Ujin crossed his legs as the door closed behind the two lords, waiting in silence alongside Bajun, who puffed softly on his pipe. Both men remained calm, with the pit owner speaking first.

  “Well?” Bajun began, “What do you say?”

  Ujin stared at his aching and bruised knuckles with a frown, showing them to Bajun, whose eyes widened for a moment.

  “A lord did that?” Bajun asked incredulously.

  “Not just any lord, one trained well—too well for some backwater borderland sect, don’t you think?” Ujin replied.

  Bajun reclined in his chair. “You think he’s the one, the acolyte of the Talahan Highlord?”

  Ujin continued to examine his knuckles, which refused to heal. His aura seemed to try to seep into the wound, to reknit the flesh, yet it failed each time. He opened his void ring, took out a healing pill, and swallowed it, watching as the bruise began to lighten slowly.

  “Perhaps,” Ujin said, “but it also raises other questions, like the one the heiress spoke about.”

  Bajun’s eyes flicked to him. “The failed rift run,” he said softly.

  “How many people from Crystalreach have you seen walking around on Bloodfire?” Ujin asked as Bajun scratched his head lightly.

  “Then he’s a danger not just to Shimmersteel but to the clan itself,” Bajun responded.

  “That depends. His oaths seem true, and I have a feeling he’s trying to stay under the radar of the Acacia clan—as much as a cultivator of his strength and a blood affinity user can,” Ujin said.

  “So your plan is to use him?” Bajun asked incredulously.

  “We don’t know if the imperial clan sent them here for a reason. The Verdan clan has fallen, and a new sect has risen this close to us. It would be foolish not to monitor the situation,” Ujin said.

  “Then inform the clan, wash your hands of it. The convergence is coming—it’s your only chance to break through to Master,” Bajun replied.

  Ujin snorted. “Since when were you so concerned about advancement? What happened to staying a Highlord until the right time?”

  “What did you think I was waiting for?” Bajun retorted.

  Ujin shook his head, staring at his now-healed knuckles as he spoke. “Besides, the clan has bigger issues than some random lord.”

  Bajun sighed. “They’re still going forward with it?” he asked.

  Ujin nodded calmly.

  “Risky. If they decide to establish a foothold here on Bloodfire, the imperial clan would rain hell down on us,” Bajun warned.

  “Then we pray to the heavens the patriarch finds a way to decline that offer,” Ujin replied.

  A polite knock on the door interrupted their conversation. A small-statured female entered, bowing to the ground.

  “I greet the esteemed Highlords. I bear a message from Bladewater,” she said.

  Ujin turned to the servant in bright blue robes.

  “I bring a message from the Sea Serpent himself: our esteemed guests from the Frostleaf Kingdom have arrived,” she said.

  Ujin frowned. “That was early,” Bajun remarked.

  “Too early,” Ujin replied softly as he got to his feet. “Inform the Sea Serpent that I am on my way,” he said.

  The girl bowed again before leaving politely.

  “It just occurred to me that a few cultivators might decide to go after our friend at the inn,” Bajun said with a light chuckle.

  Ujin smiled as he began walking toward the door. “No one should be that stupid,” he replied, leaving the room.

  ***************************

  Tunde and Sera eventually made their way to the inn, a large, tall yet modest structure just beyond the trading district. Simply known as the White Crane Inn, its interior was somewhat crowded, with a soft tune emanating from a woman playing an instrument in the corner of the room, accompanied by two men leisurely beating small drums. The tavern was a dimly lit, yellow-hued room with well-polished tables and chairs, as well as smooth, gleaming floors.

  Tunde noticed the glances directed their way as soon as they entered the inn but paid them no mind, heading straight for the counter where a woman stood with a soft smile.

  “Welcome to the White Crane Inn. How may I help you?” she asked politely.

  Tunde passed a coin across to her. The woman paused, her eyes flashing with recognition before she quickly slipped the coin into her robes. She bowed slightly. “Welcome, honored guests. How long will you be staying?”

  “A while—a week or two at most,” Tunde replied.

  She nodded, “This way, please,” she said, gesturing towards the stairs, which Tunde promptly ascended.

  As he took his first step up the stairs, he felt the auras from the assembled people in the room lock onto him, undoubtedly assessing him. With a slight push of his own aura, he shrugged them off, he and a tense Sera paying them no mind as they made their way upstairs. To Sera’s embarrassment, the woman assumed they were a couple, apologizing profusely as she handed Sera the key to a separate room. Tunde left a hundred lumens as a gift, leaving the woman with a smile.

  Finally, alone, Sera stopped him before he entered his room. “Downstairs—those eyes on us. Should we be worried?” she asked.

  Tunde paused, considering it. “I sensed a few auras trailing us from the fight pit. Coupled with those downstairs, we’re definitely being monitored. It might be best if we stay on guard,” he replied, her red eyes lighting up.

  “No killing,” he hastily added as the thought occurred to him. “Even if they come for us with killing intent, we cannot kill them—not if we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”

  She nodded calmly and entered her room, closing the door behind her. Tunde heaved a silent sigh of relief, but the door opened again as she tossed the screeching Ethralite creature into his hands. The small lifeform clung to his robes securely, emitting a light sound of comfort.

  “That thing is getting heavier,” she said before firmly closing the door again.

  Tunde stared into its eyes before entering his room, where the creature dropped to the floor and scuttled away into a corner before curling up and falling asleep.

  Ifa manifested; arms tucked into his ethereal robes as he spoke. “How did it feel trading blows with a real cultivator?”

  “I’ve traded techniques with real cultivators before,” Tunde replied, eyeing the bed resting in a corner of the room.

  “Maybe, but how many have truly shown you what raw techniques can do even in the face of overpowering Ethra and aura like yours?” Ifa asked.

  “Varis?” Tunde suggested.

  Ifa pondered for a moment. “I could argue that his abilities have been honed over decades, and he barely showed you anything beyond how to refine your aura while explaining how inadequate the cultivation techniques of the borderlands truly are.”

  Tunde sighed, dropping onto the bed as he crossed his legs, taking a deep breath and cycling his Ethra within his core, feeling it wash away the fatigue within him.

  “You’re getting better at cycling away stress and renewing your Ethra. Thank the heavens for that,” Ifa murmured, and Tunde nodded.

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  Not long ago, he would have needed to consume an elixir or pill, but now, he felt his body breaking down the stolen aura and Ethra he had absorbed from Ujin, filtering it into his core as he exhaled.

  “As I explained to you, recite the core stages of the Void Devourer,” Ifa ordered.

  Tunde inhaled and began, “Lord stage: The stellar seed forms, the core—my core—has begun the initial steps of refining Ethra stolen and essence flames taken from other opponents while tapping into the void aspect of the cosmic concept.”

  Ifa nodded, waving his hand for him to continue.

  “The next stage at Highlord would be the Void Star stage, where I can begin to devour bits of an opponent’s affinity as well as long-sealed rifts,” Tunde said, a burst of excitement swelling within him.

  “I can literally see the glee in your eyes. Are you so eager to face deformed abominations in the infinite void that you would so eagerly unseal them?” Ifa asked with a sigh.

  Tunde shrugged. “You said the fastest way to cultivate and refine cosmic Ethra is to take it from rifts. What better way than to have entire rifts to myself?”

  Ifa chuckled. “Like all the founding cults, the Abyssal Seekers had the advantage of undiluted access to the vast rifts of Adamath during our time. It was our job to ensure no abomination trapped within the rifts of the void made their way into our reality,” Ifa started, his eyes glazing over as Tunde listened.

  “The other cults saw the power we had, even though we stayed within our territory and didn’t intrude on others. Their greed ensured they wanted our rights by bloodline, even when we shared it with them,” he continued with a heavy sigh.

  “I don’t understand,” Tunde said. “If we were as strong as you said, if we had all those resources and powerful cultivators, how did we fall?”

  It still didn’t make sense to him, even considering the other factions coming together to attack them. Ifa hesitated, as if too ashamed to answer.

  “They picked us off one by one, and we didn’t even notice. Or perhaps Alana did and said nothing—I was too blind to see the pattern of our powerful members being taken out by those we considered allies,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Listen well to me, Tunde,” Ifa said, floating closer to him. “If there is one thing you should take from all this, it is that no one—not even those you call your closest allies—is beyond betraying you. Power in our realm is something coveted, even if the price is blood.”

  Tunde nodded, his eyes hardening.

  “Good,” Ifa said, satisfied. “Now, begin.”

  He folded his arms, watching as Tunde fed Ujin’s aura into his stellar seed core. Tunde felt his core shudder as he pushed on, tuning out the noise around him as he focused on refining the Ethra within his core, his aura contracting and expanding around him.

  **************************

  Four men gathered within the tavern of the White Crane, speaking softly among themselves as one discreetly dropped a tiny piece of paper filled with geometric shapes and patterns. Silence formations, sold for as little as five to ten lumens, were weak and short-lived but perfect for a quick, private conversation like the one they were having.

  They had moved discreetly from the fighting pit, their eyes on a particular cultivator who had stood out during the match. The first man, dressed in a robe with no crest or insignia to indicate his allegiance, ordered a meal for all four of them. The woman at the counter brought it on a tray, slipping a sheet of paper beneath it. The man picked it up, read through it, then burned it to a crisp with a soft burst of red flames.

  “First floor, reserved rooms,” he said.

  Another man chuckled; his ragged hair unsuccessfully folded in an attempt to appear neat. He too wore plain brown robes with no crest or insignia.

  “They came with a coin seemingly given by Elder Ujin,” he said, eyeing the others. “Does that not strike you as something related to the clan?”

  The third man, who had been shoveling food into his mouth, paused. “And?” he asked, as if the point eluded him. His bald head and bulky features stood out even as he hunched over the meal, scarfing it down like a hungry beast.

  “What Goya meant to say is that it hardly matters, does it?” the final man, a tattooed figure with a hammer resting at his feet, asked.

  The first man, the one with the flame affinity, sighed. “Luo and Goya are right. It hardly matters. We have his blessings,” he said, his eyes flicking to the image of a white crane on the wall.

  Goya gave a deep rumble as he switched his empty bowl for another full one, scarfing it down as well, much to the flame-affinity man's irritation. “We gather the rest at night. Our patron has assured us that it will go according to plan,” he said as the formation paper fizzled away and the noise from their surroundings permeated their vicinity.

  ***************************

  Tunde ignored the passage of time as he sank deeper into his cultivation, dimly aware of his surroundings. He had left a large quantity of Ethra crystals for the Ethralite, which quietly crunched away at them intermittently, its body absorbing the nutrients as Tunde meditated. There was little he could do at this stage besides refining his aura. His skills flashed before his mind's eye as he analyzed them, searching for any shortcomings.

  His aura touched Sera’s a few times, and Tunde felt the affinity of blood and flesh within her, stifling the urge to recoil in irritation. It felt too strange, even revolting, and yet he could sense strong traces of life energy prevalent within users of blood or flesh affinities—and she possessed both.

  It was not the first time he had been warned about Sera, and the fact that the two Highlords had sensed it was more than concerning. For now, though, he would let her walk her path. There was little he could help her with, as he too was still learning. Tunde knew, however, that they would have to find a solution sooner or later. He just hoped nothing drastic happened before—

  “Tunde,” Ifa said, causing his aura to ripple and drawing him out of his trance. His body was already imbued. Ethra sight flared to life as he saw through the brick walls of the room, the outlines of cultivators creeping up the stairs clearly visible.

  Tunde turned his sight toward Sera’s room, where she stood with her sword drawn. He hissed in anxiousness, getting up and drawing his naginata from his void space. The Ethralite creature perked up curiously, sensing his mood. It watched in silence from the shadows as if assessing him.

  Twirling his bladed staff, Tunde waited quietly, watching to see what the intruders would do. He moved subtly to the wall and rapped on it softly, watching as Sera moved closer to it too.

  “Outside, through the windows,” he said softly, confident that she heard him. The moment the intruders reached their doors, Tunde opened his window, watching as a flame-projected blade shot toward him. He slapped it away with an aura-covered hand, gave a gentle nod, and then jumped out, his aura propelling him through the air as three cultivators followed, their flight techniques as simple as ever.

  The first man, the one with the flame affinity, tossed something into the air as Tunde realized it was pitch dark outside and the streets were eerily empty. The long paper glowed before attaching itself to the side of a wall, a pulse of power rippling through its surroundings.

  “Silence formation—shoddy work. It shouldn’t last more than a few minutes,” Ifa said as Tunde floated in the air, gripping his weapon tightly.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Tunde demanded as he sensed Sera floating unsteadily toward his side, her sword drawn. There were more than six cultivators surrounding them, all visible through Ethra sight. Tunde found his sight at the edges of the formation muddied.

  “Your sight hasn’t grown enough to pierce through even flimsy veils like that one. Focus on them,” Ifa advised, no doubt noticing his distraction.

  “We couldn’t help but come find the latest champion of the pit—the Dark Wolf, was it?” the flame affinity user said, drawing a blade that ignited with fire. Tunde noted the irony of a cultivator with such an affinity in a city owned by a water-affinity clan.

  “And you’ve found me. Does this meeting also include trying to kill me?” Tunde asked, cocking his head to the side. He was hoping to buy time for the formation to fizzle out, but it seemed the cultivator caught on. He pointed his blade at Tunde.

  “The first to bring me his head gets a large share of the spoils,” the flame affinity user declared.

  “Still think we should spare them?” Sera asked, her aura flaring as her muscles tightened. She shot forward towards the first cultivator coming their way.

  Tunde released his void realm, swallowing their surroundings as all projectile techniques were devoured in the blink of an eye. Tunde trusted Ethra sight to guide him.

  The flame affinity user stood back, watching as his men advanced. Clearly the leader, Tunde paid him no mind as he parried the blow of the first cultivator—a simple man with wind and blade affinities—before relieving him of his sword arm, ignoring the screams of pain behind him. He pushed on, cutting and parrying, his weapon coated with his aura as his simple, precise moves cut them down one by one.

  What had started as a smile on the flame affinity user’s face slowly turned to a frown as Tunde easily dispatched his men, holding back to ensure the wounds weren’t lethal. Tunde sent his weapon back into his void ring and asked Ifa, “Are they that weak, or am I that good?” He was puzzled, especially with the screams of pain coming from Sera’s direction. Tunde silently prayed she wasn’t actually killing them.

  “More of the former, less of the latter. Your skills and techniques have been honed against those significantly stronger than you. Against mid-stage and early-stage lords? It’s child’s play,” Ifa replied with a hint of surprise.

  As Tunde broke the arm of the last attacker in front of him, a swift kick to the ribs sent the cultivator spinning through the air before slamming violently into the ground. Tunde turned his attention to the flame user, who could only blink in disbelief.

  The entire fight hadn’t lasted more than a few minutes, and the bodies of his companions lay strewn across the ground, blood everywhere. Tunde idly wondered what the residents of this district would think come morning.

  To the cultivator’s credit, he didn’t run. His weapon alight with flames, he released a barrage of projectile techniques at Tunde, but his void realm snuffed them out as a bloodied Sera began moving toward him. Tunde raised a hand to halt her.

  “This is pointless,” he said, trying to understand the man’s intentions. “If what you say is true, and you saw me in the pit, you know exactly what I can do. And yet, you thought to come rob me?” he asked.

  The cultivator trembled, fear evident in his eyes, before his dominion burst forth, dozens of flame blades tearing through the air toward Tunde. Expanding his realm to absorb most of the attacks, Tunde tracked the cultivator who shot toward the edge of the formation.

  Tunde moved in an instant, grabbing the man by the scruff of the neck and slamming him into the side of a building before tossing him aside. He watched as the bloodied lord realm cultivator struggled to get back on his feet. Tunde was on him in a flash, delivering rapid blows that broke bones before slamming a palm to his neck, cutting off his cry. The man sank to his knees, choking on his own saliva.

  Tunde realized he hadn’t deactivated his void realm, its dominion technique cutting off the man’s imbuement and projection abilities as his blade clattered to the ground.

  “That’s strange,” Ifa murmured.

  “What is?” Tunde asked, turning his attention to the sentience.

  “The formation—it should be down by now, but it isn’t,” Ifa replied.

  Tunde turned his attention back to the man, only to find he had passed out.