Tim - Tim’s Realm - Temple of Purgation
Doing my best to ignore the pain radiating from my right arm, I continued meditating. Visualising the process of gradually absorbing the malefic invasive Chi that had attached itself to the circulatory system of my arm.
The lingering effects of a curse that had been intended to take my life, the Technique had not been developed with a target of my proportions in mind. While still dangerous if left untreated, the attack had proven more fatal for the Cultivator who had cast it. Claiming his life on the spot, while only temporarily disabling the use of my arm. Albeit, while also causing a considerable degree of pain, I saw to having it removed.
The powerful Cultivators, especially those ruling over their own Realms, were not in the habit of sharing their knowledge voluntarily. So, with the primary practitioner dead as a consequence of our dispute, I had only the Lord's surviving disciples and family members' limited knowledge of the Technique to serve as a blueprint for safely dispelling it from my body.
Naturally, they had not provided their assistance willingly. Intending to leverage the scraps of knowledge they held in exchange for inordinate favours and positions within my own Realm. However, their arrogance had collapsed and turned to desperate bargaining once Gric began taking their bargaining chips through telepathic means.
I was not opposed to leaving certain institutions intact. To better facilitate a transition of power and minimise suffering. On the provision that those institutions abided by my laws and those running them passed Gric's audits.
The Challenges were becoming so frequent that I had to remind myself not to blindly accept each of them as a matter of course. My dramatic rise in controlled territories had raised my ranking as well, drawing attention from the most powerful Lords of the Cultivation Realms.
The battles and duels had become increasingly dangerous as a result. With few underestimating me and mine, as others had done before. Alliances were also becoming commonplace, with threats of retaliation and coordinated revenge as increasingly credible threats rather than hollow bravado or desperate attempts at strengthening a bargaining position for surrender.
Two attempts at invading my Realm through alternative means to the Challenges had been thwarted thus far. Cultivators using storage devices smuggled unknowingly by merchants from other Realms and into my own through otherwise approved channels. Failing only because of rigorous custom checkpoints and the layered partitioning of my Realm.
Similar plots from Conquered territories failed for largely the same reasons. However, instances of the defeated Cultivators engaging in mass exterminations post integration were becoming disturbingly commonplace. The loyalist forces of the enemy Lords, given and obeying orders to cull the populations as a demented campaign of strategic resource denial.
Overdue for respite from the seemingly endless battles and carnage, thoughts of spending time with my children and Lash made the meditation that much harder.
"Tyrant, my grip cannot hold against this tide!" Zhou Min warned, sweat beading on her brow as she and a small cabal of Daemonic cultivators arrayed about my arm continued their efforts in draining and devouring the cursed Chi from my system by more direct means.
She was right. The negative emotions and slip in my control had caused more Chi than I had intended to pass from my body and into theirs. Coming dangerously close to overwhelming the weakest amongst them. An outcome that would potentially expedite my recovery, but almost certainly cause near irreparable damage to the Daemonic Cultivators themselves.
With little to no foundational knowledge to draw from as a reference, Zhou Min's proposal to excise the curse and consume it as a tool for the development of herself and the other Cultivators had accelerated my recovery considerably. The minor weakening of my internal energy was an acceptable price for the rapid return to peak fighting form. Especially since the lost internal energy wasn't being wasted. Providing a permanent boost in strength to Zhou Min and the Daemonic Cultivators.
It was just a shame that Gric and Sebet could not participate.
While weaker than I, they were both sufficiently powerful that attempting to leech my contaminated internal energy would be considered an attack on my person. Which they were both forbidden from doing. Gric through his Oaths, and Sebet by adherence to our Contract.
Wraithe's medical endeavours had already proven that certain forms of harm were permissible. However, there were also inconvenient limitations resulting from the original Oaths. Abrading dead and dying sections of skin and flesh was perfectly acceptable. Attempting the removal of a key internal organ was not. Even if it was an appendix on the cusp of bursting. The more advanced Abilities in the Surgeon Classes provided alternatives in most instances and skirted the limitations of the Oaths. But it was not something I had thought I would need to have considered at the time I set the Oaths in the first place.
Complicating matters further, Oaths could not be retracted or altered once made.
I had tasked Sebet with drafting new Oaths that would better accommodate certain extenuating circumstances without compromising their original intent. The additional requirement for general simplicity in language and structure was causing issues I had more or less expected from the outset. With several iterations being presented and rejected thus far.
Without Sebet's immutable Contract serving as a guarantor for her motivations, I would have entertained greater doubts regarding her intentions.
In Sebet's defence, the requirement for simple and concise language was not something that came easily to her. With each new draft demonstrating a conflict between Sebet's innate tendencies as a Devil, to obfuscate and maliciously mislead for the most favourable interpretations, and the Contract binding her to the Oaths' intended purpose.
Sebet was making progress, but I wasn't expecting her to have something usable for at least a couple more months.
Gric materialised just beyond the invisible boundary surrounding the temple grounds. Pacing back and forth with an intense gleam in his emerald eyes.
Moments later, Sebet appeared in the same manner.
The pair immediately engaged in an animated discussion, as was their habit. However, instead of exchanging veiled insults and baring their teeth in overt demonstrations of hostility, they both carried the same mounting anticipation.
Silenced by one of the Formations surrounding the temple and its grounds, the specifics of their conversation were lost to me. Yet the fact that they had set aside their usual animosity for one another was telling in and of itself.
“Enough,” I commanded, “Withdraw to the secondary pavilion and consolidate your gains. I have matters of state to tend to.”
The lesser Daemonic Cultivators immediately withdrew their auras and retreated from the temple. Only too happy to be given time to process the donated raw energy without outside interference from their peers.
Out of habit, Zhou Min lingered. She used the excuse of rebinding the sacred bandages over the afflicted portions of my arm as a ready excuse. In her defence, I lacked the manual dexterity to perform the binding with only one hand. So it was not a particularly poor excuse.
Channelling my internal energy through the token at my waist, I lowered the defensive Formations surrounding the temple.
Sensing the change, Sebet and Gric wasted no time in making their way into the temple proper.
"What is it?" I asked, preempting a more formal greeting and cutting straight to the matter at hand.
Sebet spared a sidelong glance at Gric for a fraction of a second as she seized the initiative. "News from the trials," her forked tongue danced excitedly behind her teeth, and her mouth was drawn into an unnaturally wide and thoroughly disturbing smile. "IT has happened! Just as I knew it would!"
A scowl flickered over Gric's face but disappeared almost instantly, followed by a flash of confusion before returning to repressed excitement again. "My Tyrant, a Warlock, has chosen you as their patron."
I stared at Gric for what must have only been a few seconds, but felt it like an eternity. The words rebounding within my mind and failing to find purchase. "What? What are you talking about? A I can't be a Warlock's patron..."
Mentally altering the filter that screened the majority of system notifications from my vision, I was shocked to find several notifications I had never seen before.
[ The worship of the devoted has suffused your soul and opened the path of {Divine Cultivation}. The rituals, prayers and continued worship of the devoted are required to continue on the path. ]
[ You have taken the first steps on the path of {Tyranny}, allowing the accumulation of {Tyranny Dao}. Adherence to {Tyranny} is required to continue upon this path. Divergence will cause disruption to the soul. ]
[ The fervent worship and sacrifices of {Lesser Beings} have bolstered your essence and now allows the accumulation of {Divinity}. ]
[ {Stefan Istanopolis} has sworn devotion to your eternal glory in exchange for a fraction of your power. Through this {Pact}, you can bestow and rescind {Boons} and {Banes} in exchange for reserving a portion of their {MP}. The strength of a {Boon} or {Bane} is limited by your maximum {MP}. ]
Without timestamps to mark when the notifications had first appeared, I had no way of knowing how long they had been ignored. However, from context and the fact that I hadn't seen any changes when last reviewing my Status, I had to assume this was a relatively recent development.
Rereading the notifications, I couldn't help but grimace. Filled with an intense discomfort at the overt statement and summation of my behaviour being classified as literal Tyranny. Worse still, Tyranny of such a degree that it was an expression of its purest form.
Of course, even the most favourable reflection upon my policies left no room to hide from the truth. While serving a greater moral good, the Oaths were literally stripping people of their agency and forcing them to conform to my code of ethical conduct. With tens of millions of people bound by these Oaths, and more being bound with each passing day and hour, it wasn't difficult to see why the system had identified my actions as such.
Besides, it was also a part of me. The very core of who I was created to be.
That was the thought that disturbed me the most.
How much of what I was doing was determined by those who had created me? Was I only acting under the illusion of choice?
The looming war with the self-proclaimed 'Creator' and his hosts of Angels, Daemons and Devils was usually a source of profound stress. However, in this particular moment, it brought a small measure of comfort.
The knowledge that such a confrontation would not be taking place if everything was going according to this Creator's plans. Further supported by the recordings I had witnessed within the facility where I was created.
"You are displeased," Sebet observed, furrowing her brow slightly as she scanned my face for clues. Otherwise forbidden to read my thoughts without explicit permission and forced to rely upon more mundane means.
"It has all been for the greater good," Gric commented, suffering under no such limitations. "Under your guidance, needless suffering is all but eliminated," he continued, absolutely convinced of his words and speaking with the certainty of an accountant who had personally reviewed the numbers.
"I know..." I sighed, taking a moment to clear my head. "It's just that word in particular, it carries a lot of baggage..."
Gric nodded in understanding but didn't appear to agree. "Leadership is responsibility, a burden we take upon ourselves for the good of the many."
Sebet snickered out of the corner of her mouth, earning a glare from Gric.
"You taught me that, my Tyrant," Gric tried to hide a faint smirk as Sebet realised her mistake, but didn't make a significant effort.
"I did," I smiled despite myself. A surge of pride rose in my chest as I reflected upon the influence I had on his development.
It was a sensation normally reserved for when I was observing my children navigating the world around them. Which made me realise that the Daemons, and Gric in particular, were closer to adopted children than subordinates. Albeit with extremely violent tendencies when left to their own devices.
"A testament to your guidance, my Tyrant," Gric stated in an uncharacteristically subdued tone. An unmistakable glimmer of pride shone in his emerald eyes as he drew himself up to his full height.
Sebet narrowed her eyes, critically regarding us both in turn. Attempting to decipher a hidden meaning or underlying subtext. "Indeed. We are all so much more than we otherwise might have been, thanks to your leadership and magnanimous governance," she agreed, indulging in brazen flattery to insert herself back into the conversation and steal a small degree of focus from her rival.
"The Tyrant is most wise and just," Zhou Min agreed respectfully. A reminder that she was still present and observing events with the unwavering focus of a Cultivator.
Instead of dismissing her, I decided to take advantage of her presence to establish a starting point for investigating the first pair of notifications. "Min, are you familiar with Divine Cultivation or the Dao?" I had a vague idea of what the Dao was in philosophical terms, with almost every Cultivator treatise and manual referencing it in one form or another
Unfortunately, these manuals were written in dozens of different languages and hundreds of regional dialects, with a large degree of assumed knowledge involved whenever it was discussed. So I was limited to the relative handful that had been painstakingly translated by Zor into English. A monumental undertaking that had been, at least thus far, otherwise unguided.
Zhou Min bowed her head respectfully, "I have no comprehension of Divine Cultivation. The Tyrant has been most generous, allowing access to the grand repository. However, I have only sought knowledge to better guide my own path..." she replied humbly and somewhat ashamedly. "Ah, but perhaps the honoured grand custodian might be of greater assistance? Or maybe an elder of a powerful clan?" Zhou Min suggested earnestly.
With a thought, I summoned a projection of Zor into the temple.
"My Tyrant!" Zor exclaimed excitedly, evidently glad for the unexpected visit. The spidery legs of her lower body skittered energetically as she took in our surroundings. "How may I be of assistance? I am nearly finished with the text the Tyrantess requested, but require more time to best mimic the illustrative skills of the original artist."
Momentarily confused, I sifted through my thoughts to bring the most recent conversations I had with my wife to the forefront of my mind.
Sebet's smile returned with a vengeance, her cheeks flushing crimson and eyes flashing with lascivious delight. A reaction that told me all I needed to know.
"Your contributions are appreciated, but you are now dismissed." With a thought, I used my authority to relocate Zhou Min outside of the temple, and most importantly, to the other side of the privacy wards.
Taking a deep breath, I stared down at Sebet with a carefully cultivated deadpan stare. "Am I correct in assuming this is some form of sex book? Specifically, one related to certain...exotic positions?"
A flicker of surprise passed behind Sebet's eyes, but disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Literally incapable of telling me a lie, her momentary hesitation was all the proof I needed.
"This will probably come as a shock to you, but I'm more surprised YOU didn't undertake authoring and illustrating such a book yourself," I commented dryly. "Why did you manipulate my wife to do so in your place?" It was less of a question and closer to a Command, just shy of compelling Sebet to answer in complete detail and without filtering her words.
Already impossibly wide, Sebet's smile grew wider still. Her eyes glinted with triumph. "The Tyrantess was the one to approach me, my Tyrant. I merely served as a guide to several introductory texts..."
Lash's impatience took on a new dimension, and I felt a tremor in the foundations of my ego.
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Was I making her unhappy? Prioritising my duties at the expense of our relationship? Was I leaving her unfulfilled?
Gric gave Sebet a scathing scowl, his eyes positively brimming with venomous contempt and disapproval. "My Tyrant...It is not as you likely suspect," He commented somewhat awkwardly. "The texts are intended for education...The Tyrantess believes her lack of knowledge of such things is negatively impacting your prestige..."
"What? How?"The shift in focus was absurd, and I was struggling to understand how it made sense.
"The majority of your court is Human," Sebet chuckled, evidently quite amused. "The local breed is more or less aligned with your own tendencies. However-" She paused for dramatic effect and flourished one arm toward our surroundings. "-the Cultivators, they have entire estates of pleasure boys and girls dedicated to indulging their whims, and they engage closely within their political maneuvering."
"Concubines and courtesans?" I asked, reaching for half-remembered fragments of old history documentaries.
"Just so," Sebet agreed. "The catalyst for the Tyrantess' is related to a specific interaction with one such individual...a Fa Yuen, I believe," she glanced at Gric, who gave a terse nod of confirmation. "That is, of course, her actual name, not the one given by the noble she was accompanying that evening. Our understanding was that she was spying on the nobleman and took advantage of the opportunity to establish contact and a connection with the Tyrantess. Even going so far as to make certain advances..." Sebet raised her eyebrows provocatively.
"She wanted me to cheat on my wife?..." I asked coldly.
"Not as such..." Sebet replied with evident amusement. "I believe the original intention was to have the Tyrantess 'cheat'-" she used airquotes and a heavy tone of sarcasm to underline the word. Which came as no surprise given primal hedonistic tendencies. "-on you, my Tyrant. When that failed, in no small part due to the Tyrantess'...ignorance? Well, more explicit advances were made with intentions toward yourself."
It was easy to understand why Lash would not understand being propositioned by another woman, given how impossibly rare same sex romantic relationships were amongst the monstrous Species. The few exceptions I was aware of, Sebet and Clarice being the most prominent, weren't quite the same as someone from Earth might otherwise expect.
Primarily because Sebet could alter her body at will, and had to have assumed male characteristics at one point or another for Clarice to have become pregnant. The thought of which served as a reminder that she and Nadine were both expecting within the coming weeks. Assuming the eggs produced by Humans and Monsters mature at the same rates.
"Three days," Gric commented neutrally before softening ever so slightly. "Clarice has been sequestered within The Grove alongside Nadine, and they are being given the utmost attention and care."
The change in Gric's tone and demeanour was mirrored by Yor. Both expressed uncharacteristic concern. A reminder that I wasn't the only one they might consider as a parent figure.
Sebet shifted uncomfortably, her mask of overt coquettishness slipping as concern flickered through the cracks. Despite being over a hundred years old, this would be her first child, and I could recognise all of the same doubts and fears I had felt now passing behind her eyes.
Letting the moment pass and allowing the emotions the opportunity to breathe, my thoughts drifted toward my first meeting with Sebet and how she had entered my service.
Thus far, she was the only Devil I had seen, excluding the generic Summons I routinely created for the trials. A reminder that I didn't know her age.
No doubt, similar to the Daemons and Fallen Angels, Sebet likely had an accelerated level of maturity. Reaching the level of an adult within a matter of months, if not weeks or even days.
However, the subject raised a number of other questions. Chief amongst which was how long the artificial world had existed.
Even though it was likely a long shot, I brought the facility tablet to my good hand with a thought and manipulated it like a smartphone while back on Earth. The information contained within was incredibly limited, and I had read, watched, and listened to the contents a number of times before. However, there was something I had not paid much attention to previously, and now took the opportunity to remedy that oversight.
Similar to photos and other files stored on a phone or computer, the contents of the tablet had sequences of coded numbers and letters that denoted time, the date and the file designation type. Using the myriad of files to provide references, I began puzzling through them all to establish a general timeline and then extrapolate the age of the facility.
Confused, I repeated the effort several more times.
"Sebet...How old are those Perpetuals you told me about?" I asked, struggling to suppress the mounting unease I felt within the back of my mind.
Momentarily thrown by the abrupt shift in subject, Sebet stared back at me for several moments in silence. "I am unsure of the exact details..." She hedged warily, eyes darting to scan the shadows in the corners of the room in a show of unguarded paranoia. "The Matriarch, greatmother of my mothers...She is over ten thousand years old..."
If I hadn't already been sitting down, I was certain the shock would have caused me to fall. "Ten thousand? You are sure?" That was several degrees of magnitude greater than what I had been expecting.
Sebet nodded timidly, even going so far as to inch slightly closer to Gric and Yor. An unabashed show of just how fearful the subject made her.
"And this isn't a weird language barrier or cultural difference? Where ten thousand years is actually just ten thousand days?" I pressed, driven by the burning need to scratch the itch in my mind that was only growing worse with each passing moment.
Sebet stiffly shook her head.
"That's...not possible..." I croaked, mentally reeling as I tried to rationalise the disparity between Earth and the artificial world. "They were speaking English, American English...I'm sure of it..." Hand trembling, I opened the last testament of the scientist who had died sending me to Earth.
The words passed through my mind without finding purchase, a paralysing chill clawing at my insides even as the itch abated.
"It doesn't make sense..." I insisted, complaining like a child unwilling to accept the facts staring them right in the face.
A dangerous thought pushed to the forefront of my mind.
"How do I find one of these Perpetuals?" I demanded. My voice carried far more calm and decisiveness than I felt.
Sebet shrank back a step before suddenly finding her nerve. "The Goblin's pet..." She hissed anxiously. "The Daemon with the pale scales..."
"Ril..." Gric shifted uncomfortably. His spirit rankled under the reminder that he was not truly the top of the Daemon pecking order. While his hatchmates all readily turned to him and acknowledged him as their leader, Ril's presence complicated matters for them.
However, if the 'creator' had other Daemons of his own, and it was safe to assume he did, the discomfort was a worthwhile trade if it meant Gric and his siblings could train their minds against their primal instincts. Designed to serve the strongest of their kind in their immediate proximity, it would be devastating for one of them to change sides mid-battle. All the more so if they were injured or killed as a result.
I had spoken with Ril previously, but this particular line of inquiry had not been raised. Mostly because I hadn't thought it would be important, and was driven by more immediate concerns. Now I realise that it might have been a mistake.
"I will speak with Ril later," I decided. Mentally rearranging my schedule to make time I might need to process the answers I was seeking. "Returning to our immediate business-" I turned my full attention toward the pale sapphire-skinned Daemon, Yor. "Within the Cultivator library, have you encountered anything that directly discusses Divine Cultivation?"
Yor closed her eyes and swayed her Elf-like upper body from side to side while pressing her long, delicate fingers against her temples. Her eyelids fluttered but remained closed as she mentally reviewed the hundreds of thousands of texts within her collections. Taking a sharp breath, Yor opened her eyes and nodded in the affirmative. "There are three damaged texts, four incomplete texts, and one complete text that directly references Divine Cultivation. Only one of the damaged texts appears to have direct references to a Technique."
"I want translated copies as soon as you can get them for me," I ordered, Summoning seven copies of the spider-tauric Daemon and dividing my MP between them to make the work go faster.
"Your will be done, my Tyrant!" The small sapphire-skinned Daemons answered in unison before exercising limited authority to return to the library.
"And what of your Divinity?" Sebet asked probingly, apparently put at ease by the shift in subject and emboldened to keep it from returning to troubled territory.
"Yes..." I agreed, "How is this even possible? I'm not an Angel or even a Spirit of any kind..."
"You are something more," Gric interjected matter-of-factly. "Worshipped by millions of souls that shelter within your shadow. This was inevitable." He didn't seem phased in the slightest. Even sounded proud on my behalf.
"I concur," Sebet agreed. "I was not expecting such an occurrence for quite some time yet. Even with the Fallen Angels and Vakyrja acknowledging you as both a superior being and their master, I appear to have underestimated the capacity of the intensity and depths of the new Humans' faith. Which I believe held the greater weight as a determining factor. With so many offering outpourings of daily gratitude, this outcome was, as my colleague so eloquently put it, inevitable." Sebet gave a slight smile as Gric huffed at her needless sophistry.
"But I suppose that raises more questions," I pushed on, trying not to get bogged down by potentially unfounded assumptions. "Most importantly, what can I do with it? Beyond making more powerful magic and armour." I had witnessed Orphiel and Ophelia do as much already, but was convinced there had to be more to it.
Sebet shrugged dramatically, "I must confess, I do not know. And I presume the Fallen Angels are incapable of explaining it all, based upon your previous attempts at conversing on the subject."
I grunted in agreement and made a mental note to set aside time for potential experimentation.
"The Warlock...Stefan, how do these Boons and Banes work exactly?" I was capable of reading a dry description from the system, but figured I would leave that for later and take advantage of the pair's first-hand experience.
"Upon forming the Pact, the Warlock is given a Boon that mirrors aspects of their Patron," Gric explained calmly. "Those under my Patronage are gifted with enhanced speed of thought, limited telepathy and minor increases to their overall durability, dexterity and physical strength."
"Mine can Compel and Charm with their words and presence," Sebet added with a smirk, "Quite useful in battle and intrigue."
"Should they prove themselves, further Boons may be bestowed against a depleted reserve of their MP," Gric continued, ignoring Sebet's interruption. "The greater the Boon, the more MP that is required. Furthermore, a proportionate amount of raw mana consumed from Manastones is taken in payment and delivered to their Patron."
Sebet nodded in agreement and motioned for Gric to continue, acting as if he was only speaking because she allowed it.
Glaring at Sebet with open disdain, Gric took a moment, as if collecting his thoughts. "Banes function similarly but can impose moderate to extreme negative attributes while still reserving a portion of MP and raw mana."
"There are no conditions for imparting Boons and Banes either. The strength of the Boon or Bane ultimately determines the minimum reserve required to facilitate the change, but nothing is stopping a Patron from setting the reserve higher," Sebet interjected, earning another scowl from Gric. "So, an unscrupulous Patron could seize every crumb of their MP and raw mana for their own development. Hypothetically, of course!" She added the last with an exaggerated conspiratorial wink.
"Right..." I commented dryly. Unsurprised that Sebet would be familiar with the means to take complete advantage of such a situation. "I would assume that approach is quite shortsighted in practice? Given the raw mana's benefits have such diminishing returns for Patrons with opportunities for direct access that we enjoy?"
Sebet shrugged non-commitally. "It's not as clear cut as that, I think you will find, my Tyrant. There is a balance to be found where both parties come out ahead, and the Patron maximises their own benefit in a meaningful manner-"
"The Warlocks can serve as external syphons, my Tyrant," Gric interjected, making no efforts to hide his motivations as he gave an antagonising glance toward Sebet. "Simply existing in a mana-saturated environment, the Warlock can multiply their Patron's access to that same ambient mana. Increasing the Patron's rate of Evolution."
"Because there is a limit on ambient absorption, and this somehow bypasses that? I see..." It seemed obvious, now that I had given thought to it.
Gric and the other Daemons had been accepting Manastones as material costs to facilitate Summons from Pact Binders and the host of Summoning Scrolls they had disseminated into the general market. The raw mana was immediately made available to them at the time of the Summons, and the Warlock's Pact seemed to function in the same manner.
Seemingly at the peak of what my Evolution was capable of, raw mana instead solely contributed toward my maximum mana capacity.
This seemed like a net positive, at least at face value. However, the effects of mana addiction were still an area of significant concern. Especially since neither Gric nor Sebet suffered from that same vulnerability, and I appeared to have little control over who could name me as their Patron.
Gric grew increasingly concerned, his repressed anxiety mirroring my own thoughts in real time.
Sebet scowled faintly as she attempted to puzzle out the cause for the abrupt shift in mood.
"The Tyrant has...concerns..." Gric commented sombrely. His tone made it clear it was to be taken seriously, and there was no room for their usual sniping at one another.
The wrinkles on Sebet's brow deepened for several moments before easing abruptly, sudden comprehension reflected in her eyes. "The addiction...Yes, that is potentially quite concerning..." Sebet agreed, all pretences of playful rivalry set aside in the face of the potential disaster. At least, for the time being.
"Is there a way I can prevent other Warlocks from taking me as their Patron?" I asked, exploring potential control measures to cut off a potential disaster in a worst-case scenario.
Gric and Sebet shared an uncertain glance with one another that dragged into an uncomfortable silence.
"Changing Patrons is technically possible..." Sebet replied hesitantly, "But..." She frowned and shared another look with Gric. "We could try limited Warlock trading?" Sebet suggested.
"Intent may play a factor on the Patron's side," Gric agreed. "Testing would confirm as much...However, the Warlocks should ideally be of a low level to minimise the penalties..."
Sebet nodded tersely in agreement, "Agreed."
Several minutes passed in tense silence, and I could sense mana pulsing from the pair in erratic bursts as they undertook their experiment. Although I wasn't initially certain why. However, after directing my inquiry towards the Pact feature, I received my answer.
Beyond the Boons and Banes I could impart to a Warlock, the Pact also facilitated conditional two-way communication. It exacted a cost in MP for both the Warlock and the Patron, but was otherwise capable of transcending any distance between them.
I could tell by the looks on their faces that things did not appear to be going as they had hoped. So, I decided to take a more direct approach. After all, there was a possibility I was worrying over nothing.
Just as I was considering how best to approach the Warlock, I felt a trickle of mana enter my core. Without my Cultivation exercises and training that had enhanced my perception of energies within and without, I might not have noticed it at all.
The sensation came twice more and then stopped abruptly.
Despite my reservations, I used my authority to home in on the Warlock's location. Withdrawing five high-ranking Manastones, I issued a simple Quest and deposited the Manastones in front of the Warlock.
Should the worst come to pass, I was prepared to relocate to the mana-infused lake within The Grove and filter the addictive properties from my body. However, I was becoming increasingly confident that it would not be needed.
The Quest was accepted, and I felt the same flickering sensations in my core. Only this time, they were stronger and easier to examine.
Scrutinising my mana and mind for signs of disruption that might indicate the initial stages of mana addiction, I surrendered awareness of my surroundings and turned my full attention inward.
Like small bowls of water being emptied into an ocean, the freshly deposited mana sent ripples cascading through my core. Diluting and disturbing my mana in its immediate vicinity before being assimilated and becoming otherwise unrecognisable.
This was potentially a good sign. Indicating that the Warlock served as a form of filter, or perhaps that I had 'outgrown' the danger represented by such small volumes of consumption. Or perhaps even a combination of the two.
Issuing another Quest and delivering several dozen more Manastones, I Summoned a projection of Oba Kei. The Daemonic Cultivator was responsible for the education and guidance of my children on the path of Cultivation.
While he was not the strongest Cultivator at my disposal, he possessed a substantial degree of experience and knowledge. Oba Kei could also be trusted to keep his mouth shut and provide impartial advice without Sebet and Gric's intervention.
"My Tyrant! It is an honour!" Oba Kei bent ever so slightly at the waist and bowed his head as a show of respect. Careful to observe my bans on grovelling and demeaning demonstrations of prostration. "How might I and my clan serve?" His wizened emerald eyes settled on my right arm.
Despite an aesthetic appearance of an eighty-year-old from a painfully dated kung-fu movie, the elderly Cultivator had the vitality and energy of a twenty-year-old. A direct consequence of the Daemonic Cultivation path, which allowed stealing the energy from enemy Cultivators and beasts, in addition to a more aggressive absorption of ambient energies.
"That is not why I have called you. I need you to scan my spirit for signs of change. Specifically corrupting influences from an outside source," I explained patiently.
Oba Kei grew visibly uncomfortable. "To scan another's soul so deeply...as a lowly servant, it would be most improper..."
"Yet you will do it," Gric growled.
The pair had not stopped their own experiments but had both turned their attention toward the aged Cultivator. Stern commanding expressions projected a rare unified front.
Oba Kei didn't flinch, but I felt his Chi quaver briefly before he regained control over himself. "It will be as the Tyrant says. It is not my place to question..."
In other circumstances, I would have taken Sebet and Gric aside. As it very much WAS the elder Cultivator's place to question my actions. Stifling outside perspective was far more likely to do me harm than good, especially when it was provided by someone with a profound well of knowledge tempered by more than a century of experience.
After taking a few moments to calm himself, the elderly Cultivator lowered himself to the floor and settled into the lotus position. Extending his Chi into our surroundings, it quickly became obvious that his spiritual perception wouldn't be capable of penetrating my core without both my permission and assistance.
Lowering my spiritual defences, I coaxed Oba Kei's awareness toward my core.
Trembling like a child navigating a room in the dark, energy contracted upon itself several times over. Recoiling and flinching in response to the minor fluctuations caused by the Warlock's contributions to my mana.
Huffing in exasperation, Gric assumed a meditative stance beside the elderly Cultivator and placed his right hand on his shoulder.
Bolstered by Gric's presence and resolve, Oba Kei's energy renewed its progress toward my core. It came just short of making contact and then fanning out with thin tendrils to form a construct similar to a fishing net.
On a primal level, the foreign energy felt like a violation. Like a parasite squirming through my guts. Provoking responses from my subconscious that required my full attention to contain.
After what felt like an hour, but was probably closer to five or ten minutes, Oba Kei retracted his Chi as fast as he could manage.
Profoundly relieved to be free from the invasive sensations, it took me several moments to notice the elderly Cultivator's deteriorated condition. Sweating profusely and gasping for breath, Oba Kei was shaking as if he was about to be violently ill. "I...I have witnessed the divine..." The elderly Cultivator croaked, his voice as fragile as a dry leaf in a hurricane.
Extending my spiritual senses, I was shocked to find his core was in turmoil. The circulatory system that carried his Chi was ripping itself apart at the seams from the intense pressure contained within.
With a thought, I terminated the Summon before any further mental distress could accumulate.
"The Summon absorbed a portion of your power, Tyrant," Gric explained cautiously while visually inspecting his own body. "I felt a lesser portion bleed into me as well...However, I do not sense anything amiss..."
Sweeping my perception through Gric's being, I felt the faintest whiff of my own power within him. However, it was evaporating at an incredible pace and was gone only a few seconds later.
"Why did the Summon have that reaction to begin with?" I wondered aloud. "He was constructed using my energy in the first place."
"Perhaps not all aspects are replicated within the projections?" Sebet suggested thoughtfully. "Summons have not possessed your unique Affinities either."
"The other Daemonic Cultivators did not have this reaction from feeding on my energy," I commented, uncomfortable with the potential danger I had exposed them to.
"They were feeding upon your energy," Sebet corrected, not entirely disagreeing with me. "Maybe that is why they did not have the same reaction?"
"No," Gric interjected, his tone cold, calculating, and above all, brimming with absolute certainty. "I felt it. Your new power, whatever it is, the Summon's body was not equipped to handle it."
"And the other Cultivators?" Sebet pressed with unabashed curiosity. "You are perhaps suggesting their relative youth is what allowed them to do so and remain unscathed?"
"No," Gric repeated with the same absolute certainty. "The energy is restricted to the Tyrant's core, the Dantian, as the Cultivators call it. The Summons drew close, and the energy rode the connection to his core. If another parasitic Cultivator attempted the same, they would meet with the same fate."
"Interesting..." Sebet murmured. "So it would be safe to assume this same liability would exist when extracting energy from our enemies as well...Except..." She gave Gric an appraising glance, "You did not have the same reaction he did."
"Correct," Gric agreed.
"I wonder if their mythology is a part of this?" Sebet mused aloud. "Holy Demon this, and Celestial Demon that. They have hundreds of such titles within their stories and sensationalised histories. Could there be something to that, do you think?"
"It's possible," Gric agreed for a second time and began to show a measure of irritation at that fact.
"Wel..." Sebet sighed and rolled her back, taking the opportunity to flex her wings and whip her tail. "This certainly is interesting."
Gric rose to his feet but made no reply. Popping his joints and rolling his shoulders as he did so. "There is more..." He grunted somewhat self-consciously. "The Dao of Tyranny has been added to my Status."
Sebet cursed, her eyes flashing with open jealousy. With unnatural swiftness, the anger was gone, replaced by predatory opportunism. "This is all purely conjecture, of course," she purred, giving me her full attention. "To be certain, we would need to repeat-"
"No," I interjected bluntly.
Cut off partway through her passionate oration, Sebet's face twitched. The corner of one eye was spasming as if experiencing a seizure.
Summoning Oba kei for a second time, I motioned Sebet to silence with my good hand. "Did you detect any impurities accumulating while observing my core?" I asked bluntly.
Trembling slightly, Oba Kei bowed his head and saluted by pressing his fists together. "My Tyrant, I detected no impurities...However, should they exist, I am not confident I have eyes worthy to see them..."
"He is being self-deprecating," Gric explained bluntly. "Witnessing your core has sparked a reaction not dissimilar to an inferiority complex." He planted a clawed hand on the elderly Cultivator's shoulder in a rare show of empathy. Although it was unclear whether Oba Kei appreciated that fact or not.
Momentarily distracted by Gric's emotional maturity, it didn't escape my notice that Sebet appeared more than a little annoyed.
No doubt entertaining thoughts that I was playing favourites. Which was fair, since that was exactly what I was doing. Because I could trust Gric in ways I would be foolish to even consider trusting her, Contract be damned.
"Your services have been appreciated. Is there a boon I might give you or your clan in compensation?" I asked, projecting an air of benevolence to ease the guilt for the pain I had caused.
"The Tyrant has been more than generous, I couldn't possibly-" Oba Kei responded hurriedly.
"He would like a prime of place for his clan's participants in the integration trials," Gric interrupted bluntly and without judgment.
The elderly Cultivator fell silent but didn't object.
"So be it." It was easy enough to arrange and wouldn't negatively impact the results one way or the other. So I had no problem with it. "However, due to unforeseen consequences-" I glanced down at my bandaged arm with irritation, "Kwan will be attending in my place. This experiment is too important to delay any further, and his presence should ensure no one has cause to feel slighted."
"It will be our honour!" Oba Kei replied excitedly.
The Cultivators had an odd obsession with dragons of all stripes. Technically, Kwan was a breed of sea serpent. However, his immense size and prestige as my Bonded Companion made the difference nonconsequential.
With a great deal to think about and more work still demanding my attention, I dismissed the projection and concentrated on the recovery of my arm. Depending upon how well Kwan handled his first public appearance, I was considering sending projections of him to handle other Cultivator-related matters as well.
At the very least, I figured the opportunities to socialise would do him good. Perhaps even expand his use of diction beyond single-word statements and into complete sentences.
It was a long shot, but I was optimistic. It was just a matter of time and motivation. So it was a good thing.