Crystal Core 4: A Litrpg Cultivation Adventure, page 28
“Just tell the dwarves and elves that I feel responsible for them, and leave it at that. The message to the council may be an issue, though, because my wives will likewise know that I’m back due to our connections. Don’t ask me to explain that, suffice it to say that it’s part of my abilities as the Hero.”
Valdoc nodded. “You’ve earned that much trust and far more from me. I will give you anything I have or can do, short of betraying my clan. Know that I will be loyal to the Hero, and I assure you that you can count on Yandao. Bas-tuon may have seemed harsh at times, but he has worked tirelessly to shore up your position with the council—despite others who have started to claim that perhaps you were never really the Hero in the first place.”
I shook my head. I didn’t need three guesses to realize who was likely behind that. A reckoning was coming for Jinwae, even if he didn’t realize it.
Valdoc added, “At least half of our incursion team will have to travel with you as an escort. Ogden may insist that we all go, but now that I outrank him, I should be in command.”
He rubbed his temples. “It will be frustrating. I prefer training to politics.”
“You and me both,” I replied with a sigh.
Interlude 4 - Status
That evening, Neki watched as Ryan met with the dwarves and elves. The first group was rather boisterous, repeatedly offering to swear oaths of allegiance to the Hero. In the end, he accepted their oaths with the contingency that those oaths would end when he was able to return them to their own realm.
The elves were more reserved. The male elves did most of the speaking, while the women kneeled behind them, showing obvious signs of emotional trauma. Neki had seen a few women who’d been taken by young masters against their will, but whatever these women had experienced must have been far worse.
That or they just weren’t as resilient as humans.
No, Neki pushed that thought out of her mind. Ryan didn’t tolerate anyone putting down another group just because they were different. And his openness paid off. Throughout the evening, more than one of the women came forward and thanked him for rescuing them. Oddly enough, they seemed even more thankful that he had given them a way forward.
What none of them might have understood, was how the Hero’s aura affected them. He was building connections, without even trying. It was something she’d noticed about him when she woke up. Perhaps it was the depth of their shared experience in Avernus, or perhaps it was the depth of their secondary connection. Either way, she admired his ability to encourage others while feeling its effects herself.
It gave her hope.
The hunger she’d always struggled with was still there. If anything, it had matured from a raging beast to a patient but insistent monster. At the same time, it seemed easier to resist. Images still raced through her head, though it wasn’t just a desire for blood or a building lust. It was images of dancing carefree in the streets one moment, and then those same streets burning the next. Chaos filled her mind.
Ryan was her anchor. He kept her sane, fixed her mind in the present. That thought amused her. She was supposed to be an additional anchor to him, not the other way around.
She felt his desire for her, and knew beyond any doubt that giving herself to him would be wondrous. Still, he was the one who helped hold herself together. She only hoped the chaotic thoughts would fade over time, as the influence of Avernus lessened. For now, she simply sat back and enjoyed watching Ryan interact with others.
Later tonight, it would be just the two of them—not that he would touch her like that… however much she ached for his touch. She knew Ryan would insist on waiting until they returned to his wives. But the way that he looked back at her periodically, checking on her, gave her confidence that it would happen... eventually.
Until then, she’d just have to survive on the dreams, erotic dreams that had grown more and more vivid by the day, even as they’d been struggling for their lives in Avernus. She had it bad, there was no denying that.
Demons weren’t big on denying themselves things to begin with. But she would not shame herself before he was ready. She shivered, doing her best to wait patiently for that touch.
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A few thousand miles away in the House Bara compound, Agimae lay curled up in the sun. The heat felt good on his scales and the stone beneath him had already absorbed a fair bit of heat. A part of his mind was busy watching the two human cultivators in front of him—but only a part.
Lumi and Elu had been training together a great deal, partially at Agimae’s suggestion. Each of their bloodlines had celestial components. A celestial xorn was hardly an elite in the heavens, but they were powerful beings with strong elemental roots. Elu personified them in Agimae’s mind. She was stable and ever reliable.
He understood how his bonded companion had come to love his first wife.
Celestials viewed such things differently, but love of all life was a powerful part of their make-up. It was perhaps the single greatest reason he had accepted the charge of bonding with Ryan. The elder couatl had asked it of him, but he could have denied them. Ryan’s connections with the people around him had intrigued Agimae, and they had proven to be a source of great strength.
Lumi, on the other hand, possessed the purest celestial bloodline Agimae had ever seen in the lower realms. And yet, somehow, Ryan had found a way to purify it. Her actual race had changed to that of a half-celestial, with 89% of her bloodline revealed. With that level of purity, she would be accepted in any of the heavenly realms. It didn’t hurt that her specific bloodline was that of an astral deva—messengers of the heavens, as well as their warriors.
Agimae had helped the two of them both refine their mana control and strengthen their bloodline abilities. Together, they were becoming strong and would be good influences on Ryan. Agimae feared that after his recent trials in Avernus, his bonded companion would need all the positive influences he could get.
Despite keeping one eye on the women training, it was Ryan who took up the majority of Agimae’s concentration. The bond between them had been active, even with Ryan in Avernus, since it was a bond between their souls. He was glad he no longer had to feel the pressure of Hell Mana bearing down on Ryan’s soul. It was imperative to Agimae’s mission that he help Ryan awaken his final bloodline as quickly as possible.
The hardship for Agimae, was that he felt bad not revealing everything to his bonded companion. He believed Ryan could handle learning about what his sire had done to him. But he was under strict orders not to share that until Ryan’s celestial bloodline become powerful enough.
That restriction was even more important, now that his fiendish bloodline had grown so powerful.
Still, celestials weren’t as bound up in the letter of the law as modrons. Agimae would wait to see his companion in the flesh before making any decisions. The elders might not like it, but Agimae would put his companion’s needs first.
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One hour later…
Elu trembled with excitement. She had to run through a breathing exercise to calm herself. She was supposed to be the calm one, the first of Ryan’s three wives. Yet as she listened to the other two brainstorming ways to get to their husband, she found herself drawn in.
Kumo was always excitable. She was nothing if not passionate. That had made it difficult to keep her motivated over these terrible two months. Even with the increase in incursion portals, there were never enough monsters for her to slay to bury the fears she held for Ryan and his well-being.
Elu could only smile that the council had finally proved itself useful. The contingent of cultivators they’d sent to take the Hero into custody and return him to Regev for his own safety had immediately been identified as enemies in Kumo’s eyes.
Elu grinned as she remembered the number of times Kumo had asked her permission to kill one of the cultivators. She was even willing to anger their A-ranked leader. Instead, Elu had found it necessary to focus Kumo’s energy on spying on the council. It was because of her incredible stealth that the three of them knew just how deep the divisions within the council were.
This group only represented the interests of one half of the council. It turned out that the council was effectively deadlocked between Bas-tuon’s half, which wanted to support the Hero, and Jinwae’s. They wanted to control the Hero. It was, however, shocking to hear some of the cultivators in this group discussing whether Ryan was truly the Hero or just a distraction.
As for Lian, she’d lost much of her normally reserved composure. She wasn’t anything like the nearly frantic Kumo, but she clearly missed their husband. Elu sympathized.
Kumo’s frustration finally boiled over. “Are you not going to say a word, big sister?”
Elu took a deep breath. “I agree with you. I want to go to him right now, and damn the consequences. You and I may not be able to travel as fast as Lian, but I do not want to send her to Ryan without going myself.”
Kumo turned towards Lian with a triumphant look.
“It is not like I’m trying to hog him for myself,” Lian explained. “I just meant that we cannot all leave here at once. Even if the team from the council helps, there are more portals now than ever. The rate at which they spawn seems only to be increasing. From what Kumo has reported she heard from the council cultivator’s discussions, we are getting even more than other places—a portal almost every day… and yesterday, two.”
“You are absolutely correct, Lian,” Elu said. “We cannot leave. Our strength is needed in this place, which has become our husband’s home base, so to speak.”
Kumo’s jaw dropped. “But… but you just said that we should all go to him.”
“No,” Elu shook her head. “I said that I agreed with you, that I wanted to go to him, too. We have a duty here, one we cannot deny. Our husband expects certain things of us. What do you think those things are?”
Kumo looked down as she mumbled, “To protect the realm.”
“And?”
Lian answered this time. “To build up our strength.”
Elu nodded. “So, no matter how hard it is to stay here instead of going to him, that is what we are going to do. All three of us.” She paused for effect while looking at Lian as she said the last part. “We are going to protect Amaya and the others. We are going to help them build an army for our husband. We are going to be voices advocating for him with the other cultivators. And we are going to wait for him to reveal his plan.”
None of them said anything more for several minutes. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but deep down they knew it was what Ryan would have wanted. Ultimately, that was what decided things in the end.
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Amaya cursed in frustration. This weave of… what was it that Ryan had called it? ‘Nerves’, yes, nerves was the right word. Whatever she called it, this weave of glyph worked metal fibers was beyond frustrating. In two months, they’d worked what she considered miracles.
The framework for a leg had been built for Dryden. They’d even managed to make it, so it responded to his commands. It wasn’t good enough, though.
The cultivator swore it was amazing, but her now heightened senses could tell that it still wasn’t working as it should. There were tiny lags in response which made his gait seem off. That might not have seemed bad for a normal person, but for a cultivator like Master Dryden, it could be fatal. The speeds he was capable of moving at and the foes he would have to fight would take advantage of even the slightest engineering defect.
Amaya sighed.
Everything else had gone so well. They’d managed to keep the full extent of the glyph warded army secret from the visiting cultivators, though they’d certainly witnessed some of the testing. That force now had gear for a hundred horses and eighty horses were nearly finished with their training. She awaited delivery of the final twenty horses. Her standards were just extremely high for what she would accept, the cost be damned. Although, to be fair, the Count had not charged her even half of the horses’ worth.
The aid of not only her house cultivators, but also mana from those sworn to her fiancée had made all the difference. The glyph masters were able to work almost around the clock with the cultivators’ aid empowering their efforts. They had nearly completed enough gear to equip two thousand soldiers, along with the hundred rapid response riders.
The mana cannons had also come along, and even the rapid cooking boxes that she’d never considered before Ryan had suggested them had turned out. It had taken some time to make sure that the heat all stayed inside, but the portable glyph ovens—PoGOs for short—were popular with all who had seen them. She’d had a set installed into the manor house kitchens, and the cooks raved about them.
This, and many of the other products Ryan had suggested to her would be a great boon to realm. If only they had the time to produce them. They just had to survive the horde.
As for missing her fiancée, Amaya consoled herself that as bad as she had it, his three wives must be suffering even more. She had felt a change earlier today, but it wasn’t until Elu confirmed it, that she knew what it meant. Ryan had returned.
Somehow, he had come back from hell—though he was thousands of miles away. They couldn’t say exactly where he was, but pointed in a direction and gave rough estimates of how far away he might be. It was nearly to the eastern desert, if they were correct.
At least she had all of this work to keep herself busy. Amaya had seen how stir crazy Kumo got. The woman she looked forward to calling sister was a sealed kettle, ready to explode. She felt the same desire to see Ryan again, if not as keenly.
The Duchess sighed and pushed away her desires. She wanted to have not just a barely working leg, but a finished product to show Ryan when he arrived. Her pride would allow nothing less.
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Senga grunted in frustration, then yelped in pain. The touch of the crypt ghast was bitterly cold, yet not unexpected. It drained the life out of her and made her soul ache as much as her body. But that was simply the way her new master taught her. They might be allies, but in this at least Senga had to bow to the other… creature—a former human woman who’d become an undead horror.
When the Widow had first tried to teach her how to find her core and then awaken it, she’d thought that undeath had messed with her Master’s mind. Senga’s bloodline heritage had always been a part of her—she had no need to search for it. Even with blood magic, there was always something tangible involved—namely, the blood. Sure, her abilities allowed to act upon the blood inside other beings, a place she couldn’t see, but it felt natural to her.
This discussion of cores, channels, meridians, and such was so bizarre. Still, the Widow’s teaching style was nothing if not effective. For the first few days, Senga had come to believe that Shurriel had turned her over to this being to punish her for her failure to defeat the Hero. Pain was her constant companion—pain worse than even the shamans back in the orc realm had inflicted upon her.
At first, she’d tried to resist, but had finally bowing to the pain. She bent, but didn’t break. She would howl in pain rather than clench down on her tusks before eventually losing the battle and her consciousness.
That was part of the Widow’s teaching, though. Life was pain. Whether it was a pain in yourself, or pain you inflicted upon others, life was always pain—and no one was immune.
Over the first week, she’d eventually managed to awaken her core. The visualization of channels came easier after that, and by the end of the first month, she was able to imbue enough Death Mana into her hand to cause a flower to wither and die with the lightest of touches. It wasn’t much, but it was a proof of concept and all the motivation that Senga needed to throw herself wholeheartedly into the training.
That is, if the pain hadn’t been enough.
Now, it was all coming together. Awakening her core had brought a small boost to her stats. Each of the eight limb meridians she’d awoken had brought small but welcome boosts, as well. Yesterday, she’d reached cloud stage with her mana—something the Widow insisted was only possible because of her prior training—which had brought even greater boosts.
She pushed the thought aside when she began to believe she’d soon be stronger than her father. It was important not to get ahead of herself, or to forget why she was enduring all this pain. The Hero must die, and he must die screaming in pain without hope.
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Prince Pauza sat upon a throne of gold and bones. It was macabre, but created the right atmosphere for a room where he greeted his guests. It set the appropriate tone. It was surprisingly comfortable, and a place he liked to sit when left alone with his thoughts.
That was all too rare.
Being the ruler of a realm produced never ending work. He delegated as much as was feasible to his dukes and various pit fiends, but it seemed that every couple of decades one of them grew too big for their position and challenged him. It was the nature of hell, he supposed, and Pauza wouldn’t have changed it if he could.
No. Rather, he wanted to spread that chaos. It was a deep-seated need he felt, a need woven into his very being. All demons felt it to some extent. Still, for all that he followed the peak of chaos and evil, he was forced to maintain some type of order within his realm. The torture fields required staff, the birth pits required stimulation, and the continual cycle of life, suffering, and death required a steady hand to maintain it. Pauza had a good thing going here, and he didn’t need any of the other princes eyeing the prize that was Avernus.
Things with the human had gone as expected. Well, perhaps it was a mistake to call him human. He had the makings of a great general of hell. Of course, he also had that accursed modron bloodline and, if Pauza was correct, a hidden celestial bloodline. That simply could not be allowed to grow greater than his fiendish nature.
This being, Ryan, was a linchpin who could upset the balance of power across all the Divided Realms. So far, the system hadn’t intervened, which Pauza took as a tacit blessing of his schemes.
