CHAPTER 5: Unveiling Strength

Tunde found a small stream deeper within the tunnel and set about scrubbing the black gunk from his body, using sand to help clean himself. The water was cold and refreshing, and he lingered there, letting the events of the last few hours wash over him.

He had gone from the brink of death to becoming an Initiate, all thanks to the strange relic-manacle on his right hand. He raised it up, staring at the intricate inscriptions that usually lit up whenever it absorbed Ethra, now back in its dormant manacle form. Submerging himself back into the stream, he felt the essence from the fruit he had eaten still coursing through his body, reinvigorating him.

When he finally emerged, as clean as he could get, Tunde donned a pure black robe, no doubt taken from some poor victim of the savages. With his somewhat lithe figure, it fit him perfectly. He made his way back through the tunnels to where Elyria and Thorne had gathered everything they’d found. With his enhanced vision, Tunde could see the myriad of colors emanating from the items—some were raw meat (he hoped from animals), others were vegetables and fruit. Elyria noticed his arrival first.

“Well, you look respectable now, more like a ranker of the Ethra paths,” she said with a soft smile.

Thorne glanced up at him. “Feeling better?”

Tunde shrugged. “A bit.”

Thorne nodded. “On the bright side, we’ve found lumens—a lot of lumens. I believe that’s the same currency you used where you came from, right?”

“Yes, although the settlement rarely got more than ten lumens a month,” Tunde replied.

There wasn’t much to buy where he came from; they lived off the land, keeping the money for whenever a member of the settlement was chosen to take supplies to the great masters. Elyria sputtered in shock.

“Ten lumens?” she asked, astonished.

Tunde frowned. “Is that too much?”

“Too much?” she repeated. “That’s not even enough to rent a room in a city!”

Thorne frowned again. “Where exactly did you say you came from?” he asked slowly.

Tunde met his gaze, staring into Thorne's black and red eyes. “Across the sea. I’m not sure, but I once heard the great ones call the land Crystalreach.”

Elyria’s eyes widened, and Thorne froze. “That’s impossible,” Thorne said.

Tunde frowned. “Why is that?”

“Crystalreach? How long were you at sea before you came ashore?” Elyria asked softly.

Tunde shook his head. “I cannot say; it all blurred together. We spent countless moons—months, I imagine—barely surviving,” he replied, dark memories surfacing.

“Then it has to be them—the cult. What were they thinking, crossing the great expanse like that?” Thorne murmured.

Tunde was unsure of what they were talking about. “The weavers?” Elyria asked.

Thorne nodded. “Then why didn’t they use a nexus key?” she asked.

Thorne snorted. “Their Regent is legendary for her stinginess. You think she’d waste a key on a bunch of mortals?”

“Weavers?” Tunde asked, seeking clarity.

Thorne glanced at him. “Forget you heard anything. You’re not strong enough to do anything about it.”

Tunde furrowed his brow. “But it’s about my home,” he protested.

Elyria sighed. “What Thorne means is that you need to focus on consolidating your rank. You’re a new Initiate; your heart’s still weak. You haven’t even manifested your Ethra veins yet.”

Tunde’s face showed his confusion, evident to both Thorne and Elyria. Thorne rubbed his forehead in exasperation.

“Sit,” Thorne ordered.

Tunde obeyed, sitting down with a sense of anticipation.

“Before you ask anything, I want you to burn something into your Initiate brain,” Thorne began. “Might is right—that’s all that matters in this world. It’s why your people were used and abused. And if my theory is correct, then I fear for your existence.”

He raised a hand to stop any questions. “No questions yet. Listen and open your ears wide, alright?”

Tunde nodded.

“Good. There are nine ranks or advancement levels on Adamath, which is our world, by the way,” Thorne continued. “The lowest is Initiate, which is where you are now. Then comes Disciple, Adept, Lord, High Lord, Master, High Master, Regent, and finally, Hegemon—the fabled peak, a rank no one in recorded history has attained.”

He pointed to Tunde. “You are an Initiate. If I’m right, the being you need to meet regarding the secrets of your continent is a Regent. Do you see my point?”

Tunde hesitated. “What’s the gap like between a Regent and an Initiate?”

Elyria chuckled lightly as Thorne smiled. “Like the difference between the deepest parts of the ocean and the highest part of the heavens,” Thorne replied.

Tunde nodded, breathing softly. Perhaps it was the power he had tasted, or the memories of his lost family, but he felt his heart begin to beat faster. “How do I get stronger?” he asked.

Thorne’s smile widened. “By struggling, fighting, and throwing yourself at insane risks. It’s how anyone gets stronger on Adamath.”

“Is that how you both got here?” Tunde asked curiously.

Elyria coughed. “Mine was a nexus key gone wrong,” she muttered.

Thorne glanced at her. “Figured you weren’t from around here. Silvershade?”

Elyria nodded reluctantly. Tunde glanced between them, trying to follow the conversation.

“There are four continents on Adamath: Silvershade—my homeland, Ironthorn, Crystalreach—your land, and Bloodfire—the continent we’re currently on,” she explained.

“Bother about those later. For now, we need to leave,” Thorne said, his voice sharp.

“These savages don’t look like your average scoundrels. Too organized, too many resources. And an Adept among them? That suggests serious backing.”

Tunde stood up. “Where to now?”

“First, we take everything here. Pity we don’t have a void bag to carry it all,” Thorne said wistfully.

“Most of these items are suited for blood and bone Ethra users. Anyone seeing us with them could cause trouble,” Elyria added.

“Why?” Tunde asked, puzzled.

“Some Ethra types are generally frowned upon, depending on the continent or kingdom,” Thorne replied. “Blood, bone, and poison are a big no here. The Talahan Empire would crack down on you, and they have actual Lords.”

Tunde nodded, not fully understanding but storing the knowledge for later. Elyria tapped her finger, and a black ring manifested on her hand.

“Will this do?” she asked.

Thorne narrowed his eyes at her. “A void ring? You are not an ordinary woman, are you?”

She smiled. “We all have our secrets. I’ll start sharing as soon as you do.”

Thorne snorted, and Elyria chuckled. “That’s what I thought,” she said as she stretched her hand forward, and everything around them was sucked into the ring.

Tunde stared, wide-eyed. “Can I have one of those?” he asked.

Thorne laughed.

They made their way out of the wrecked building, the sun beating down on them. Elyria glanced around. “Where to now?”

Thorne looked up at the sun, his pale skin shimmering in the heat. “The Talahan Empire is northwards. We’re at least a week out if we move at our fastest.”

Glancing at Tunde, he added, “Make that two weeks with an Initiate.”

“It’s all sand and rock,” Tunde observed.

Thorne nodded. “And bandits, raiders, and Ethra users—factionless or hunted—roaming the Wastelands. The highest you’ll see around here are Adepts. No respectable Lord would waste away in these areas where Ethra is so scarce.”

Elyria sighed. “It’s so hot and stuffy. What I’d give to have an air Ethra affinity.”

Thorne chuckled, then turned to Tunde. “I want you to feel your Ethra heart. Do you feel its steady pulse? The power moving through your body?”

Tunde closed his eyes, nodding as he listened to his heartbeat. He could feel it—the same motes of light, barely glowing as they flickered in and out.

“That power is Ethra, flowing through you. Now, I need you to consciously push it to your legs. Slowly, let all that Ethra move to your lower half,” Thorne instructed.

It took a few tries, but soon enough, Tunde felt his legs surge with energy. He hopped, shooting upward several meters before landing. Eyes wide with awe, he stared at Thorne, who nodded and turned to Elyria.

“He’s all yours. Keep up,” Thorne said, then blurred toward the horizon.

Elyria sighed and turned to Tunde. “Keep up,” she echoed before shooting forward as well.

Tunde pushed himself, running through the dusty landscape alongside his two companions. His Ethra burned faster than he could recover it, forcing him to stop occasionally to catch his breath. Elyria remained at his side, with no sign of Thorne.

Though he could see Thorne with his Ethra sight, the familiar red and green outline in the hazy distance. They pushed on for the entire day, Tunde feeling his heart wax and wane until it could pump out Ethra no more. When dusk came, they finally crashed in a cave, damp and cold. Thorne sat in the darkness, Elyria right behind Tunde.

“What I wouldn’t give for a fire Ethra user,” she murmured.

“This is the domain of the sand bandits—dust and sand Ethra users who hunt caravans. We’d be stupid to light a fire,” Thorne replied.

Tunde sat with a sigh of relief, stretching his limbs and flicking his eyes to reveal his Ethra sight. He marveled at the golden lines of Ethra that ran through the very cave.

“Come up with a name for it yet?” Elyria asked.

He turned to her; confusion evident on his face.

“Your ability to see the Ethra of the world. It’s quite rare,” she replied.

“I haven’t heard of it. I’m more curious about the blessed treasure or relic on his wrist,” Thorne interjected.

Tunde glanced at the manacle; its presence cold against his skin. He shrugged. “Nothing. Do people name their abilities?”

“Sure. Famous Ethra Lords and even High Lords name their Ethra abilities. Some don’t live long enough to see their power grow into popularity or to have an Ethra rune user make a copy of it, but I’m getting ahead of myself,” Elyria said.

Tunde stared at the golden lines. “Ethra sight,” he murmured.

Thorne chuckled. “Bold of you.”

Tunde gave a light smile. “I think the main question on everyone’s mind is what to do when we reach civilization,” Elyria said. “I’m not sure they’d let you in, Thorne, looking like a follower of the Regent of Undeath.”

Thorne shrugged. “I have my ways. We’re heading toward Red Crown City, one of the closest vassal cities under the empire. I know someone there. Once we get there, we go our separate ways.”

Elyria glanced at Tunde. “And leave him alone?”

Thorne shrugged again, reclining against the wall. “He’s all yours.”

Elyria shook her head, turning fully to Tunde. “I’m sorry it’s this way. I don’t intend to stay long in the city. I need to be in the Technocracy before the year is done.”

Thorne whistled. “That’s a long way from here. Do you have the strength and resources to get through?”

“I have my Ethra path, and I’ll find a way,” she replied.

“Strange to see a Silvershade native go the way of the artificers. That must have gone down well with the Wild Wardens,” Thorne said softly.

Tunde merely stared between them, not fully understanding their conversation. Elyria noticed his confusion and explained.

“We told you about the cults—eight of them that are the true powers of Adamath. Kingdoms, dynasties, and empires, while filled with powerful people, are merely notable figures in the eyes of the cults.”

“Mainly because of the Regents and Hegemons backing them,” Thorne added.

Elyria nodded. “They wield unimaginable power and, for the sake of peace, divided Adamath among themselves.”

Thorne snorted. “The continent of Bloodfire, where we’re currently residing, is home to two cults and two great powers: the Cult of Baelthor—the Heralds, and the Cult of Mekrandor—the Artificer’s Guild.”

“Who are Baelthor and Mekrandor?” Tunde asked.

“Supposedly, they were Hegemons, beings unshackled by life and time. They are said to be cosmic entities, but no one has seen or heard anything about them in recorded history,” Elyria explained before pausing, a hint of something unspoken in her tone.

Thorne remained quiet, staring into the distance.

“The Silvershade continent is home to the cults of Nyathogu—the Veilweavers, and Sylvagorn—the Wild Wardens. They’ve been at each other’s throats for centuries,” Elyria continued, a touch of distaste in her voice.

“Do they wage wars?” Tunde asked, curious.

“They do, and they might as well set the continents aflame. Billions would die in the process, and that’s not good for business,” Thorne replied from where he sat.

“Unlike my siblings, I wasn’t born with a Wild Ethra path—the Ethra of forests, elements, or even soil. I was born with the Ethra of metal,” Elyria said softly.

Tunde could see the sadness and rage in her eyes, unsure of what to say.

“In Sylvagorn’s domain? That’s not good,” Thorne said gently.

“Your family is part of the cult?” Tunde asked hesitantly.

Elyria let out a short laugh. “More or less. All children born to my line aspire to join the Wardens, and they did. I was the only exception.”

Thorne whistled appreciatively, though with a hint of suspicion. “All? That’s quite the family.”

Elyria smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “I could care less. It’s all in the past. I tried my best, but you can’t change the bloodline Ethra path fate has given you. Nothing I did was good enough. So, with the help of some family members, I managed to acquire a nexus key to jump to the Bloodfire continent.”

“Nexus keys are crafted by Paragons and above. How did you get one? Those are the royalties of Adamath,” Thorne said, clearly impressed.

Elyria simply smiled. “You tell us your story and where you’re headed, and I might tell you.”

Thorne chuckled, reclining back on the floor without a word. Elyria rolled her eyes.

“The problem was, it was supposed to deposit me in the Tralon Technocracy, or one of their vassal kingdoms,” she said.

“Seems like someone messed with your key,” Thorne suggested.

Elyria furrowed her brow. “Plausible, but that’s an issue for later. Right now, my aim is to get to the Technocracy in time for the Aspirant Trials.”

Thorne chuckled. “That’s in a year’s time, and the rank required to join is Adept.”

“You know an awful lot about the cults,” Elyria remarked.

“That’s because I’m part of one,” Thorne replied casually.

Tunde turned his full attention to Thorne, as did Elyria.

“Or I was, as of a few weeks ago,” he continued.

“Impossible. No cult group would allow an Undeath Ethra user into their ranks,” Elyria said, disbelief evident in her voice.

“Bold of you to assume I’ve always been this way,” Thorne retorted with a snort.

The three of them lapsed into silence, Tunde and Elyria waiting to see if Thorne would continue.

“I was a Disciple of the Heralds, serving under a Lord. Let’s just say someone thought I was disposable, and I’m out to see his head on a pike,” Thorne finished.

“Your Lord betrayed you?” Elyria asked, shock in her voice.

“The cults are not one big happy family—at least not the Heralds. They’re prone to political infighting and such,” Thorne explained. “I could hardly care; all I know is that someone within the cult sold me and my squad out to the cult of Undeath.”

“There’s a cult of Undeath?” Tunde asked, horrified.

“Not officially, but those who follow the Regent of Undeath call themselves the cult of Undeath,” Thorne replied.

“And this city we’re headed to holds the answers?” Elyria inquired.

“Maybe, maybe not. But it’s a start,” Thorne said.

His tale cast a gloomy pall over the group, and Tunde reclined against the stone wall, lost in thought. What would he do? They all had goals and aspirations, no matter how distant. He couldn’t just float through life aimlessly.

“Piece of advice to an Initiate,” Thorne said, drawing Tunde’s attention.

“Don’t piss off anyone stronger than you without support. Initiates are like sand on a beach in the cities and kingdoms—no one cares if you die.”

Tunde wasn’t sure if that was meant to depress or caution him further. “So, how can I get stronger?”

“Well, if you were rich like our metal-user here,” Thorne began as Elyria narrowed her eyes at him, “you’d get an absurd amount of essence-rich fruits and food, as well as elixirs to bolster your Ethra heart before advancing to the next stage.”

“It’s why everyone wants to join the cults or some large organization,” Elyria interjected. “They’re overflowing with treasures that help you advance. Ordinary people are forced to fight for scraps.”

“Either that, or you happen upon these things in the wild—usually by encroaching on someone’s territory or killing them for it. Just make sure it’s not someone important or the heir to a powerful clan or family,” Thorne advised.

The future looked bleaker and bleaker. “Most people just keep training, meditating, and gathering Ethra until they break through to the next rank, but that usually takes years,” Elyria said.

“There’s always the choice of being a mercenary,” Thorne suggested.

“No, don’t even think about it,” Elyria said, shaking her head vehemently.

“Mercenary?” Tunde asked, intrigued.

“They go to dangerous places overflowing with powerful creatures. These creatures are hunted for their parts,” Elyria explained.

“Some people actually fuse parts of these creatures to reshape their Ethra hearts. You have the fabled Paragon of Poison,” Thorne added.

“She and her followers are hated across the Silvershade continent,” Elyria countered.

“Regent of Mist?” Thorne asked, raising an eyebrow. “It was said she stumbled upon the dying body of a Master-grade mist tiger—a dying one she was lucky to survive an encounter with as a Lord. Do you see him surviving even a fight with a mortal-grade creature?”

Tunde watched the back-and-forth between them, their words sinking in. “I’ll do anything,” he said, determination clear in his voice.

They both turned to him, surprised by the resolve in his tone.

“I don’t care. I mean, I do care to an extent, but the answers I need require me to get stronger, so I have to.”

Thorne smiled, impressed. “That sort of mindset will take you far. Hold on to it.”

“The journey across the Ethra arts is one filled with blood and sweat. It is not an easy one,” Elyria warned softly.

Tunde nodded. “And I’m ready to take it.”

She nodded back after a moment, accepting his determination.

Before Tunde could say more, the cave rumbled.

“What’s that?” Elyria asked, springing to her feet.

“Our first obstacle,” Thorne replied, grim.

“The savages?” Tunde asked, activating his Ethra sight.

He saw bright golden Ethra moving toward them under the sands, his sight able to pick out its shape. “It’s some sort of creature,” he called out.

“Sandshard centipede,” Thorne said grimly, readying himself for the impending fight.