Tunde reluctantly turned to face Zehra as the door to his room burst open, revealing a struggling Sera who stumbled in. Unsure of what had happened to her or why she looked as though she had survived life-threatening injuries, Tunde quickly got to his feet and guided her gently to the ground, where she reclined against the wall with a grateful sigh.

  “What happened to you?” he asked, his back turned to the Acacia heir. Though he wasn’t worried about protecting himself—he could react in time if needed—he doubted Zehra would do something as foolish as risking her patriarch’s wrath.

  “I came after you, against the rift guardian,” Sera began, her voice tired. Tunde reflexively produced a skin of water from his void ring and handed it to her. She nodded gratefully, drinking deeply.

  “Waterskins?” Zehra remarked condescendingly, but Sera shot her an irritated look, pure loathing written all over her features. Zehra huffed, clearly insulted but choosing not to stoop to their level. Tunde was fine with that; he had bigger issues to deal with than overpampered clan heirs.

  “I couldn’t reach you—there was a barrier,” Sera explained, swallowing as she spoke. “Then the Highlord got me out just as I was close to breaking through.”

  “You were closer to cutting yourself with that… weapon of yours than breaking through a barrier formation placed by that abomination of a tier 5 rift guardian,” Zehra interrupted again, and Tunde sighed. Zehra was right, of course—there was no way Sera could have breached the creature’s barrier unless it allowed it. Yet Tunde found himself irritated with the heiress.

  Calmly, he turned to her, keeping his voice even. “Lady Zehra, pardon me, but could we speak some other time?” he asked gently.

  Zehra bristled. “I’m here at the insistence of my grandfather, nothing more,” she replied, her tone icy. Clearly, she was reminding Tunde of her position.

  “I understand,” Tunde responded, his voice still calm. “But I believe we have more than enough time to spend together, should you wish it. Besides, I’m sure the three Lord Realm cultivators just outside my door speak volumes about how much your guests from the Frozen Petal Clan value your safety—almost as if they don’t believe you can defend yourself.” His words were pointed, and all eyes turned toward the door.

  Tunde could sense the auras of the Frozen Petal Sect members as they unshrouded themselves, likely surprised that he had detected them. Sera hissed in dismay. “I saw nothing,” she said as Tunde nodded absentmindedly.

  “Lie back and rest—you need it,” he instructed, producing large quantities of tier 4 fruits and life-aura-infused water for her. Sera bit into the rich fruits in silence.

  “Do you always walk around with so many resources?” Zehra asked as she got to her feet and moved toward the door.

  “What respectable cultivator doesn’t?” Tunde replied, paying her no further attention as she opened the door and spoke softly to the cultivators outside. Their auras vanished, and Tunde watched as Sera quickly fell asleep.

  “She must have left the care of the rejuvenators—they would never let her out of their sight if they knew she was this weakened,” Zehra commented softly. Tunde stood, folding his arms behind him as he turned to face her.

  “She’s strong; she’ll live. How may I help you, Lady Zehra?” Tunde asked, cutting to the chase.

  Zehra frowned. “You’re rude,” she remarked.

  “And you made it clear that you wanted nothing to do with me—a sentiment I honestly quite share,” Tunde responded.

  “You stole from me, you thief,” Zehra hissed, her anger flaring.

  Tunde raised an eyebrow. “And you and your adepts wanted to kill me over a tier 4 rift crystal. I find that fair, don’t you?”

  “You will respect my clan and address me as befits my status,” she demanded, her aura beginning to waft out.

  Tunde stepped closer, unleashing his own aura despite the pain it caused him. “And I am a lowly cultivator who no longer has any reason to fear or be bothered by you,” he said, his voice firm.

  He suppressed the tremors in his nerves, feeling a pressure building in his heart—an uncomfortable sensation he couldn’t quite explain. Zehra snapped her aura off, and Tunde followed suit, letting out a silent sigh of relief as he managed to sit back down, legs folded, and stared at her.

  “Do you have any idea the ridicule and shame I incurred for failing to secure a single tier 4 rift?” she asked softly.

  “You’re alive, aren’t you?” Tunde responded.

  “What does that mean?” she asked, struggling to contain her rage. Tunde silently applauded her—it seemed she wasn’t all pomp and show.

  “It means that where I come from, mistakes often lead to death. You fought for honor and glory; I fought in that rift for my very survival. Every fight I’ve been in since has been for survival, not for the glory of some clan or person,” Tunde explained.

  “You think I’m privileged? I’ve fought for everything I have right here and now,” Zehra countered.

  Tunde inclined his head. “That may be, and I applaud it—for only through adversity do we become sharpened weapons. But perhaps, had you not been so hostile in the rift, even allying with Thalas—who’s dead, by the way—things might have turned out differently.”

  “You speak as if the Lord of Clan Verdan would have allowed such an alliance. We both entered that rift with the intent to eliminate any opposition, so spare me your attempts at innocence,” Zehra retorted.

  Tunde shrugged. “They did; I didn’t. I and the elder with me came seeking resources and a suitable training ground for me. You didn’t even give me a chance to explain.”

  Zehra remained silent, staring at him. Tunde sighed and shut his eyes. “What did you do with the rift crystal?” she asked.

  Tunde cracked his neck gently. “Sold it, I believe. Why?”

  “Then you owe me,” she declared, a haughty edge to her tone.

  Tunde sighed again, opening his eyes. “Yes, I owe—but not you. I owe your patriarch, the venerable master, to keep my word while in Shimmersteel. To not draw blade nor fist nor technique. And I intend to honor that promise,” he finished quietly.

  Zehra gritted her teeth, then abruptly turned and walked out of the room.

  “I’m not sure why you did that, but I like it,” Sera groaned from where she lay, causing Tunde to give her a sad smile as he turned to face her. He studied her pale form, noting the dark circles under her eyes as she cracked one open to look at him.

  “You look like you could pierce my skull with that gaze,” she said, as Tunde shuffled closer to her.

  “Are the fruits working?” he asked.

  “A bit. I just need some rest,” she replied, closing her eyes again. Tunde nodded to himself, glancing back at the door.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Sera continued, “she’s spoiled and wouldn’t last a month in the wastelands, but it seems like she genuinely wants to settle things with you.”

  Tunde doubted the first part of her statement. Zehra was trained, a lethal Lord Realm cultivator who knew her worth. His issue with her was that her sense of worth was overinflated.

  “She’s acting at her patriarch’s behest; anything else is just for show,” he replied softly, feeling his core shudder within him, a sensation that left him both confused and curious.

  “Either way, the sooner we get out of this city, the better,” Sera said.

  “For once, I agree with you, but it’s also the safest place for us—for now, at least,” Tunde replied.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Perhaps,” Sera murmured before rolling onto her side, instantly falling asleep.

  Tunde got up, locked the door, and then sat back down on the floor, folding his legs beneath him. Shutting his eyes, he spoke within his mind. “Ifa?”

  There was no response. Tunde frowned and delved deeper into himself, observing his dark grey core, which had grown larger, pulsing with every breath he took.

  “Amazing, isn’t it?” Ifa’s voice suddenly spoke next to him. Tunde’s ethereal form shivered as he turned to see the pale sentience still taking Elder Joran’s form.

  “Where have you been? What happened in that rift?” Tunde asked, noting the being’s smile.

  “The answers to those questions are more complicated than you can imagine. It’s better for you to see it with your own eyes,” Ifa replied.

  “See what?” Tunde asked, confused.

  Ifa’s gaze drifted to the core. “Your core is still too sore to handle the process. Perhaps we should wait until you’ve fully recovered,” Ifa said thoughtfully.

  “I still don’t understand a word you’re saying,” Tunde replied, irritation creeping into his voice.

  Ifa sighed, rubbing his beard as he considered how to explain. “Our path, our bloodline, grants us certain abilities due to our divine nature,” he began. “We walk the path between realms, the void, the deepest recesses of existence that would rip apart all but the strongest of cultivators. It’s a blessing from Luwaye, one that few within his bloodline can even gain, much less wield.”

  Tunde listened intently, though still puzzled. “But to walk that path, a space is needed to protect those who have the ability to do so. We call it a domain,” Ifa continued.

  “Not dominion?” Tunde asked, frowning.

  Ifa shook his head. “Dominion is merely a cultivator imposing their concept on others, using it to batter enemies into submission. Domains, on the other hand, are powerful, terrible pieces of reality molded to the nature or preference of the cultivator,” he explained.

  “I see. And I’m guessing it’s not something I can use at my current stage of advancement, right?” Tunde asked, sighing.

  Ifa blinked at him innocently. “Right?”

  “Domains are… volatile. Your body needs to be strong enough to exist within one, or you’ll be crushed,” Ifa said.

  “That wasn’t the question I asked,” Tunde replied.

  “If you’re too weak, you’ll cease to exist, leaving a piece of reality floating in the void. But if you’re strong enough—well, there’s no downside to that, is there?” Ifa said with a laugh.

  Realization dawned on Tunde. “You created a domain within me?” he asked, eyes shifting from his pulsing core back to Ifa, who winced.

  “The opportunity was there, to be honest. It’s not something that comes around often,” Ifa admitted.

  “What happens to me, then? What stage do cultivators usually—”

  “Paragon,” Ifa interjected, causing Tunde to freeze, eyes wide.

  “Have no fear!” Ifa cried out with forced enthusiasm. “As long as you let it settle within your body until you reach the realm of Master, you should be strong enough to handle most of the affinities you’ve infused into your concept!”

  “What’s the consequence of this?” Tunde asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.

  “What?” Ifa asked, feigning innocence.

  “You somehow created a domain within me—something I barely understand. But I’ve learned that sudden power doesn’t come without consequences. So what are they?” Tunde asked again, slowly.

  Ifa shrugged. “I wouldn’t really call it power, to be honest. As I said, your core and body aren’t strong enough to handle physically manifesting within—”

  “Ifa,” Tunde gritted out, trying to stay calm as a feeling of unease settled over him.

  The sentience hesitated before finally speaking. “Slower advancements,” he said, causing Tunde’s eyes to widen.

  “What do you mean?” Tunde asked, his heart pounding.

  “Domains require a lot of resources—Ethra affinity crystals and the like—to fully come to completion. It means most of your resources will go toward it, with my help shaping it, of course,” Ifa explained, as if trying to reassure him.

  “So it will slow me down,” Tunde whispered.

  “But the rewards are worth it! You’ll begin to gain complete mastery over your concept and all the affinities you’ve gathered. You’ll become attuned to the laws of—ack!” Ifa suddenly choked, as if something had stopped him from speaking.

  Breathing deeply, Ifa continued in a softer tone. “There are too many things I can’t reveal to you right now. The heavenly laws won’t permit it,” he said, raising a hand to stop Tunde from speaking as he struggled to breathe. Tunde wondered why a spirit would need to breathe anyway. “But I swear on what’s left of my soul and existence that this will elevate you to such a high level that cultivators of your rank will seem like mere adepts. Those above you will have to go the extra mile to kill you—assuming they even can,” Ifa finished.

  Tunde was left with more questions than answers as he stared at the sentience for a few moments. “How did you even accomplish this?” he finally asked.

  “I told you, I was a very proficient arcanist in my time, before they stopped teaching cultivators the language of the heavens,” Ifa replied with a soft smile.

  Tunde nodded, turning his attention back to his core. “I have no idea why I trust you this much, but I can only hope it doesn’t come back to bite me,” he murmured.

  Ifa chuckled softly. “We share the same fate, you and I. Whatever happens to you happens to me. I can only act in your best interest,” he said. “Our enemies are all around us—manipulators disguised as allies, foes lying in wait, and our home in ruins.”

  Facing Tunde, Ifa continued, “Now is not the time to show your strength. Now is the time to gather as much power and resources as you can. Varis wants to use us? Fine. We’ll milk him for everything Clan Talahan has to offer. The patriarch of Clan Acacia thinks we’ll fall under his debt? Fine. We’ll make sure our very existence is too costly for him to manage.”

  Tunde stared at him in silence.

  “We are attempting to raise the cult of a divine beast once more, seeking vengeance for what was stolen from us. We cannot afford to be nice or just. We will do what we must. Do you understand what I’m saying, Tunde?” Ifa asked carefully.

  Tunde reflexively clenched his fists and nodded.

  Satisfied with the response, Ifa exhaled. “Good. Do you still have the list of items for the path of the Void Devourer that I gave you?”

  Tunde nodded.

  “Good. And the patriarch gave you an aurum card to spend as you wish?” Ifa asked again, noticing the beginnings of a smile etching across Tunde’s face.

  “Soon,” Ifa said, his tone laced with anticipation. “But first, you need to heal, rest... Oh, and something happened to the Ethralite.”

  Ifa’s bemused smile gave Tunde pause.

  ******************

  Tunde stared in astonishment at the now-transformed Ethralite sitting in front of him. It was larger, more humanoid in appearance, with its crystal carapace now a darker shade of green, bordering on black. The creature, once barely reaching his knees, now stood almost as tall as his waist and exuded the Ethra of an adept.

  The Ethralite’s mandibles clacked softly as it regarded him silently.

  “You left it within your void space, which is now fused with the seeding domain you have,” Ifa explained as Tunde cocked his head to the side, the creature mimicking his movement.

  “I can’t hide it within the folds of my robes anymore,” Tunde said softly to the floating presence next to him.

  Ifa chuckled. “You certainly can’t, but it should be safe within the domain—a bit isolated, but safe,” Ifa remarked.

  “Didn’t you say nothing short of a master or paragon could survive within it without being crushed to paste?” Tunde asked.

  “Indeed. But the Ethralite, true to its name, is a creature of nature and Ethra. It can survive almost anywhere, even in that domain,” Ifa reassured him.

  The creature wobbled as it took its first steps on two limbs, its insect-like digits trying to grasp the ground firmly. It moved toward where Sera slept, her pale features now returned to normal. It paused next to her head, placing one digit on it before glancing at Tunde and clattering its mandibles.

  “Is it expecting me to understand?” Tunde asked hesitantly.

  “You’re the one with the bond to it,” Ifa replied with a shrug.

  Tunde felt the small spark he shared with the creature light up, its emotions washing over him: worry, confusion, protectiveness. Tunde stared at the creature dubiously. “It feels some sort of bond with Sera as well,” he said.

  Ifa turned to the creature. “You’re wary of it,” he observed.

  “It was formed from what remained of the tyrant. I have reason to be wary of it,” Tunde replied.

  Ifa nodded. “True, but I see it as a new creature, birthed from the destruction of an older one. You will decide what path it follows.”

  Tunde considered Ifa’s words before nodding in agreement. Taking out the piece of paper where he had written the necessary items for the Void Devourer, he got to his feet. The Ethralite turned to him as Tunde pointed at Sera.

  “Protect her,” he instructed, willing the command through their bond. The Ethralite responded with a fiercer tone of agreement, and Tunde smiled before leaving the room.

  ***********************

  With the aurum card courtesy of the Acacia clan in hand, Tunde made his way to the trading district, asking for directions to the largest merchants of cultivation items. He found himself at a large shop that could easily pass for an apartment building. The Lord Realm guards at the entrance halted him, but their eyes widened when he flashed the aurum card, and they quickly cleared the doorway for him, leading him to what appeared to be an area of the Oak Seed Pavilion, as it was called.

  Another flash of his card and a designated servant was assigned to attend to his every need—a strikingly beautiful woman with a permanent smile on her face.

  “Venerable Lord,” she greeted, her voice soft and silky as Ifa chuckled next to Tunde. “How may your humble servant assist you today?”

  Tunde raised an eyebrow. “I’m in need of some… let’s say, rare items,” he replied, handing her the list. She accepted it with a bow, though Tunde noticed a hint of discomfort in her demeanor.

  Her eyes widened as she read through the list, and she glanced back at him hesitantly. “Pardon me, Venerable Highlord, but these are truly expensive items. The moonflower, for instance, costs as much as a thousand lumens for a single piece,” she explained.

  “How much will we need?” Tunde asked Ifa silently.

  “As much of all those items as we can get,” Ifa replied, materializing next to him, visible only to Tunde.

  Tunde nodded. “I see. No problem. I’ll need as much of all those items as the pavilion can afford to sell me.”

  The woman blinked in surprise before hurrying over to a man seated at a counter, who was bored counting lumens and handing out pouches of resources to cultivators. She whispered in his ear, showing him the list. His eyes widened as he glanced at Tunde, then back at the list.

  The man dragged a nearby servant, who was busy arranging items on a tall shelf, whispered hurriedly to him, and then ignored the queue, approaching Tunde with a wide smile.

  “Greetings, Venerable Lord. May we interest you in a bottle of our finest wine while you wait?” he offered, gesturing for Tunde to follow.