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233 - Matters of Perspective Pt. 2 [Sturmblitz]
🕑 Added 2023-05-17 18:09:27 +0000 UTC“Cleaverlight, then! I’ve lost legs to unorthodox bastards with cleavers!” Hedan exclaimed in frustration. “Does she not- Hold on. Has she simply made no effort to develop swordlight at all?”
“Now you understand. Why bother with swordlight when you already have a weapon with the range of a flying sword? The Dao of the Gun and the Cultivation Dark Age she was born into both precluded her from adopting the idea of a blade as a ranged weapon in the traditional sense. As far as I know, she has never been seen without that gun on her arm or that cleaver in hand. It makes even more sense when you look at the form she chose for her blade. Not only is it a cleaver, it is now a whip, a rope dart, it is six flying swords, it is a meteor hammer! Only Sagruhel's Mercury Blade comes to mind as a blade with such breadth of adaptability, but this is not a liquid-metal sword.”
“I have seen swordlight techniques adapted for use with whips of all sorts, even meteor hammers in some cases, but this…”
“She could likely perform an Eight Trigram Eradication with one-fifth of the spiritual effort normally required. It is no wonder that it was her who caused Tian Feng to renege on his Cultivation Suppression Edict. Now tell me, brother. What sort of creature cultivates guided by instinct and environmental factors? What sort of savage thing becomes wise while retaining the capacity for savagery?"
"...A cultivator-beast. Are you trying to insinuate that she arrived at cultivation in the same manner as an animal?"
"In the same manner as ancient man, but your guess was close enough. Do not forget that we have evidence of human cultivation practice far predating any mention of "flying ships of living gold”."
"But she went into a Dungeon-"
"After surmounting a self-invoked Tribulation from the Living Storm and forging a Storm-soul foundation, again, without being consciously aware of what Storm-soul cultivation was. That is not even accounting for simply being able to perform Fog-breathing from the earliest point of my observation, from the moment she was born if her own accounts are to be believed. It lines up perfectly with my theory regarding ancient man's primeval ur-cultivation practices, and the gradual atrophy of mankind's baseline cultivation due to transition to from hunter-gatherer to agrarian societies... Or purposeful suppression by a more advanced civilization. Perhaps the same civilization which is so often conflated with the Dead Gods in continental creation myth, despite evidence of the Golden Ship Civilization being far younger than the Deicide. There is also the possibility that Mankind was in a cultivational and technological state comparable to the Golden Ship Civilization prior to some armed conflict, but... That is nothing but conjecture on my part. Any of these theories is equally plausible."
"Barely plausible at all, sure."
The two of them would remain for a short time after this, continuing their in-person observation. They would return in the guises of merchants as part of the southbound caravan which would ferry most of the Newman Sect's spoils from Eisengeist; half as a means of traveling to Willowdale without rousing suspicion, and half in order to ensure the caravan would actually reach the city unimpeded. Wodan could've done it himself, but he had browbeaten Hedan into tagging along so that his brother would have no choice but to see the stark differences in development across Ikesia with his own two eyes. The artificial storms and bioweapons Hedan had unleashed to block the Long Road were long gone by now, of course, as Wodan had forced him to do away with them during their journey to Oasis City.
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In a private subterranean chamber beneath the Bjorn longhouse complex, Jorfr sat face to face with Fryg and Yvonne, a stone-carved ritual bowl the only thing between them, water swirling inside it. He placed his left hand into the bowl.
The Ice Witch held her hand out over it, and its surface froze into glass, and peering into this mirror, she performed divination upon him.
“It appears that your physical state has stabilized for the time being,” Fryg said. The reason for this checkup was simple; the physical changes he had undergone during the Blood Feud were significant enough, but the huge mane of hair had half vanished, leaving behind a nonetheless significant replacement. The living ice which replaced his missing flesh continued to change, becoming opaque, and soon becoming subtle enough that sometimes even he forgot his entire right arm was made of it.
“As for your traits, you no longer possess the Core of Earthly Ice,” his mother said. He could’ve just checked himself using his Tablet, but this was the way he was familiar with, and he harbored a strong dislike for the feeling of an attribute-reader’s silver tendril going up his arm. She was obviously just saying it this way to mess with him, going by the expression on her face and by one other factor, which he brought up in response.
“Explain. I clearly have not lost the power, and I feel my connection to the earthly spirits more clearly than ever,” Jorfr said, raising his hand. The ice which made up the limb blended nearly perfectly with his natural skin tone, only betrayed by its subtle shine. He closed his fist, and, flowing down from his shoulder, the pale shade suddenly became like a glacier’s abyssal blueness. He released, and the arm returned to its previous colour.
“The Core of Earthly Ice merged with your being, there is no longer a distinction. You ought to know what this means.”
“I broke through to the next stage of monadic cultivation. I wonder when, or whether it was a single moment of breakthrough at all…” Jorfr pondered. He was fairly certain that it was most likely the moment of his death and resurrection, but there were enough plausible alternatives to make him consider them.
