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[Severed Divinity] 74. Disciple
🕑 Added 2024-05-11 23:55:37 +0000 UTCLearning that he qualified as a B-rank cultivator only made Isen want to work harder. There were so many places he lagged behind, and there wasn’t enough time in the day to address them all.
After finishing with Jorin and Meridia, he cycled in the cultivation cave. One of his main shortfalls was the strength of his meridians, which he largely attributed to the number of rings in his hollow core. From what he understood, having D-rank meridian strength with less than ten rings was anomalous, in a good way. But it was still his weakest area.
Unfortunately, Isen didn’t know how he could speed his cultivation further. He was already progressing quickly.
Part of him knew that speeding through the second tier wasn’t the best way to build a foundation for the third. Ros wouldn’t approve.
In an ideal world, Isen would travel and fight monsters in his own weight class, gaining experiences and insights. But this wasn’t an ideal world, and the circumstances were harrowing. If Welco learned what Isen intended, he knew there’d be no mercy. And regardless... the tier four collision was coming any day.
When that happened, there would be no time for Isen to slowly get stronger. He’d need every bit of strength he had, or he’d die, just as surely as the Aranite assassins.
If even tier threes die, what chance do I have? What chance do any of us have?
So he cycled. This time, in a cave with denser energy. Not so much that he crippled himself, but harsh enough to be uncomfortable.
He couldn’t stay in the denser energy environment for as long, but that was intentional. He simply didn’t have time to cycle for more than two hours. He left the cultivation cave and immediately set off for the archery range. The range was fuller than usual, but to his dismay, Julra was absent.
Maybe he’s watching the wall, Isen thought.
Isen hadn’t noticed people on the wall during the day, but he didn’t think himself infallible. Odds were that many cultivators were probably resting and biding their strength in anticipation of potential conflict. The rest were training, like those on the range.
Isen focused on decoupling his breathing from his cycling, channeling shadow-aspected arrows and shooting with a fully enhanced body. Empowering himself to the utmost made his shots miss, seemingly undoing all his progress with Julra.
Isen knew it was good—necessary. He needed to shoot with more power; accuracy could be fixed. He just needed practice.
After an hour of relentless shooting, he was somewhat happy with his accuracy. Without fully strengthening his body, he’d always found it hard to hit the furthest target. Now, he could hit the target every time, though only in the loosest sense. Random chance seemed to dictate where the arrow would fall within three feet of the bullseye.
Still, Isen would take it.
When he was about to leave his archery alcove, he nearly jumped in surprise. A figure shaped from shadow jutted out from the corner, its eyeless face smiling.
“Welco,” Isen breathed.
The shadow puppet laughed. “There’s no hiding from your eyes, is there?”
Isen stayed silent.
“Come to my mansion,” Welco’s puppet said. “Now.”
Isen nodded, and the puppet disappeared as though it had never been there. Isen shuddered and grabbed the bow, making haste.
To his annoyance, even in the daylight Isen could hardly see where the building’s door was. Welco’s magic was too strong, masking everything. Still, Isen was pretty sure he remembered where he’d entered before.
He approached the supposed door and knocked. Thankfully, he remembered right. The door swung inward. Welco held it open with one hand, the other gripping a thin, sleek rod. The mage’s red eyes stared down at him.
“Waiting for something?”
Isen started. “No.”
Welco grunted and took a step to the left. Isen entered.
“You aren’t a mage,” Welco began, shutting the door and leading Isen to the heatless flame, “but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing I can teach you. The mage’s path merges with the cultivator’s at the fifth tier. They are two sides of the same coin.”
Welco sat down on a cushion placed by the fire. He beckoned Isen to sit on one placed opposite.
“I will be candid, Isen—you are well-suited for the shadow aspect, and your path aligns well with my own. You also have a relatively high chance of reaching the third tier—I’d guess at least thirty percent, which is impressive. If the other clans knew I stumbled onto a talent like you, they’d spit blood.” He laughed, the expression not reaching his eyes.
“I want to take you on as a direct disciple. I recognize you already have a master, but if your master left you to venture into a forbidden zone, there is a good chance they may never return. I am not your master, but were I in their position, I would not begrudge you finding another with my fate so uncertain.”
Isen was torn. Not because of Ros—he knew the beast wouldn’t care if Isen found a tier three to teach him, and Ros wasn’t even officially his master—but because of everything else. Because he wasn’t planning to stay. Because of Lumina Eldrassin, and everything else Welco didn’t know.
A sudden thought struck him.
What if Welco did know? What if Isen told him the truth? What if Isen negotiated something else with Lumina to get the cosmovault, so he could still gain Lumina’s favor as a reward, while giving Welco something else?
Lumina obviously hadn’t considered such a path. It was evident she didn’t think highly of Welco the Haunt... Or at least, she hadn’t. Maybe his actions last night had changed her opinion somewhat.
Isen wouldn’t make such an important decision now, but it did allay his concerns somewhat. He didn’t have to be a traitor. Welco and Lumina didn’t need to be enemies.
“What do you offer your direct disciples?”
Welco smiled. “As the name implies, direct investment in your progression. Whenever you get stuck or have a setback, I’ll help you. If there’s something you need, I’ll provide it. Need, not want. I don’t spoil my disciples—it produces poor outcomes.” He took a breath. “In short, I am highly motivated to produce a tier three, and I will do whatever I can to guarantee that outcome.”
“What if I want to leave the clan and explore the world to gain practical experience?”
Welco’s smile was unwavering. “That’s an expectation—I don’t expect you to advance to the third tier cooped up in the clan.”
Isen cocked his head. “Can you still help me if I leave?”
“I can, to an extent. It’s one of the benefits of choosing me for a master. You’ve already seen my shadow puppets outside of Eldrassin. After a certain distance, I lose control over them, but I can still communicate with you if you sustain one of my puppets as a golem. You won’t be able to talk with me constantly, the energy expense will be too high, but once every day or so should be possible.”
Isen didn’t even know what a golem was, but he decided to trust Welco’s assurance.
“Why not give this offer to someone born into the clan, who’s already loyal to you, like Jorin or Kelsina?”
Welco’s smile faded. “You’re the only cultivator I’ve ever given this offer to. Speaking frankly, the clan’s cultivation foundation is limited. Partially purchased, partially shaped by me, but as a mage, what I created isn’t perfect. If they had a perfect path to follow, I believe my A-ranks could reach the third tier. They simply don’t.” He steepled his fingers, his red eyes glinting in the green firelight.
“Yet here you are, someone who could reach tier three without anyone in the world to guide them. I know you have a master. In some ways, they’ve treated you very well. I shudder at the cost of materials they spent on your first tier foundation. But they’ve also followed a remarkably hands-off approach to your instruction. No techniques! No cultivation art! It is truly, truly... intriguing.” Welco’s gaze was almost hungry.
“Why do you need a tier three so badly?” Isen asked. “What about your mages?”
“Every power wants more tier threes. As for my other direct disciples...” He sighed. “Two of them might reach tier three. Eventually.”
“... Eventually.”
Welco tipped his head. “I’d prefer not to wait a hundred or more years for another tier three to join my clan’s ranks.”
Isen’s brow furrowed. “But... I just reached tier two. How quickly do you think I’ll advance?” Ros had told him the average time to reach the peak of the hollow ring stage was fifty years. And that was for people who actually reached it, and didn’t get stuck at a bottleneck. Even if Isen was quick, it would take him probably ten or twenty years.
But that was just to reach the peak of the second tier. Isen could spend decades more shoring up his foundation before finally making the leap to tier three.
It wasn’t something to rush, since if he failed to advance, the path forward might forever close.
Welco shrugged. “Twenty years. Fifty years. Maybe more, maybe less. I’d be more than happy even if you advanced one hundred years from now—it’s unlikely my mages will actually advance so soon. If reaching the second investiture were that easy, we’d have many more tier threes.”
Second... investiture? Was that the mage equivalent of the core consolidation stage?
“And if I do reach tier three, what then?”
Welco’s smile returned. “You’ll no longer be my disciple, and we’ll help each other reach tier four. In addition, I’ll ask you to protect and represent the clan.”
“That sounds... simple.”
Welco swished his rod. “Advancement is often considered a lonely road that must be walked by oneself. In reality, those who travel the farthest often have the most support behind them, both resources and allies. Forming a clan is ultimately a selfish endeavor, even if it benefits those under my banner.”
“Will I be stuck in the clan once I advance?”
Welco burst into laughter. “Gods, no. You’re a cultivator. My job is to manage the clan. Yours is to explore, and ideally...” His eyes shined with almost palpable greed. “Find treasure and resources!”
“So... if I bring you so-called treasure...”
Welco rolled his eyes. “You’ll be compensated. It’ll already be boon enough to have direct access. Otherwise, I’d have to procure similar materials at auction.” He shuddered.
“This is assuming we survive the coming month,” Isen said.
“I fully intend to survive—don’t forget my little deal with Allezin. I’ll keep you alive if it’s the last thing I do. Er, second to last, after saving myself.”
Isen’s lips twitched, a laugh threatening to spill out. “I am leaning toward accepting your offer, but I need to think it over. It’s complicated because of my other master.”
Welco adjusted his posture, sitting up straight. “Let me give you a taste of how... helpful I can be, if you decide to become my disciple. What is something you want to learn, that others haven’t yet taught you?”
There was, in fact, one thing that potentially only Welco could teach him, at least in Clan Femera. Something that continued to enthrall him whenever he saw non-monster tier threes fight.
“Aura,” Isen stated, his fingers curling with anticipation. “Killing intent.”
