Chapter 13

The ones who stayed watched the ones who left with mixed emotions. Some brief whispered arguments broke out as cliques broke apart. The prevailing emotions, however, were a strange mix of derision, relief, and, surprisingly, envy. Those who remained were simultaneously looking down on the people leaving, happy about the lack of competition, and jealous that the people leaving were able to walk away from the opportunity. After all, how could those leaving be content with remaining as weak as they were, or were they confident enough in their ability that they didn't feel the need to risk their lives in the tomb?

Luke winced as he took in the sight of those that remained. Many of them looked to be in their late teens to their midtwenties, and a quarter of them were wearing blue robes. He wasn't quite sure how strong Inner Disciples were, but he remembered the ease with which Laxas and Arya had culled the harpies. Their arrows flew both true and with power as they struck down one bird-woman after the other. Now he was their competition, if not their enemy.

"All right." Irila waved her hand, and with a flash of a ring on her finger, a large red carpet appeared on the stage behind her. "I'll carry everyone on this." She looked over at the crowd. "Try not to fall off."

All right. Aladdin style. I kinda like it.

Luke ambled onto it with the rest of the crowd, slightly enjoying the looks of confusion on their faces. For once, he knew what was going on and they didn't. Settling into a spot near the middle, he sat down, crossing his legs as he did so. Idly, he adjusted his sack full of supplies.

"Why am I not surprised to see you here?" Turning around, he was surprised to see Arya.

"I'm not sure." He looked at her strangely as she sat down next to him. "Are you looking forward to the tomb?"

"Not particularly. I didn't plan on joining the expedition. These kinds of things tend to pay off, but not many return from them."

"These kinds of things?"

"Inheritances," she clarified. "Cultivators tend to die without families, so they leave their belongings trapped within tombs."

"And that's common?" Luke raised his eyebrow.

"More than you'd think. Normally it's a warrior's tomb. There are hundreds of them scattered around just in the province, and some disciples make it their mission to find them and get their hands on the treasures within. There's always some buzz about one every year or so, although I've never participated."

"Why now then?"

"A hero's tomb is much, much more tempting than a warrior's tomb. Besides, I'm strong enough now that I feel I won't be cannon fodder." She looked at him disapprovingly.

Luke shrugged his shoulders. "No risk, no reward."

"Well, for what it's worth, I hope you don't die."

"Me, too." Luke frowned. "This might sound dumb, but what would you say to teaming up? Having someone watch your back has got to be worth something, even if it's me."

"I'm not against it, but …" She trailed off.

"Am I too weak?"

"It's not just that. How would we split what we find?"

Luke rubbed his chin. He only really needed one thing, and that was the mask, but he couldn't say that to her—at least not without clueing her in to the knowledge that he knew more about what was coming than he should. Even if it was barely more than she herself did.

"I'm mostly here for the experience. If there's anything useful to developing my mana-sense faster, then I would like to have that, but aside from that, you can have first pick on anything we find … but I get first call on one thing. If there's any monsters, I wanna fight them, too," he added hastily. "Like we did the harpies. Unless they're too strong for me."

She looked surprised.

"And you would trust me to keep to these terms? I'm stronger than you, so if I decide to rob you or worse, what will you do?"

"We're both still in the Mortal tier. I don't believe you can kill me that easily." Luke hedged, "… and I don't think you're that kind of person."

"You're underestimating the difference between us. Maybe you could take on someone at the midstage, and win, if you don't make any mistakes. At my level, I might even be too durable for you to cut."

"I guess it's just a risk I'll have to take, then, won't I?"

She shrugged. "Very well. Consider our alliance forged."

Luke grinned at her. "How much more durable are Inner Disciples, anyway?"

"It's hard to say." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "We're not really supposed to talk about it, but it depends what you focus on more. Toughness, strength, speed … There's a threshold. Once you cross it on any one of those things, you advance past the Mortal tier."

That sounds a lot like the attributes I have—minus the Arcana stat.

"So everyone just focuses on that one thing, then. To get past the limit as fast as they can?"

"Kind of. It's not like any of them exist in a vacuum. You need to improve all of them, but one needs to be the focus."

Luke frowned. "Why not improve all of them equally?"

"Time. You need to be young. It's different for different people, but the general rule is that if you don't become a warrior before you turn thirty, you never will. After thirty, it becomes much harder to even grow a little bit stronger. It's also a lot quicker going from nothing to the midstage than it is going from the midstage to late stage. So it's better to focus on one thing to get you past the threshold. Besides, it's not like you can't improve the other aspects once you become a Warrior," she explained, looking uncertain at the last part.

"Is that why all the Inner Disciples here look so young? The older ones know they don't have a chance."

"That's right. A lot of the society's Inner Disciples have already passed the age where they can improve."

Before Luke could respond, the carpet gently lifted off into the air and began cutting through the wind. He gasped and stared enviously at the red-robed Elder who, unlike the rest of them, was unbothered by the wind.

I forgot how much it sucks flying like this.

"We're moving so fast," Arya said beside him. Luke opened his mouth to respond, only for the wind to steal his breath the next moment.

Avoiding the impulse to gasp, Luke adjusted his posture and looked at her, ignoring the wind biting at his rapidly drying eyes.

"How … are … you … able … to … talk?" He struggled to get each word out.

"My lungs are just stronger than yours." She grinned at him.

He gave her an angry thumbs-up. Luckily for him, the flight this time around went by a lot quicker. An hour after they departed, the capital was in sight.

Floating above the city, Irila turned toward them and stopped the rug in midair.

"While we will stay in the city overnight, and our accommodations have been secured, limit contact with mortals as much as you are able. Do not, under any circumstance, divulge the details of cultivation to them. Am I understood?"

A chorus of yeses rang out from the crowd.

"Good. Once you are settled in, get dressed in your formal attire. We will be introducing ourselves to the others shortly," she said, directing the carpet onto the roof of a large multistory building.

"It feels so good to be on land again." Luke stretched his arms as he stood up.

"Speak for yourself. I quite enjoyed it. The freedom of the air …" Arya looked to the sky and sighed.

"I'll enjoy it a lot more once I can fly under my own power."

"When?" She lifted an eyebrow.

"When."

"Ha-ha. Little Outer Disciple wants to fly?" Luke felt someone put an arm around him. He winced in pain as fingers dug uncomfortably into his skin. He tried to shift out of the grip, only to find that he couldn't. It was iron. Turning around, he came face-to-face with a bearded Inner Disciple. An unpleasant smile was stretched across his face as he stared intently at Arya.

"Yjarn." Arya stepped forward. "Now isn't the time for your games."

"It isn't?" He looked surprised. "Of course, that's totally my fault."

He stared at her a moment longer before Luke felt the other man slide his arm off his shoulder. Luke tracked his footsteps as he walked away without saying anything.

"A friend of yours?" Luke massaged his aching shoulder, relieved that whatever that was, was over, and over quickly.

"In a way. We joined the society at the same time, but he's been an Inner Disciple a few months longer than I have. He was the first from our group to get there."

"Let me guess. He has a crush on you or something?"

She frowned at the question. "No. Nothing like that."

"Should we be concerned about him when we go to the tomb?"

"His brother died on a hunt. I was the only survivor." She watched Yjarn walk into the building. "It's unlikely but not impossible."

"Fun. Any other enemies I should know about?" Luke started walking inside.

"No. And Yjarn isn't an enemy. He just hasn't dealt with his brother's death." She looked unconvinced.

"We'll see. If he does try anything, you can take him, right?"

She nodded slowly. "If he does try something, he won't find us to be easy prey."

"That's reassuring," Luke said, holding the door open for her as they entered the building. "So what do you know about these other … organizations?"

"Not much. I've heard that some of our disciples have run into them on occasion. Not much more than that, though."

They walked down the stairs together before an attendant led them to their own rooms, leaving them with instructions to gather at the lobby in half an hour.

Luke stood in front of the mirror and got dressed in his formal robes, still predominantly black but embroidered with patterns and red accents. The society really took rank seriously.

They look nice, but what a waste of merits. I could have bought some more talismans. Those would be useful, at least.

Running a comb through his hair, he slicked it all to the back and tied it with a loose string in an attempt to stop it from scattering.

I think it's long enough that I could grow a man bun … He shuddered. This world is changing me. To think I contemplated that. Ew.

Still having ten minutes before he needed to show up at the meeting, he brought up his status.

Status | Quests | Inventory

Name: Lukas King

Tier: Mortal

Mana: 528

Rate: 10% per hour

Strength: 30 > 37

Agility: 30 > 34

Constitution: 30 > 33

Arcana: 25 > 32

Stat Points: 0

Bloodline: Locked. Conditions not met. (1/10,000)

Charges: 7/10

He sighed as he read over it. He had gained twenty-one points in seven days. It was solid progress, but the work involved in it when weighed against the return felt too low. Seven days of waking up at dawn and pushing his body well past his ever-increasing limits, for fewer points than he'd gained in a single night of hunting harpies.

Clenching his fist, he felt powerful. He was easily stronger and faster than even the best athletes on Earth, but he felt weaker than ever. Remembering Yjarn's fingers digging into his shoulder, he felt anger and rage boil inside him, begging to be released. His knuckles turned white, and the comb crumbled in his grip.

I can't believe I just stood there and let him do that to me. Even with all the work I've put in, a random guy just casually reminds me how weak I am. For fuck's sake, some dude I don't even know just grabbed me to make a point to someone else.

How strong is Arke? Or even a hero? How strong is a god? Does their strength give them the freedom to do anything they want to me? Am I that powerless? So weak that I have no choice but to suffer in silence? I was like an ant in his hands.

Luke fell down onto a chair and watched the townsfolk mill about their lives outside his window. Forcefully, he calmed himself down, knowing that mindless anger wasn't useful to him. It had never been.

It's fine. It's fine. I have the Seed. I'll keep getting stronger until no one can walk over me like that again. Until Arke is the one scared at the mere thought of what she will do if I find her. I won't need to rely on Arya to keep me safe on a hunt. I won't need to make alliances to ward off greater threats. I won't stop until there's no one in this world strong enough to make me bend.

Suddenly he felt it. The world grew dim and quiet. Something was asking him to choose. Choose if he really wanted to be the strongest. It promised strength, but it demanded a price. To see it through, or to lose it all.

Quest Alert: A Paragon's Path

Luke blinked in confusion.

This is new. Since when do quests do this?