Trust Building Exercise

After an hour of slowly dredging through the woods, Thirteen brought an exhausted Ron to a small alcove within a stone and dirt mound. It was well hidden while offering Thirteen enough space to act freely in case they were attacked. The foliage was dense but Thirteen could rely on his lifesense and hearing to observe threats beyond.

The two had waited there for just under 2 hours when Ron spoke up—the first time he had done so since they arrived.

"It's cold out here, we need a fire."

"No." Thirteen replied, his eyes closed as he continued to monitor the surroundings.

"Why? If we don't make a fire we'll probably die of cold or something! And how are we going to cook food? Did you even bring any?"

Thirteen frowned but did not open his eyes.

"You've obviously never been truly cold. You will not die, it's chilly at best. As for food I will sort that out when I'm convinced it's safe to do so."

Ron went silent for a while and Thirteen prodded with his lifesense, exposing the young man's surface emotions. He still couldn't tell the difference between all emotions and certainly couldn't make out subtle differences like depression compared to melancholy or grief. But it was obvious enough to Thirteen's senses that the man was scared and angry, or frustrated, or… something like that.

'Sigh… this is not how I anticipated my day going at all.'

Thirteen's thoughts stopped with the sound of Ron standing up behind him.

"What are you doing?" Thirteen asked as he turned to look at the man.

"Going for a walk, that okay with you?" The man asked sarcastically.

"No, it's no– Fine. I'll come with you." He realised the man likely needed to deal with physiological needs, but that didn't mean he could be left defenseless.

"No! Just stay here, I'll be back."

Thirteen was about to ignore the young man's words when he remembered the conditions of his trial. He had to listen to Ron's orders.

Thirteen stood and drew Ron's attention, looking him in the eyes with a serious expression.

"Don't go too far. If there is danger I need to be able to help you."

The young man scoffed. "If you were really an immortal you would be able to help me regardless. Don't act like you care if I die, I heard that old man. This is some kind of challenge for you right? Well I don't trust you. Nor do I buy your lies. You have to do what I say to succeed your twisted challenge, so I'm telling you to wait there, how far I go or how long I take are none of your business.

With that, Ron turned to leave, walking far through the woods.

Thirteen clenched his teeth and thought about what to do. Ron was still within his senses, but he was moving increasingly further away.

'What did they say about this in class. What to do if your charge puts themselves in danger…'

After a moment, Thirteen's eyes brightened as he looked back at the direction Ron had gone; a mysterious smile playing at his lips.

——

Ron was a young man in his early twenties. He was born a commoner, as his simple name would suggest, but was handsome and usually quite refined.

He had run from home early in his life and made a living as a scam artist and a thief. He became very skilled at playing the part of a merchant's son and used that identity to trick other merchants. When he became an adult, he would play the part of a merchant or noble himself, dressing in fine clothes, imitating the etiquette and manners of 'proper' nobility.

He had never held a sword in his life, having run from town to town to avoid the revenge of his victims. It had worked for years, up until now at least. As his fine clothes got snagged on every branch and bramble, he felt as if he was back with his family, working to the bone every day with nothing to show for it.

'That brat back there showed some kind of power, I feel like he messed with my mind. I need to get away quickly. Even if he protects me for two days, what then? They'll just let me go? Ha, horseshit!' He cursed inwardly.

His originally smooth and pale skin already featured a number of small cuts and was covered in dirt and sweat. He'd never had to struggle so much just to keep walking before, stupid forest.

He missed the city, the fine foods, and the finer ladies. He wanted nothing more at this moment than to wake up in the bed of some noble girl seduced the night before, and confirm that this was all a dream. He smiled just thinking about it. They fell for his fake names and made up lineage so easily, and he would take them, followed by everything they owned before leaving town. He had done so for years now. Perhaps that was why he got grabbed? Did one of those girls know an immortal, and they sent him here to be toyed with?

Just as Ron's thoughts began to run wild, he heard a snarling sound from his left. The young man froze, his head slowly turning to peak at what had made the noise.

It was a beast, one unlike anything he had seen before. It had the head of a boar with long and sharp tusks, a long and sinuous body without limbs, like a snake, only feathery and without scales. It's feathers were standing on end, shaking in an act of aggression as orange heat emanated from the closed maw of the boar-like head.

It was a monster.

'Of course.' he thought to himself, with a strangely calm and resigned attitude. 'These are the woods. The deep woods.'

Ron's shoulders slacked as he realised he would be defenseless against this creature. He didn't know much about immortals or monsters, but he knew that even veteran soldiers with supernatural strength could die to these beasts.

The monster opened its maw and shook its head, projecting a noise somewhere between a bird's cry and a boar's squeal. The sound was harsh and painful to hear, forcing Ron to cup his hands over his ears as he hunched down, his head ringing in pain. He had expected the creature to bite down on him in the next instant, that fiery heat behind its jaws bringing an inevitable death. Instead, what he saw left him dumbfounded.

A long red spear. It shot through and between trees at an incredible, gale producing speed before impaling the sinuous creature in its side. Dark lines ran within the slightly transluscent body of the spear, like black veins that shifted as the impaled creature flailed in anguish, it's long body kicking up clouds of dust and breaking twigs as it withered at a visible rate.

Ron was horrified. The creature was dying. Not like a person died or was killed. It did not bleed out or suffer shock. It was like the creature's life itself was vanishing as its body became old and decrepit before his very eyes.

The young man stared dumbly for seconds as the creature's frame atrophied, its thrashing about dying down with every second as its body grew thin and old. The colours that made up its fur and skin drained to a desaturated grey, until finally, the light in its eyes faded and its body stilled.

The long crimson spear stood in stark contrast to the now ashen coloured creature beneath it. The long polearm stood perpendicular to the horizon as the black veins within it pulsated in a disgusting manner.

Ron's entire body was shaking as he moved his gaze to the direction the deadly instrument had flown from and saw his 'savior'. A boy, likely no older than 15 or 16 by his height, with long and wild black hair, strands falling over his cold face and blue eyes.

The boy stared at him for seconds, instilling fear and realisation in Ron about his current situation. And then finally, opened his mouth to speak in a monotone voice.

"My name is Thirteen, I will be your guardian for the next two days. A pleasure."

——

Thirteen stretched out his left hand to pull the red spear back to him. When it landed in his palm, he dismissed its withering nature and the black veins within disappeared.

This weapon was something Thirteen had been theorising about for the last two years. He had performed many experiments to try and achieve this result earlier, but it had been impossible in the Proliferation realm. He needed a drop of Lifeblood to serve as it's core. And now he had done just that.

The spear, roughly 7 feet in length, turned to crimson liquid as it reformed into a longsword of perfect proportions which Thirteen promptly sheathed at his waist.

Walking past the shaking Ron, Thirteen crouched by the body of the monster. It was a strange looking thing and he didn't recognize it. By the amount of lifeforce it had possessed, Thirteen concluded that it was no stronger than a cultivator halfway through the second stage.

Every drop of blood and life within the monsters body had vanished, absorbed and condensed within the frame of his spear and brought under the control of the drop of Lifeblood within.

Standing once more he looked to the blonde man in his early twenties and snapped him out of his blank stare.

"Come one. We're going back to the alcove."

An instructor had said to Thirteen and his peers in the past that the prime directive of a personal guard was always to protect the life of their charge. If his orders directly and plainly jeopardize this directive, they should be ignored for the sake of the greater purpose.

Thirteen was sure that Mentor Fane would think the same, and thought that perhaps this was one of many grey areas the man wanted to test him on.

If that were the case, then so be it.

He had also 'unfortunately' not reached the man before he could stumble into the territory of that monster. Perhaps Ron would re-evaluate his options after that encounter.

The next nine hours passed slowly and uneventfully. For food, Thirteen had tracked small animals like birds and rabbits, and shot them dead with finger sized projectiles, formed of hardened blood and sharpened to a point. It was harder to train ranged manipulation through bonded will then it was for qi cultivators. After all, daoists could use their Qi to carry their will directly, similarly to how air carries vibrations.

Thirteen was not capable of this, and so learning to control blood externally was a tricky process that couldn't be explained verbally and had to be learned through experience. Shooting projectiles in a straight line though? That was easy, as the night's dinner could attest.

He didn't start a fire as Ron wished, but instead slowly cooked the food with the fine control of heat and expenditure of lifeforce. As far as Thirteen was concerned, the longer they went without being found, the better.