Subduing a Powerful Treasure

Before Farmer's eyes could fix themselves on whatever was inside the chest, an immensely powerful blast of raw energy burst forth and crashed against him and sent him flying. Reacting from pure instinct, Farmer pulled out his staff and willed it to increase in length. He stuck one end of it into the surface of Krieg's ship to anchor him from being sent out to sea and was able to stop his momentum after travelling to the ship's balustrade.

The energy emitted from the chest did not abate and slowly morphed itself into a revolving vortex that kept Farmer in his airborne position. Despite the initial violence, this energy was peaceful and seemed to want to merge itself with the Heavens and the Earth. Farmer knew that this was the tell-tale sign that whatever arcane artefact was contained within the chest did not have an owner to claim it. This was a great fortune, indeed!

Pulling himself down to stand on the ship's deck, he spat out two mouthfuls of blood and inspected his body for any damage. To his surprise, a few of his ribs were cracked. How could this be? He thought. His body had gone through so much tempering that it had long become as strong as magically reinforced steel. Few were the sorcerers powerful enough to cause him an injury. Yet this treasure was capable of doing so with its aura alone?

"Move away. Dangerous. Stay away! Peril! Not worth it! YOU WILL FAIL!" Hollered the voices in his head. It was as if they feared whatever was in the chest. Ignoring them completely, Farmer sent his spiritual sense to try to catch a glimpse at whatever was causing this phenomenon. To his dismay, his spirit was instantly cut off as soon as it came into contact with the contents of the chest.

Now Farmer truly understood why the anonymous array master had gone to such lengths to seal this treasure; it was because it was an artefact of the highest grade! Perhaps even a treasure from primordial times! This made Farmer's heart palpitate in anticipation. In addition, he was very happy that he hadn't thrown the chest away. Had this item fallen into the wrong hands, the consequences would genuinely have been catastrophic. And now, this treasure would belong solely to him!

"Move away. Dangerous. Stay away! Peril! Not worth it! You will die! YOU WILL FAIL!"

Bracing himself and gathering his energy to form a protective layer around his body, Farmer began taking a few steps towards the now open chest. The first few steps were easy enough, as he merely struggled with the repulsing force of the raw energy. However, when he was twenty steps away from the chest, a change suddenly occurred.

It was as if the treasure could feel Farmer's covetous heart because the energy transformed into blades that twisted and turned like malevolent phantoms. Each of these invisible blades wouldn't cut through Farmer's clothing, but they would leave thin scars on his skin. In a few breaths, Farmer was covered in his own blood from head to toe. Still, this was a level of damage that was visually stunning but not life-threatening. Thus, Farmer's steps continued moving without interruption.

"Move away. Dangerous. Stay away! Peril! Not worth it! You will die! YOU WILL FAIL!" The voices were growing more frantic, too; the repeated the same words over and over again and Farmer had to wonder whether his body or his mind would collapse under the pressure first. And still he refused to stop.

His progress was constant until he was ten paces away from the chest, when another change in the energy took place.

Here, the energy blades became more baleful. Instead of targeting his skin, they turned even more abstract and aimed at his soul. With each blade coursing through him, a small portion of his soul would be cut away and cast to oblivion. This was a kind of injury that implied the greatest of pains! It was so intense, that he could hear the voices no longer under the brutal onslaught of the energy blades.

Spitting out another mouthful of blood, Farmer had to use of every fibre of his being to not scream out in agony. He was experiencing true pain. True agony. A kind of torture no ordinary mortal could endure and remain sane.

But Farmer was no ordinary mortal!

He had pushed through much worse!

What he had had to endure was far more terrible!

Gritting his teeth so hard that they almost cracked, he forced his body forward. With each new step, the vortex churned with greater fury. It seemed as if its reason for existing was to tear Farmer's being to shreds. Each one of his nerves was igniting and sending burning signals of true agony to his brain. It was unbearable.

But Farmer was nothing if not determined. He had spent his entire life pushing himself to greater heights by challenging the boundary between life and death. Where almost everyone else would give up, he would push through. Because it was only in that precise, minute, space, wherein his survival was uncertain, that he unerringly felt alive. It was the feeling of his blood boiling in anticipation that drove him forward. He needed to find an answer to the question: can I live through this?

Like that, instead of crying out from this torturous experience like a normal man, Farmer grinned in glee and jumped the last few feet separating him from the chest. Placing his hands inside, he felt a hexagonal shape fall within his grasp.

As soon as he touched this object, the vortex of energy funnelled its way through his energy channels, wreaking havoc wherever it passed; destroying his mind, body, and spirit.

Refusing to give in, Farmer began forcefully circulating the raging energy in a given pattern through his body. With each circulation, a portion of the energy would be absorbed into his energy centre, and the rest would slowly merge once more with the cosmos. However, to fully bring this energy under his control, he would have to circulate it hundreds, if not thousands, of times. And each circulation would cause him an agony unlike any he had ever experienced before. If he paused, even for half a second, before this process was complete, he knew he would die a miserable death.

Dauntless to the consequences, he kept cultivating.

One circulation was successful. Then ten; fifty; one hundred; one thousand; two thousand two hundred and twenty-two circulations passed and, finally, the energy threatening him disappeared without a trace. No, that's wrong, thought Farmer. The energy was bubbling inside him, revitalizing him and healing all of his injuries. The feeling was marvellous to the extreme!

This wasn't the end.

His energy centre was overflowing with a newfound arcane power. This power burst forth from his centre and radiated its might upon every single cell and fibre of his body. Bones and muscles hardened, his spirit was strengthened, and his mind became clearer. Turning his head up to the night sky, Farmer bellowed in pure ecstasy. His shout raged across the waves and could be heard for one hundred miles away and many were the creatures who fled from it. This was a mighty proclamation of one who had achieved something incredible!

Farmer had broken through!

He couldn't believe it! After so many years, he had finally broken through! Could this truly be a sign from the Heavens that his curse was close to being lifted? Could this mean that he was on the right path? Whatever the answer to these questions was, the fact remained that he had finally broken through. Furthermore, the voices in his head had gone silent for the first time in what felt like aeons. The jubilance in his heart could not be expressed with mere words.

And yet, he could not afford to relax.

Farmer could feel that the artefact in his hands had had its defences crumble under his incessant efforts. This was the crucial moment where he would only have one chance to successfully have his spiritual sense refine the object.

A treasure of such power would have developed its own spiritual consciousness. Although this gave it the ability to grow alongside its owner; thus becoming the product of infinite potential. However, only the sorcerer who refined its spiritual consciousness within their own spirit would ever have the right to call themselves as the treasure's true owner. And the only time when this was possible, was when the item's defences had been torn down; just like at that very moment.

Forcing himself back into a determined state of mind, he sent his spiritual sense inside the hexagonal object. This time, his spirit wasn't cut off and he was able to fully inspect the treasure.

It was a compass. A rather strange one, at that. Despite it bearing all the markings of a regular compass, there wasn't any arrow pointing in any direction. Plus, it was the circumference around it that always turned to point North. Furthermore, as soon as he sent his spiritual sense into the compass, he was met with a vast consciousness waiting for him.

This consciousness was devoid of any emotion and worldly desire. All it expressed was an intense will to live. Farmer knew instantly that this was truly a heaven-defying object that had originated from the primordial era.

Unafraid of the consciousness' reprisal, Farmer began mixing his spiritual sense within the compass' consciousness. At first, the compass resisted, suspecting the man holding it to be the one responsible for its incarceration. However, upon ascertaining that Farmer had been the one to set it free, it was brimming with gratitude.

Farmer understood that this compass had never seen anything of the world since its creation Naosh knows how many aeons ago. Hence, he started sending it some of his memories and experiences. The compass was enthralled and absorbed every image sent into it eagerly, like a nomad drinking from an oasis after they nearly thirsted to death. With each memory, the bond between Farmer and the compass grew stronger and more intense. Finally, the compass acknowledged Farmer as its true master and disappeared from his hands.

For a moment, Farmer was worried that the compass had travelled to some unknown location. To his relief, he quickly noticed its presence within his mind. At the same time, a tattoo of a compass had appeared on the back of his left hand. Calling it forth with his thoughts, the compass appeared in his grip and flung itself open.

"It is indeed as my master taught me." Farmer said to himself. "The only way to genuinely own a treasure like this is to earnestly befriend it."

Pleased beyond belief, Farmer sent the compass back into his mind. Regardless of his desire to examine it in detail and to discover its secrets, he knew that too much time had passed and that he needed to make his way back to Alana's Regret to resume their voyage.

Looking around, he saw his ship anchored five miles away. Using his spiritual sense, he was able to cover Alana's Regret with ease. He was relieved to sense that nothing had happened during his seclusion and that his crew seemed to be fine. When out at sea, there was always a risk of a storm passing or a dreaded beast attacking. Thankfully, this wasn't the case and he could send a signal out to them. Before sending the signal to have his crew pick him up, however, he needed to destroy the concealing arrays hiding him. Otherwise, they would never spot him.

Just as he was about to do so, a thought crossed his mind. Maybe it would be better to leave the arrays on the ships and allow them to slowly sink to the depths of the sea. That way, he would have an added layer of protection from any potential pursuers greedy for his compass. Although he didn't fear for his own wellbeing, he knew that his crew might not be able to survive such an encounter.

As such, Farmer grabbed his staff and struck down with all his might. He used so much strength that, with merely a single swing, both the vessels exploded into a thousand pieces. Grinning at the extent of his newfound power, Farmer jumped from the deck of Krieg's ship towards Alana's Regret.

He managed to jump a little over two thirds of the distance separating him from his ship before he fell into the dark waters of the sea. Still, he wasn't worried. With his spiritual sense scouring an area of two hundred miles around him, he could easily tell that there weren't any dangers nearby. Swimming as fast as he could, he was able to close the gap in just a matter of minutes.

Floating on the side of his ship's hull, a devious thought crossed his mind. Surely, no one had noticed that he was done with his seclusion. Furthermore, his arrays would have hidden the fact that he'd sunk the other two vessels. There was no way in the Thirteen Hells that anyone knew he was currently floating right beside them. Thus, he decided he would sneak back on board and spend the rest of the night in his chamber.

In the morning, when everyone was busy carrying out their daily activities, he would surprise them and suddenly appear out of thin air. He might even catch a few of them slacking off or talking about him behind his back! The notion filled him with sinister pleasure. If he managed to do this right, he would leave a permanent scar in some people's minds.

Silently laughing to himself, Farmer ascended onto the deck of his ship. Merging into the shadows, he moved like the wind as he made his way to his chamber. He also made a mental note to carve out a protection array in the morning, to stop others with less amicable intentions from doing what he was doing at this very moment.

Swift as thought, and effortlessly avoided the patrolling sailors, he was able to make his way to the door of his room without alerting a single soul of his presence in just a few breaths of time. He was surprised upon arriving, however, to see that the door had been left unlocked because he distinctly remembered ordering Lampa to lock it in his absence. Maybe during the time he'd been absent there'd been a need to go into his chamber for a particular reason, reasoned Farmer.

Shrugging to himself, he quietly opened the door and entered his abode. Inside, it was dark with the exception of the moonlight creeping in from the window. Despite the darkness, Farmer was perfectly capable of seeing everything as clearly as if it were noon. Hence, he could see a strange strewn about under his blankets. It seemed as if something was sleeping on his bed.

Laughing to himself, Farmer wondered when Wolfie had learned to get under his blankets. Ah, Wolfie, he cursed to himself. What a dreadful name… He sighed. Then again, she herself had expressed her preference for it. What could he do but respect her wishes?

Pushing those memories to one side, Farmer began undressing. His clothes were completely wet, so he needed to take everything off. Once completely undressed, he tied his hair up with a leather band and lazily made his way to bed. Not wanting to disturb Wolfie from her slumber, he delicately pulled the blankets to one side and let himself lie down beside her.

Instantly, he felt a warm pair of tender hands land on his chest; followed by a leg wrapping itself gently around his thighs.

Something was wrong. Seriously wrong.

Hands? A Leg? The body beside him wasn't Wolfie! It was a person who was lying beside him!

The first thing he wanted to do was to pounce up with all his speed and dash away from this room. Thankfully, more rational thoughts quickly prevailed and a better course of action was being drafted in his mind. He had been able to enter the bed without waking this person, right? Then, surely, he should be able to get up without doing startling them, right?

Thus, he began pealing this person's hands and leg off of him delicately. At first, he was successful. But, just as he was about to sit up and leave his bed, tragedy struck.

A tired face emerged from beneath his pillow and turned to face him. For a moment, Farmer was struck by the beauty of the golden locks of hair falling chaotically on this perfectly smooth face. Then, the face slowly blinked itself awake and Farmer found himself staring intently into the chestnut brown eyes of Serena, unable to say anything.

It took a few seconds for Serena to realise the full extent of the situation. Yet, when she did, she screamed at the top of her lungs.