “Honestly, I don’t know if I’ll ever dare that, because 500 pounds of mass is 500 pounds of mass, and even with my familiarity bonus, skill bonus, and Spiritual affinity bonus giving me an absurd discount, that would still tie up an additional 5 points of Soul Reserves. And I’m not quite sure if I’m ready for that kind of commitment, since it takes me a full fifty points worth of soul reserves just to unleash one System-based weapon feat with my incredibly awesome mithril blade.” He frowned thoughtfully. “Though the nightly practice with my weapon feats right before I crash that you insisted upon to balance my growth as a warrior is helping me channel them just a little bit more efficiently. But considering how much easier it would then be to infuse my armor with the essences of Flame and Dominion, how close to indestructible I might be able to make my incredibly sweet mithril gear, armor I could flip on and off in the blink of an eye, when and where needed...” He chuckled softly. “Hell, Pavel, you’re really starting to talk me into it.”
His mentor’s eyes widened, quickly raising his hands. “I intended no such thing. And you’ll recall, Eric, I recommend you practice your weapon feats with the lighter weapons of wood and steel you’ve already soul-bound to yourself. Because even if Doom Slice and Doom Flurry are the farthest thing from a cultivator’s traditions, I’ve detected no strain to your cultivation base from their practice, and you’d be a fool not to master what amounts to a hidden skill. Because with the enemies you will soon be facing...”
Eric winced and nodded. “I’ll be needing them,” he conceded, recalling the first time Pavel had caught him practicing both Doom Slice and Doom Flurry with his saber against his lizard hide backstop when they first began their training. And though his daring had earned a curt frown and a very, almost painfully thorough examination of his physique, Pavel had actually congratulated Eric on discovering hidden techniques that might one day spell the difference between life and death. So long as it was understood that he was never to embrace them during sparring practice, most especially not against Sam, and he was to do it only when his thrice daily lessons with Pavel were at an end.
Eric chuckled ruefully in memory of how he had groaned all those weeks ago, having effectively increased his workload beyond what even he had thought himself capable of. But now, as he gazed upon the impossibly graceful dachi in his hands that he allowed to weave and dance in the air… an extension of his will, an extension of himself, he was beyond grateful that he had pushed himself as hard as he had. Taking full advantage of his absolutely insane ability to recover and refresh himself in just an hour’s time as a hybrid cultivating Classer with a System-enhanced physique, allowing him to benefit from multiple training sessions in a single day.
All of which had culminated in this wondrous moment as he embraced the weapon of beauty flowing so gracefully through the forms he had done his utmost to master, never having felt so graceful, or deadly than he did at that moment, with exquisitely forged mithril death in his hands.
“Now this beauty on the other hand I’m really, really, considering soul binding to me, sooner, rather than later.” He flashed a hungry smile, awed by how clearly he had felt the pulses of power not only from Pavel, but from his own blade as well. “This weapon is more than just exquisitely made, far sharper than any Earth-forged scalpal. It’s channeling Spiritual energy as well. Best of all, I would still have over 50 free points in my Soul Reserves, so I can actually unleash a singular power attack before I’m sent crashing to my knees.”
Pavel nodded solemnly. “You could do far worse than to bind that particular weapon to your soul, if it is truly within you to do so, disciple. It facilitates our use of Wind Blade, allowing us to unleash it with sublime efficiency, at just a fraction of the spiritual energy that would be lost if we channeled that attack directly with a spear hand strike.”
“Like Scar did when he struck me, somehow splitting his attack to blossom in my body like an explosion of deadly spikes.”
Pavel nodded. “His father clearly taught him what the rest of our sect would consider forbidden techniques. Not that I am in any position to judge any man fighting for his life. But in an honorable duel...”
“Which admittedly it wasn’t, so I won’t shame him for that, at least,” Eric said with a sigh, shaking his head. “It’s a miracle I’m still alive.”
“It is,” Pavel agreed. He gazed at Eric for long moments. “Which is another reason why, should it still stand, I believe I will take you up on your offer to dare the pods.”
Eric blinked in surprise. “Really?”
Pavel grinned. “Once I’ve actually broken through to Bronze. Which of course implies that we will have a friendship spanning decades. Perhaps centuries. And I now have every confidence that it isn’t the utterly flawed path that we had been taught to fear. You’re own unique hybridization makes it clear that it is at least possible to ascend cultivation ranks as a hybrid. Daring that path will thus grant me the opportunity to walk two paths to power, even if my cultivation can never break through to Silver. I’m increasingly certain that was never in the cards for one such as I. And really, what right do I have to complain when even the potential to break through to Bronze is a gift less than one in ten million mortals could hope to achieve?”
Eric nodded, all but beaming in approval. “So your smart and patient enough to wait till you one day hit Bronze, because who cares if you can’t hit Silver, if that was never meant to be, anyway? And with that rank under your belt, you’ll no doubt get access to some super sweet powerful kickass hybrid classes, as a System Adventurer!” Eric said with a grin. “Especially since I’ll bet the System, or those pods, would be eager as heck to poach some powerful cultivators, since I’m increasingly sure there’s some AI component to it all as well. And whoever or whatever designed it definitely meant it to be an alternative to Cultivation. Or, maybe, an extremely unified, specialized version of cultivation.”
Pavel smiled and nodded. “That’s my suspicion as well.”
Then Eric froze, a spike of apprehension twisting in his gut. “Shit.”
This earned a polite eyebrow. “Eric?”
Eric’s gaze hardened. “I’m thinking on what you said. You’re waiting to break through to Bronze, hoping you can continue to ascend up the Bronze cultivation ladder even if you’ll never hit Silver, boosted at least by an adventurer’s class.”
“Correct.”
“Does that mean I’ll never be able to break through to Bronze, seeing as I learned to cultivate as a Basic Conscript class? And before you ask, yes, that’s the dog-shit lowest of the low. What most of us natives end up with. I think it’s to keep us powerless and weak, even as we think we’re getting miraculously strong, right before the true movers and shakers of this new world order come and claim everything, while telling us with smiles plastered on their faces that the game isn’t rigged, that we all had endless opportunities and a fair start. And that might be true, if they hadn’t made us start with fucking blinders over our eyes.”
Pavel gave Eric a sad nod. “I fear so.”
Eric swallowed the awful lump in his throat, pretending his guts hadn’t just dropped with horror at how utterly fucked over he truly had been.
Maybe there was a reason why his mother, who clearly knew what was going on and just might be an old hand at this awful game, had held off on getting Eric and Elonia classes for weeks, refusing to even explain the game, let alone mention the use of the pods. In retrospect, he had thought it was just so that her boy-toy who happened to be his insanely talented trainer could drill as much martial skill into him as possible to open up more classes from the start.
But maybe it was more than that.
A hell of a lot more than that.
It increasingly seemed like Eric’s desperate struggle to get himself and his sister into those pods before they died of third and fourth degree burns had both saved and doomed them as well.
Eric shook his head in bitter frustration.
The hell he’d accept that!
How hard had he fought to saturate his Core? Now it was damn close to 99%. If that didn’t open up powerful classes he would have a strong enough affinity for, a foundation that would allow him to one day ascend up the System version of Bronze and Silver tiers, then he couldn’t imagine what would.
And as far as cultivation went, he hadn’t even known it existed as more than an esoteric thing utterly out of his reach, until he had first entered his realm. And even if all he could do was claim a dozen fruit… he’d still emerge with an incredible boost of power putting him head and shoulders above what he could have otherwise been.
A major asset to his System progression, even if he never got beyond basic cultivation.
So who the hell cared if he never managed to forge the equivalent of a Bronze core?
No matter what happened, he’d still end up returning from this pocket realm far stronger than when he had first come in.
Eric forced himself to smile as he met his mentor’s gaze once more. “Well then. All the more reason to claim those peaches, right? Get just as powerful as I damn well can, plop one in every single meridian gate I have, and become the strongest fucking basic cultivator under the sun, even if I never can advance any further.”
“Indeed you would be, if you actually went through with your mad gamble and tried to accomplish in an hour what should take you a year,” Pavel conceded, before shaking his head. “And to think, you were actually blessed with a noble configuration. It saddens me to know that you will be cut short before Bronze, but there is solace of sorts. There is no true upper limit to how far you can ascend, even as a basic cultivator. And the potency you accrue with your hunts, returning every day to cycle an incredible boon of, what did you call it, experience points? Channeling that into your cultivation base has allowed you to achieve in less than two months what should have taken you years.”
Pavel flashed an approving smile. “If this is the boon that having a quantized class allows you… I can appreciate all the more the appeal of a hybrid approach, even if it limits long term growth. Because very, very few cultivators can even break through to Bronze, let alone ascend any further.”
Sam peered thoughtfully Pavel’s way, no longer making any pretext of cultivating. “So, if one in ten million mortals is capable of breaking through to Bronze, how many can actually achieve Silver?”
Pavel glanced his way, his frown turning to a bemused smile. “Most planets won’t give rise to more than a single Silver paragon per generation, friend Sam. And that’s out of a population of billions of mortals, or hundreds of millions of cultivators.”
Sam eye’s bulged. “That’s fucking insane!” He then grinned, clapping Eric’s shoulder. “So how common do you think prodigies like Eric, kick-ass fighters able to learn the basics of cultivation and necromancy so damn fast, are?”
Eric found himself flushing under his mentor’s suddenly intense gaze. “Exceedingly rare,” he said at last. And then, cryptically, “Prodigies like him are no accident, however.”
Eric blinked at this. “Come again?”
Pavel chuckled. “Surely you must have suspected, yes? You yourself told me a bit about your mother. We already that via proxy of your sister, she is a Contender… as are you.” His gaze hardened. “Contenders don’t take chances. Every move they make is calculated in advance. Sometimes the night before a crucial battle, sometimes decades in advance.”
Eric swallowed. “So, what you’re saying is...”
“Your forging was deliberate. As was your twin’s. How else would you explain a twelve meridian configuration, affinity with multiple essences, and a chilling degree of familiarity, and comfort, for necromantic arts and blood magics that are anathema to most wujen cultivators because, according to the scrolls of my sect, it is so damaging to the practitioner. More so than any other art. Unless, of course, one has unique affinities, or was bred for it.”
Sam smirked. “Considering that my great, great grandfather’s a lich… yeah. Inheritance and natural affinity play a huge role.” His eyes positively glittered with possessive glee as he gazed an increasingly flustered Eric’s way. “And not only does this cat feel no pain or discomfort while daring our arts, he actually gets a rush from it! And shit, the power you can just taste coming off him when he accidentally fills a cadaver with so much necromantic potency that it explodes is abso-fucking-lutely glorious! And his soul doesn’t feel any strain at all!”
Sam cackled with delight. “You think Eric’s a decent cultivator? This boy has the capacity to be an absolute master of the dead. And he’s my apprentice! All the old boneheads will be so fucking jealous that I, at 16, grabbed the most promising disciple I’ve ever met! I mean, I can practically see the potential radiating off of him like a big cheerful crimson skull!”
Eric gazed at Sam for long moments. “Seriously?”
Sam smirked. “Dude, seriously. You have no idea. Absolutely none. But you absolutely reek of sweet, sweet, necromantic potential. And your blood magic… Shit! No wonder Morlekai took a shine to you. Now if you can actually keep from burning away any more of your life force like an idiot, there’s no fucking limit to how far you might ascend as a necromancer!” Sam furrowed his brow thoughtfully. “Still not going to tell me who your father was?”
Eric’s cheeks were blazing at that point. He deliberately looked away.
“So, what’s the next step, Sifu?”
Pavel flashed a fierce smile. “The next step is you go claim your sacred prizes.”
Sam blanched. “Shit, really? It’s time?”
Eric gazed at Pavel for long moments, sensing an unexpected tension in the air.
Something had just changed.
“Really? Right now?”
Pavel nodded. “Despite my oaths to you, Eric, which I will keep to my last breath, certain affinities will always link me to my former sect.”
Eric swallowed. “So what you’re saying is...”
“Multiple Wind cultivators have just entered our sanctuary. If you’re going to collect that fruit, it has to be now.”
Comments
Goldfish2
Bruh….iconic that the mother is a ice user and winter queen and the son is a fire user…..gonna be a fire king??? Keke opposition of elements….no wonder he desperately wanted to get out of his mothers thumbnail
Silver Beard
I was more the hope that if he can defeat the Guardian he could 'improve' the place by opening access to many factions. Right now the Dark Elves think it's their perview alone but if 100's more had access.. I suppose it comes down to if this area is a 'zone' or what... from a Contender/System point of view?
Terry Mixon
I want both. I suspect eating all the divine fruit will give him a better connection to this place too. Then he can kick the orcs out of the area with the gate so he controls who comes in to a degree after he passss ownership to the blue faction. Then, if his mothers lawyers confront him there, the perk where the blue faction preemptively nullify their lawfare bindings will finally free him from the blasted domination by his mother.
Silver Beard
Finally; tbh I'm less interested in gaining the fruit and more Caliban's reaction when/if he returns to Freehold. Also wondering how the Winter Queen will fair against a Fire attuned cultivator
