1-5 Truthful Transmigration

Chapter 1

Headlights lit up the dark country road in front of the beat up old station wagon that John Miller was driving. After another busy day he found himself nodding off, barely able to keep his eyes open. Almost nobody took seriously the fact that driving tired was just as dangerous as driving drunk- especially not tired people. Besides, if tired people could choose not to drive tired, they would… but the whole world was tired. Might as well ask people not to work enough to support their families.

Darkness covered his vision. He must have nodded off for a second, because he didn't notice a small figure run in front of his car. Not until it was too late. On the left side of the road was an oncoming truck… and to the right was a ditch that his instincts told him to swerve towards. Maybe they were right, given the circumstances, but he couldn't believe he ended up like that. He didn't even have the presence of mind to wonder who was running across a dark road in the middle of the night. Instead, there was a sharp impact and he fell unconscious.

When he woke up, he knew something was wrong. His whole body hurt. He was groggy, but he knew that his whole body shouldn't feel like he was being stabbed. He wasn't dying or anything, but there was no way the hospital didn't give him any painkillers. He lay there for a while, not even willing to open his eyes. He couldn't handle seeing what was around him, acknowledging it was real. Maybe he was lucky and he was still dying in the ditch. That way, at least his life insurance could pay out. He simply couldn't handle more hospital bills… and the rest of his family was even less prepared for that.

His family… was…

John breathed out heavily. It hurt. His lungs burned… though strangely only on the inside. He had to open his eyes. He probably had a concussion or something. Giving up and dying wouldn't help anybody. A little bit of money might help his family for a moment, but they needed more than that. He was the only one earning money… and he also couldn't just die on them. They were family, and he couldn't do that to them.

When he opened his eyes, he found it was much brighter than he anticipated. Not bright exactly, but early morning sun instead of midnight. Was it really possible that nobody involved thought to call the police, and everyone else who passed by hadn't seen his car in a ditch?

As his eyes adjusted, he saw he was wrong about something. Several somethings, in fact. First, he wasn't in a ditch. He was in a room. Not a hospital room though. He was lying on his back on hard stone, seeing light stream in through unfamiliar windows. The windows in his training room. That he'd never seen before. But were definitely… his? Or at least, his parents.

He slowly sat up. Did people dream while dying? This was just like a dream. Weird and surreal. He knew he felt pain, but he couldn't place it. He was able to sit up, even though he should have been dying. He knew things that weren't true. As he looked down at himself, he expected to see horrible wounds anyway, but he saw very clearly arms and legs and a somebody's torso. His torso. But also it wasn't. Neither were the arms and legs. The most noticeable thing was that they were covered in strange clothing. Were those… loose silk? Yes, he knew that. The finest silks in the region, woven from the finest stoneworm silk.

John held a hand to his head. Definitely a dream. But wasn't he supposed to be able to dosomething once he was lucid? He could sit up, but nothing around him changed. He looked down to where he would find his t-shirt and jeans… but only saw more silk. What the hell even was a stoneworm? Dreams made no sense. He honestly had no idea what they were… except they produced fine silk. The finest in Marble County. He remembered that. And his body hurt.

He looked over everything he could see. First of all, his hands weren't what he remembered them looking like. Not that different, but he did know the back of his own hand. His arms and legs were a bit too… muscular? Not chubby. He'd put on a few pounds lately. Even before that, he'd never looked like this. But he couldn't see a single wound. Yet he hurt everywhere. It was… awful. Strangely, the pain didn't change with his slow movements. Not significantly, anyway. It was like the pain was inside of him, but not part of his body. Not quite. Where was it then?

The answer came to him quite clearly. It was in his meridians. His mind immediately recoiled at that thought, because it was strange. Weren't meridians a chinese medicine thing? More importantly… that wasn't even the same word. He knew it meant the same thing, but… he wasn't thinking in the same language. English and… whatever the hell Western Trade Dialect was. 

He threw up on the ground next to him. Someone was in his head. That was his initial thought, but it was no less unsettling to his stomach when he came to the unfortunately more logical conclusion that he was in someone else's head. Because he was thinking all the thoughts and summoning all of the memories, but the memories weren't his. They belonged to… Fortkran Tenebach. Whoever the hell that was. Except when he thought about it, the memories came flooding back to him. The most prominent of those was the very last memory.

He was dead. John… was probably dead. But Fortkran Tenebach was definitely dead. He recalled his final moments, as he was attempting to break through from the Spiritual Collection Phase to the Foundation Phase. He messed up and his meridians shattered. He- John- knew what these things were somehow, but using only his own memories he only had a vague concept of what that might be, besides the obvious. Some sort of levels of power for martial arts related power of some sort. That was the best he could do, especially with his own memories being fuzzy. He hoped they would come back smoothly, but before that he should probably stop dying on the floor of 'his' training room.

He shakily stood up. At least his muscles worked. He staggered out of the room barely able to open the door, along through familiar-yet-new hallways towards his room. He saw a few servants and did his best to look like was in better condition than he was. He didn't know their names… why didn't he know their names? There were only ten or twenty of them, and they'd been around for years. Was his memory that messed up?

His room was close by, though not immediately adjacent to the training room because of the space requirements. Fortunately, Fortkran remembered where some medicine was. John was slightly surprised to see wrapped paper around little pellets. They looked like kibble, kind of, but apparently they were medicine. Well, sure. This one should be good for repairing damage to meridians. His memories weren't clear on the exact details of that, but the sinking feeling in his stomach told him it was almost certainly nothing compared to what he had. Completely destroyed and exploded meridians. Enough to kill him, apparently. Well, it was better than nothing… and he didn't want to see the family doctor right now. Fortkran was habitually stubborn about those things, and John… wanted to avoid people until he could at least slightly sort out his head.

The pill went down easily, and almost immediately he felt the effects. His logical side told him that was the placebo effect. Pills didn't work that fast. However, the feeling of some sort of warm, smooth, comforting liquid being formed inside his stomach only increased. The memories native to this place knew what to do with that, and he was soon sitting down on a small mat in his room. He closed his eyes, concentrating to direct the medicine into his body. Strangely enough, it worked. Just because his memories told him it would didn't mean he had expected it to actually work. For one thing, the memories of his body didn't seem… completely reliable. There were gaps that didn't just seem to be fuzziness, but things never learned to begin with.

The medicine soothed his internal wounds. It dulled the pain from a large mass to more manageable and discrete little pathways. He could feel his meridians, like an extra set of blood vessels going throughout his body. They were… in extremely terrible condition. That much was sure. As he carefully directed the medicine into them it only seemed to stop things from falling apart… though hopefully the recovery would just be slower than the soothing part.

John's head hurt. Physically less than it had, but the mental stress certainly didn't help. What should he do next? All he wanted to do was go to sleep. He was in the body of a dead man with his memories- there wasn't any other trace of him- and in a strange world he barely understood, though he felt like he should have. Was sleeping advisable injured as he was? Absolutely not. Was he going to do it anyway? 

Of course. It was better to collapse on a bed than on the floor, and he had no capacity to talk with anyone. He wasn't even sure if he could speak the language… though he had memories of it, they weren't his. He was the one in control- as much as anyone could be called in control of a body that barely moved.

He drifted off to sleep- real sleep, not the strange half-sleep he'd experienced while he was probably dead. It was nice and peaceful and he almost didn't care if he woke up. But he did… at least a little.

Chapter 2

Waking up once again was ultimately less disorienting than the first time, but more disappointing. John found that he was still in someone else's body… and perhaps more significantly in a different world. Fortkran Tenebach had certainly died, and John was fairly certain he had too. 

He was reminded of various forms of media where vaguely similar things happened. In those situations, people usually scrambled around to get sent back to their world. Certainly, he had responsibilities to attend to on Earth, and he would prefer to get back… but realistically he couldn't. What was he going to do, save the kingdom and then step through a portal back home instead of staying with new friends and statistically someone that had been fallen in love with?

He wasn't even in a kingdom. The Stone Conglomerate was an allied group of smaller cultivator nations that basically governed themselves but acted in each others' defense. As far as he knew, there wasn't anyone that needed saving. Probably someone, but he couldn't do it. Because he was… a normal person. And in a world of cultivators- even though he barely comprehended it- that meant he was a tiny ant. Even among his own family- or Fortkran's family at least- both his parents were late Foundation Phase cultivators and his grandfather was beyond that in the Soul Expansion Phase. He… this body… had been close to Foundation Phase but failed at the moment of breakthrough, dropping him back to the bottom of the Spiritual Collection Phase. Or below the bottom, since he didn't have a scrap of spiritual energy inside him. And his meridians… well, maybe they were very slightly recovered after taking the medicine.

John found himself cursing for his body's reluctance to not seek out help. What were hired healers for if not seeking out when injured? However, it was too late to change that. He had arrived where he was. When he thought of telling anyone what happened, his body rejected the idea. He could override his feelings, but perhaps they were there for a good reason. Perhaps telling anyone would be a mistake. But he at least wanted to change some things.

He got dressed- at least he had memory of where clothes were and what was appropriate to wear. Anything he set his eyes on he recognized naturally. Accessing memories wasn't too hard, but the gaps on knowledge he thought he should have were strange. But maybe it was just hunger. He knew Fortrkan's parents wouldn't be up so early- falling asleep in the middle of the afternoon had certainly made him wake up before normal- so he could have breakfast without having to talk to them. Avoiding people seemed like a good idea at the moment. What was he supposed to say, 'Hi, sorry but your son is dead and I took over his body'? That was… extremely untactful, and potentially unwise. And he didn't want to lie, so avoidance was the best tactic. It seemed like they didn't speak every day anyway, so he could keep that up until he had a chance to think.

When he entered the dining room, a servant quickly stuck his head out of the kitchen. "Young master… you're early." The servant hesitated a moment, "We can get started on whatever you wish, of course, but it takes time…"

"Just get me something quick." John thought for a moment. What did he eat normally? Something like pancakes drenched in sugary syrup and slathered with butter. That was fine occasionally, but wasn't he supposed to be a martial artist? He looked down, finding he wasn't fat… but that didn't seem like the best breakfast diet regardless. "Just cook me something hearty. Sausage and eggs." 

The servant nodded. "Of course, young master." He turned to leave, but John called after him. "Wait!" The servant turned around. "What's your name?"

The servant hesitated half a moment and turned. "It's Wolfe, young master."

After Wolfe turned his back, John frowned. He'd seen that servant before. Probably every day, but he didn't know his name. And asking his name made him nervous. But he needed to know the names of his servants. Even though he was from modern Earth, John wasn't planning to upset the social system. Perhaps it wouldn't be fitting to become buddies with his servants, but knowing their names seemed entirely appropriate. Was he supposed to not? He didn't get a feeling either way. Just that Fortkran hadn't thought it important.

-----

Breakfast had been delicious- there were creatures resembling chickens in this world, but he wasn't sure if the eggs were from them or something else. They were certainly quite large in either case, and quite rich. The sausage was excellent as well. John had the feeling he didn't want to know how much his food cost, though he couldn't compare it to how much the servants made because he honestly didn't know that part. Just that the clan was well off, having several high ranking cultivators- at least for the area they lived in. From the few memories he had of watching cultivators fight or sparring, he knew how much difference each cultivation level made. And each phase was split up into nine levels. Either of his parents could probably kill him with a single finger. Not that they would… if they thought he was Fortkran. He would deal with that later. First, he wanted to try to at least fix some problems with himself, like having lost all of his cultivation. That was important, and even though he had a cushy life as a young master of a clan he was expected to cultivate and do well at it.

Fortkran had some cultivation methods memorized, but there was a slight problem. He hadn't cultivated until he had been blessed by the family's guardian beast. Even though his eyes had seen it, he didn't know what it was. Just a changing shape in the darkness… and intimately connected to that element.

Was darkness bad? John thought about that. Fortkran didn't seem like he had been the most pleasant fellow, as he was going through the memories, but there was nothing about the elemental darkness that had seemed malignant. He hadn't had to kill anyone or kick a puppy to use the power. It just seemed to be something that absorbed the force of attacks as armor and could be added to his own strikes to damage enemies- much like any other energy. In theory. In partly remembered theory. Fortkran had cultivated more or less diligently… but he hadn't done a lot of reading. John planned to rectify that, and the Tenebach clan just so happened to have a private library.

Sitting at a desk inside the entrance of the library was an older man, but John could feel a sense of power coming from him. He couldn't quite place the magnitude of it, but if he recalled correctly he should have been at the thirteenth cultivation level, about middle Foundation Phase. He stood as John entered and bowed. "Good morning, young master Fortkran."

"Good morning Dionsio," John inclined his head. Apparently names were worth remembering if the owner was strong. He agreed with that, but that wasn't the only reason to remember someone's name. "I'll just be browsing the shelves."

"Of course," Dionsio returned to his seat.

John internally breathed a sigh of relief as he moved behind the shelves. Hopefully the man hadn't noticed his drop in cultivation. Though maybe he thought it was being hidden. Either way, it was too late to change anything. 

He browsed the shelves for books. At least he was able to dredge up a few memories of the library, though they were indeed few. Mostly he had to figure out the organizational system before he was able to pick a few books off the shelves. An important one was "An Overview of Spiritual Totems". John knew Fortkran had been able to connect to a spiritual totem of the third layer… a reasonable enough achievement for a first totem, but nothing impressive for a young master of a clan. It was known as the Claws of Darkness, and had allowed him to have a unique combat style. However, John was unable to feel any connection to it. Perhaps he just needed to cultivate, but he was hoping he could select one once he began cultivating. Or at the very least he wanted to be informed for the second totem he could bind to once he reached Foundation Phase. The worst case scenario- besides just being a cripple now- was that he couldn't connect to a totem at the Spiritual Collection Phase at all. He hoped that wasn't true, but the thought crossed his mind.

He picked up a few other books. He had enough to keep himself occupied for a long time… and to keep him from thinking about Earth, and how things were going there. Because he couldn't do anything about that, and instead had to deal with what he had now. He also went further into the back, past a set of wards that easily allowed him passage. That was where actual cultivation methods were kept. He picked out a few basic ones. They weren't tied to a particular element, so anyone could cultivate them in theory. Theory, theory, theory. So much theory, and he didn't know if he could do anything at all. Maybe it didn't matter if his meridians recovered. Maybe John, who wasn't even from this place, couldn't do it. He hated that thought too.

As he left the library, he caught an uncomfortable shift out of the corner of his eye. As the young master of the Tenebach clan, he could take whatever he wanted from the library for however long he wanted. But perhaps Dionsio would like some assurances. He turned around and stepped back inside, placing his armful of selections on the desk. "I decided it was time to review some basics. You can let anyone looking for these particular works know they are in my hands." Fortkran wouldn't have said they could come talk to him and he would give it to them, so John didn't either. On the other hand, Fortkran had borrowed some books that never made it back to the library… and John was going to make sure they did. Or at least any he could still track down.

Chapter 3

Cultivation manuals seemed to be extremely… dense. John could see why the former owner of his body had been reluctant to dive into them. But all it took was a bit of interpretation to find what was important. When the book said a cultivator must have a mind as still as water and a flawless heart, what it really meant was that it was best to practice cultivation somewhere with no distractions. One area he did need to pay attention to even the fine details was the actual cultivation itself, gathering spiritual energy and passing it through his meridians. The first part wasn't dangerous and was actually supposed to be quite relaxing, but the second had obvious dangers. The path that spiritual energy circulated through the meridians clearly made a difference, though he would need more experience to know how. The dangers from a lack of control were extremely apparent to him, because he found his meridians in their current state. Breaking through to the next stage was harder than normal cultivation, but the results were still clear. Failure was… unpleasant.

It wasn't clear to John if he could collect spiritual energy, but if he was going to do so his training room was the right place. It was set up for that very purpose without distractions and with a small spiritual gathering array. As he walked into the room with that awareness in mind, he felt his hairs stand on end. Certainly, something was different, but it was hard to say what exactly.

He sat down and steadied his breathing, looking over the manual in front of him once again. This was the moment he would give himself a pep talk, but an internal one seemed more appropriate. 'You can do this, John Miller. Even if your name is extremely plain, this is something almost everyone in this world can do. And if you can't… why are you even alive again?'

So the internal pep rally didn't actually help. What did help was the sound of a trickling fountain and the calming atmosphere. He closed his eyes and reached out for spiritual energy. At least he had Fortkran's memories to guide him… including a number of initial failures. It was both surprising and extremely natural when he condensed spiritual energy inside his dantian- a strange organ akin to a stomach for storing spiritual energy, in the same way that meridians were veins that carried spiritual energy and not blood. In a way, since all the spiritual energy flowed from there, it was more like a heart… but hearts didn't really store blood. Maybe… lungs? Or maybe it didn't have to have an exact analogue.

He wasn't sure how long it took, but as he breathed in he pulled in spiritual energy, and as he breathed out he expelled mostly just air, leaving the spiritual energy behind in his dantian. It took more than an hour to fill up what he had with the wispy, misty feeling spiritual energy. It was slow, but the process wasn't unpleasant even so. The next part, however, was much less comfortable.

As he first attempted to circulate the spiritual energy through his meridians he felt a stabbing pain. They had been completely ruined the day before, after all. It made sense that they wouldn't take well to being used. John sighed. Could he really do nothing? If he continued to take medicine, the benefits would flatten out and the side effects would build up. He looked through some of the cultivation manuals for answers.

He was fortunate that one of them mentioned damaged meridians. It seemed as long as the cultivator was careful, damaged meridians could actually benefit from cultivating. Of course, the potential was also there to cause harm. But though it was his first time making the attempt… he also strangely had experience that came into his mind. He was still getting used to having memories that weren't his. Would it ever not be strange?

Slowly, carefully, he began again. He didn't force anything, just pulling a tiny strand of spiritual energy through the beginning of the path. When he felt the pain, he recognized that it wasn't so bad. It was an aching pain, not of hurting himself but stretching something that was in bad condition. As long as he didn't take it too far, it would be good for him. As the spiritual energy moved through the damaged meridian, tiny fragments of it broke off, seeping into his body. His body should have already been fortified by spiritual energy as Fortkran had cultivated almost to the Foundation Phase, but it seemed the damage had stretched to more than just the meridians. Though, his body was still better than what John had been used to.

Eventually the strand dried up… but John immediately reached for another to pull along the same path. It went slightly further… further… until he settled into a slow, methodical pattern. As he did so, his thoughts wandered.

-----

The only sound in the room was a steady beeping. Rhythmic… but not pleasant. Even so, it was better to have it than not. The rising and falling sound let John and his mother know that John's father was still alive. 

The doctors said he would likely recover. He was young enough that a heart attack wasn't the end of things. That said, it couldn't be taken lightly either. John had rushed from his class at university when he got the call. Now, he was sitting uncomfortably next to his father, who was asleep. He didn't need to be there… but being anywhere else he would have the same worries and none of the support. The same was true in the other direction- he could provide support to his parents by his presence. His homework sat open on his lap, but his pencil hadn't moved in half an hour.

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The hospital room was just the start. With a heart attack came all sorts of complications- and bills. It wasn't long before John had to drop out- with his parents unable to pay for him, and insurance not covering all of the bills. He got a job working part time at a burger joint. A stopgap job just for the moment, to bring in some extra money. Things started to turn for the better… until disaster struck once again. Once more the news came with a phone call, not from either of his parents but a cousin. A fire had burned down their home. They needed a place to stay, just for a little bit. John and his parents were happy to do so… but helping out was another drain on time and energy. 

-----

A wracking cough filled his lungs. Or… someone's lungs. John wasn't sure if it was appropriate to call them his yet. He couldn't hold back as he coughed up black gunk- black and dark red… blood and something else. It was disgusting… but once he could breathe again, he felt better. His meridians… were still in a bad state, but the throbbing ache was lessened. He had used up most of the spiritual energy he had gathered, but he felt better. Even the black gunk… probably wasn't bad. Fortkran Tenebach's memories knew that cultivation could cleanse the impurities from the body. John hadn't thought it would be quite so literal, but there were other memories of something similar. It was disgusting, but he ultimately felt better. 

Now that he knew he could cultivate, at least at a basic level, he needed to know something else. Spiritual energy was the basis of all cultivation, and martial techniques let a cultivator use them… but the core of a cultivator's true power came from spiritual totems. The difference between a Spiritual Collection Phase cultivator with one and one without was… several times as much power. Twice, three times… even up to five times as much for those who reached the fifth layer. The latter was only accomplished at the Spiritual Collection Phase by world-shattering geniuses, and honestly maybe not at all. The stories weren't necessarily so accurate… but either way Fortkran had managed to get a third layer totem. 

As for the difference at Foundation Phase, it was literally everything. Or said another way, nobody reached Foundation Phase without a spiritual totem. They aided cultivation as well as combat. And at Foundation Phase cultivators could gain a second spiritual totem, and add to their power.

John couldn't feel a connection to the Claws of Darkness, even now that he had spiritual energy. He wasn't sure if he could ever reconnect with his real family, but Fortkran's family was relying on him to cultivate properly. It was the only way to achieve any real status in the world, and personally he didn't feel like being on the bottom rung in a second world. So he needed a spiritual totem.

Once again, he had memories to guide him. They were better than an instructor… but worse than personal experience. Even so, he was ecstatic to find that as soon as he had the intention to reach out to the spiritual plane and the totems therein that he was pulled out of his body. It was a strange, jarring feeling- but exactly what was supposed to happen. He found himself floating among totems representing anything, of every element. There were swords covered in fire and frost, and some radiating only a sense of pure sharpness. John looked around for anything with the darkness element, spotting a few… but as he approached he felt a pressure- from the entire area. He would have to overcome that pressure to choose a totem… and on higher levels the pressure would be even more.

John let himself be pushed back into his own body. Everything was fine. He hadn't expected to actually connect to a spiritual totem on his first attempt anyway. He had to get used to the process and strengthen his spiritual energy, then push towards the deepest and strongest level he could, before finally finding something that suited him. So he'd accomplished his goal. He couldn't even reach out for the spiritual plane if he wasn't eligible for a totem. As far as dying went, things had been pretty good for him- being taken from his world and put in a body with nearly destroyed meridians was still probably better than death. Though he wasn't sure how he would feel once someone found out who he really was. He still had to consider that. He couldn't keep up his honestly pathetic facade for long.

Chapter 4

When he got called to the family's formal meeting room, John knew he was caught. He'd spend the last week avoiding his parents as much as possible, but there were limits to that. He had to eat, and though their interactions at meals had been limited they must have picked up on it there. If nothing else, it was probably obvious that his cultivation was in tatters. Should he have mentioned that? Probably. Yet not mentioning it was also something the original Fortkran Tenebach would have done. What a mess.

"The family is waiting for you, young master," a servant gestured to the doorway to the formal meeting room. John could vaguely sense a number of people through it. It was nice, actually, being able to sense spiritual energy. He wasn't that good at it yet, but it was a useful ability. Too bad he wouldn't be able to use it or anything else he'd learned when he was dead.

"Thank you, Charles," John nodded his head to the man by the door and opened it.

When he stepped inside, he saw someone he hadn't recognized by their spiritual energy. Not with his own memories anyway. Once he saw her face the memories of her were triggered much more substantially. They'd only met once or twice in person, but he regularly received paintings of her so he would recognize her as she aged. Her dark skin was reminiscent of her father and grandfather. Their marriage had been arranged by the grandfathers of the clans… before they were even born, in fact. A political alliance, not particularly strange to Fortkran but a bit alien to John. She was his fiancee, Matayal Brandle. Her presence made things more awkward… but not that much. He did note she was in the Foundation Phase, and the second level even.

All of the other figures in the room provided even more pressure, looking at him. His parents radiated a stronger Foundation Phase energy, and he withered under the stares of two of his uncles. But what made him almost collapse unconscious was the most overbearing pressure in the room, his grandfather and the only Soul Expansion Phase cultivator in the clan. His grandfather wasn't even trying that hard. Even so, Luctus Tenebach had that sort of impression on people. He was the first one to speak. "Fortkran. I am sure you have some idea of why you have been called here."

He bowed as he stepped into the room and moved to his position. "I have an inkling, yes. Please, allow me to explain myself before you make any judgements." Luctus waved his hand, which was enough. John tried to pick his words carefully, ignoring the thought that he should just lie. "One week ago… I… Fortkran Tenebach was cultivating." John closed his eyes as he spoke, unable to stand up to the pressure of looking at those in front of him. "He was attempting to break through to the Foundation Phase. Perhaps he was unprepared or too hasty, or perhaps he was unlucky, but he failed. In that process, his meridians were destroyed… and he died. That same night, at least as far as my memories go, I was traveling. I lost control and went off the road… and then I died. Somehow, my wandering soul found its way into Fortkran's body, reviving it enough to seek healing medicine." John shook his head. "I did not take his body of my own intention, but I am sorry to say that Fortkran Tenebach is dead and I have taken possession of it." When he opened his eyes, the expressions he saw weren't the anger he thought he might see. Instead, there was disbelief, confusion… and an unreadable face. 

John felt as if Luctus was seeing through him, into his very nature. For all he knew, he was. That might be possible, especially at such a cultivation level. He trembled, unable to shake off the fear of death. All it would take was one move by anyone else in the room, and that would be it. Finally, Luctus spoke. "Your words… are difficult to believe. They seem like a convenient excuse to forgive you your… behavioral flaws. Your cultivation mishap… is also disappointing."

John blinked. He didn't believe him? But it wasn't just about his cultivation failure either. Had he… had Fortkran done something that was worth reprimanding so formally? John passed through memories that weren't really his. Sure, he was quite impolite to the servants. He was a bit of a slacker in his cultivation, and he didn't choose healthy meals. When he went into town he apparently spent a bit too much money on himself. Then there was the gambling… that hadn't really come up, because John hadn't probed that area of memories. Then the prostitutes. That wasn't a good look for a young master of a clan. John grimaced. That wasn't the whole list either, but it was all he could handle. "I hadn't… come across some of those memories." That was it then. He was going to die either way… or be disowned with no skills of use in the world. He couldn't even say he didn't deserve it. Or… that Fortkran didn't, anyway.

Once again, his grandfather spoke. "Can you… prove you are a different person?"

Could he? Did he even need to? He was so different… but then again, people could act differently for many reasons. Had they not even noticed? "I um… have my memories from my previous life." Just the eyes told him that wasn't enough. He hadn't even told them he was from another world, but substantiating his words would be impossible regardless. He could just make things up. "I no longer have my spiritual totem for the Spiritual Collection Phase. I was planning to connect to a new one…" Nope, not good enough. What else? "... I could go see the guardian beast."

Luctus stared sternly at John… or at least at the body he was in. "You must be aware that attempting to receive a second blessing from the guardian beast will only result in death."

"It is… once per person," John bowed his head. "I don't even know if it would do it, since I'm technically not a Tenebach." He couldn't think of anything else though.

"Fine. You may make the attempt," Luctus proclaimed. "If you die, you die. If you receive a second blessing… or if you are a different person that receives a first blessing, we can consider forgiving your actions."

"... thank you." John didn't know what else to say. Maybe that wasn't even appropriate, because he was about to go meet a shadow beast that was going to kill him.

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The family's guardian beast was kept underground… or perhaps it was better to say it chose to dwell there. It lived in a dark cave, as much as it lived at all. Perhaps someone had more knowledge about it, but Fortkran didn't know much more than that. John probably should have tried to figure it out, but he barely had time for all the things he'd tried to do, and honestly he had been pretty confused about the whole thing. He wondered if he would end up in a new body… but probably not. Even if the guardian beast didn't tear his soul apart, the chances of ending up in another body had to be pretty slim, though he didn't know the mechanism for such a transfer to begin with. Maybe he should just kill himself… but he wasn't brave or crazy enough for that. And maybe a bit too hopeful.

He walked into the dark cave, waiting where the deepest shadows dwelled. "Oh great guardian beast, I come to seek your blessing."

The sound that came out from the darkness was a strange combination of the growl of a wolf and the hiss of a snake… he thought he heard some bird in there as well. Strangely enough, the shadows pulled away from him, such that he could see most of the cave… except the creature itself. It was merely a silhouette, but not one that remained fixed in any one way. "Fortkran Tenebach… young master of the Tenebach clan. You know I do not provide a second blessing to anyone. How extremely foolish."

John went into a full panic. "I… umm… how do I explain this…" His mind raced… but the panic suddenly snapped into a sort of honest clarity. "I'm not him. He died and I just happened to end up in his body. I was sort of hoping you could tell that… and wouldn't choose to kill me. And even though I can't possibly be from the clan… the only way for me to live is to get this blessing."

The shadowy voice barked, seemingly from all directions- and even inside him. "Hah! A foolish bluff. You should know I can easily dispel your lie. Like this!" The shadows jumped, spreading back throughout the room and simultaneously seeping into John. It was cold and dark. Freezing, uncaring, concealing… and mysteriously full of more than he expected. "Look! You are…" he felt the darkness swirling around, "... not lying. How curious." The shadows pulled away, out of their uncomfortable position inside him. He got the feeling of a face pressed up right next to his, though he couldn't see it. "I don't give blessings to the same person twice. It's pointless. Even those I favored… the result was the same. But I can see your cultivation… or at least that of your body… has completely reset. Your meridians are in a bad state… but they will heal. Now I am curious. So you'll be getting your wish… one way or another. Strange human from another world."

As those last words were spoken, the darkness dived back inside of him… more forcefully and completely. There was a strange instant where the entire room was revealed around him, without light to make it visible but without a speck of darkness to hide it. Then his mind was overwhelmed and his consciousness faded.

Chapter 5

When John awoke, the cave was dark. That was what his mind said it must be, but he could see into the furthest corner… despite there being no source of light. Just in case, he checked himself. Clearly, no light was coming from him. In fact, he could sense it would be quite the opposite. Inside his meridians… once more and for the first time ever… flowed spiritual energy with an attribute of darkness. However strange it was, the unpleasant aspects of it were actually muted. It was chill, but not freezing. Dark… but the comforting sort that brought about sleep. Not the sort of darkness that concealed things. Not from him. Not anymore.

"Well." John stood up. He was a bit shaky, but in a good way. As if he had just run a marathon. It was unpleasant, but he felt like he would be better after he recovered. "I guess it worked." He bowed into the darkness, though he was nearly certain the guardian beast couldn't see him. "Thank you for your blessing." John thought for a second. "Would it be inappropriate to ask for your name?"

There was a cackling, echoing from the far ends of the caves and from inside of him at the same time. "Last time… he didn't even think about it. I think I will decline to tell you my name at this time… but you may come to know it in the future."

John nodded, still unsure if he could be seen, and made his way back outside where his family waited. Fortkran's family? Whatever. The prominent members of the Tenebach clan… plus one other. He bowed respectfully upon seeing them. "The guardian beast has seen fit to bless me. I hope that you now believe my words are true."

His grandfather, Luctus Tenebach, stepped forward. A hand was placed on his head, and he felt his internal darkness being pulled on… just slightly called to by the energy inside the powerful figure in front of him. As the powers touched, they recognized each other, though one was old and one was new. There was a sigh, and then he spoke. "I have no idea who you are, but you have to be better than him." He was taller than John, enough to be extra intimidating as his face became close, "You will be better than him, won't you? It seems you know how to behave, but we need you to keep it up."

"I can!" John held up his hands, "I might uh… not know everything I should do… but I can learn."

His parents stepped forward next. "You're really someone else?" His father looked over him. "It's hard to believe. But we talked to the servants… you're clearly not the same. Good. Welcome to the family."

His fiancee Matayal stepped forward and held out her hand. Almost by instinct he took it and kissed it. He felt her almost pull back, but she let him. Fortunately, he didn't seem to have made the wrong move. John smiled awkwardly. "Technically we haven't met before." He looked at everyone. "I will be happy to be part of the family."

-----

Fortkran's positive feelings for his own family had been… somewhat limited. However, even though he didn't take note of them John was able to recall memories that showed them in a better light. Though he'd been chastised many times it had always been for things he deserved. They'd just been trying to make him better. He hadn't been able to see that.

John wasn't that much older than him, but he was more experienced with the world. Maybe that just meant he'd made his mistakes and faced hardship earlier, but he found himself growing closer to his new family. It wasn't quick, but he grew closer to them every time they interacted. He still thought about his family on Earth, but there was no way to get back to them.

He explained some details of who he formerly was to his family. They found it strange, but it seemed there was some precedent for those claiming to be from other worlds. It was extremely rare, but then again a cultivation clan was more likely to encounter oddities.

John found himself with new responsibilities… which were just old responsibilities he hadn't really been taking care of. The basic summary of them was just to not screw anything up. Don't make the clan look bad. Also, he was supposed to cultivate properly.

He had no problem with that, because he was aware he couldn't do much in the new world if he didn't. It was actually quite easy, because he had the direct guidance of his grandfather. There was a large amount of information about later phases he wasn't prepared to make use of yet, but it was good to know where he was aiming, and to talk to someone with actual experience. Fortkran had received some guidance, but apparently he was unpleasant enough to teach that it had been cut off. John had those memories, but Fortkran had just assumed he had learned what he needed to- even with no evidence to support that.

His current ability to cultivate was still limited, even after the blessing. He hadn't yet formed a connection to any spiritual totem, so he was mostly filled with undirected spiritual energy. Not completely undirected, but it was surprisingly less darkness focused than he thought it would be. 

Taking his time to get a proper spiritual totem was wise, and even encouraged. The higher layer of spiritual totem he could connect to the better. It wasn't related to his cultivation power directly, but instead his ability to sense them as well as to resist the pressure of the higher levels. It was more related to the purity of his spiritual energy and the meridians that the spiritual energy flowed through. Immediately after the blessing he'd been able to stay in the second layer of spiritual totems for longer, and the more he cultivated and recovered his meridians the more he would be able to do. Soon enough, he might take a step into the third layer of spiritual totems, but he wasn't sure if he could go beyond there. Eventually he would have to pick a totem to allow his cultivation to truly progress.

-----

John found himself once again in the sea of spiritual totems. It was often called a sea, anyway. It didn't really matter what it was called, though. The point was, spiritual totems could be connected to a cultivator in that place that was not a place. Theoretically all cultivators had access to every totem, though confirming that completely was impossible. Regardless, John browsed through them. The space between them was nothing, but traversing it could take time. He had to move himself carefully to stop and see each totem as he passed it. There were at least hundreds on each layer, though he was more easily able to approach some of them.

He now once again had his affinity for darkness. Thinking of Fortkran as someone else was more correct, but all those memories and the body were his now. Nobody was around to voice a complaint. So his affinity for darkness let him more easily approach anything that shared that element. However, any of the basic elements were within possibility. He wasn't sure if he would want to connect to an air or fire totem, and certainly light would be out of the question… but water or earth were associated with darkness. Since he resided in Marble County which was part of the Stone Conglomerate, he had more access to cultivation techniques that fit along the lines of earth. The Tenebach clan had at least basic cultivation methods for any element, but more for darkness and aligned elements given their affinities and just what they could get their hands on.

He didn't have to pick darkness, but it would be the easiest. However, that wasn't always the best in the long run. He now had an affinity for darkness, but was his mental affinity appropriate for that? Would he learn it well? That was impossible to say in the long run.

Spiritual Totems were catalogued as well as possible in the library. He could research which ones he might like to form a connection to there more easily… since he was limited in the time he could be in the spiritual sea. But experiencing them firsthand was better when he could. Even without forming a connection, he could get a sense for how a particular totem worked. Its elements, strengths and weaknesses, and its potential.

But much of that seemed to be based on the layer. It seemed almost pointless to even bother looking at those on the first layer, but at least it got him used to the pressure so he could take a look around the second layer. He was eyeing a few things. He hoped to reach the third layer soon. He knew he would definitely not be choosing the Claws of Darkness again- not because they were a poor choice, but he didn't want to make the same choice. He liked one he found on the second layer. It had a sense of subtlety, a person darting between shadows and striking suddenly. He thought it was called The Dancing Shadow or something. That said, something from the third layer would probably be better. But first he had to keep making the attempts to get himself used to the pressure and tempering his meridians to be as strong as they could to support him.