Individual Tally:

Nicolas Winterhome - 192

Settlement Tally:

Winterhome - 417

Nearly two hundred. Not bad for a day’s work.

Nic flicked open his cultivation map.

Essence 13,314 / 27,046

+ 25.696 per Minute

(3.212 Base)

100% Local Modifier

+ 100% Dominion

+ Devoured an E-Class enemy (200%)

+ Consumed a F-Class treasure (100%)

+ Rested in toxic environment (300%)

10,000 Essence was only half a day’s cultivation, but Nic would never turn it down,. He poured the energy into his Mire Caller’s Base Enhancement. It was his least developed skill now, mostly because he relied on it for utility rather than raw power.

Its main weakness was that, while it could control muddy environments expertly, it was clumsy at actually creating those environments. If Nic found a way to bypass that weakness, the Shard easily contained an entire fighting style; it could bind, drag down, and crush foes under enveloping waves of earth.

But that was a question for later, when he had more Shards.

For now it was time to retreat.

Winterhome had arrived.

The massive floating shadow of the city descended over the chasm and the ruined field it had been carved out of. Huge winds bent the grass low in shimmering waves, and the trees creaked as their limbs bent; the turtle reached down to rip up a huge mouthful of forest, crushing ancient oaks to a splintered pulp in its mighty beak.

The hunters cheered, their bodies drenched in sweat and blood. Nic felt a sigh of relief pass through him.

The dhampir still hadn’t made a second appearance. That might seem harmless, even good, but it worried Nic; there were fundamentally two ways to win this hunt. One was to monopolize the monster gates and kill as many as you could…

But the other was to kill off your competitors.

The dhampir were here. Nic had no doubt. They were simply waiting for his guard to slip, for a chance to move in and slaughter the hunters. He was lucky they hadn’t moved last night…

For now he’d only feel safe with his troops within the city’s defenses.

---

They returned as heroes. The warriors Nic hadn’t chosen for this expedition swarmed forward, eager to hear the stories of battle; Nic saw Nylea among the crowd and waved.

The mantis-princess and her attendant guards had brought out huge wooden tubs full of steaming herbal-infused waters. The injured among the hunters were stripped to their underclothes and unceremoniously shoved into the medicinal baths. Several of them popped up again, howling in pain and actually trying to thrash their way out, before Nylea’s guard pushed them back down.

Nic winced. Judging by the stringent, acidic smell- whatever they were being given was strong, but not pleasant. There were medicines that could hurt worse than the wound itself. The smell brought him back to the orphanage, and the bitter, prickling pain of having a wound slathered in irongrass salves, sealing the cut over with a vicious wriggle of scar tissues.

But he was pleased to see Kiana working alongside Nylea. The former chef gave him a dark glance, and a sarcastic little salute as she helped hold her patients down.

The worst wounded was Kang-Dae. The man had simply plunged into every fight, using his resilient and rubbery body to absorb wounds that would have killed anyone else. But he had no protection against the wretches’ burning bodies. Massive portions of his skin were burned down to pink, wrinkled scar tissue, covered in scabs of blood and pus; willingly throwing himself so deep into the fire was a recklessness that even Nic had to respect.

Reaching into his bag, he took out a crimson Shard and handed it to Kiana.

“Give this to him when he wakes up.”

Turning away from the crowd, Nic let his eyes drift shut as he walked through the city.

Something had changed in Winterhome…

There was an energy here…

It was the power Nic had felt when he’d absorbed the angel’s key, and it was everywhere. Thinner and less concentrated, yes, but building up. Even over the few days he’d been away it had filled the air and grown more pronounced. It was a strange power; one that almost seemed to whisper in a shivering, excited voice, saying things just on the edge of comprehension…

As he reached out with his mind, those voices swirled around him. His head was suddenly full of half-formed ideas; ways to fight, things he could craft, a thousand flickering fragments of inspiration, none of them quite complete. It felt like trying to remember a dream that had already slipped away.

He opened his eyes and gazed up at the sealed gate above the temple.

“Nothing’s tried to come through?” Nic asked.

“Nothing.” Sofia answered.

“And, I’m guessing you can’t tell me what this energy is…”

“No, Nicolas, that knowledge belongs to the restricted side of the Archives. However…” She sounded very proud of herself. “I have compiled a list of its effects, which I observed personally in my capacity as Town Steward. Those I can talk about freely.”

Nic grinned. Sofia…

Even if she served the System, she always found a way to bend things to his benefit. “Alright then. What have I missed?”

“Jay and his father - the one who licks rocks-” She said, with evident disapproval. “Had a sudden idea for a crucible that divides ores based on their Essence purity. Not that they phrased it that way; they were trying to extract ‘the special stuff.” Nic could hear her verbal eyeroll. “They enlisted the Solarus to help them.”

“Whatever inspiration struck seems almost contagious. The Solarus is now working on giving a new body to one of its Unshaped.”

“About a day later, the rune-artisan Talnu’Mo suddenly threw out everything he was working on and started over, in what I would have to describe as a fit of angry laughter and manic muttering.”

“Meanwhile, the Lady Nylea’s efforts to train a new crop of alchemists are going well. They’re making the usual mistakes, but they’re learning from them, and quicker than I expected.”

Like something was in the water, in the air.

“It changes how people learn? Or, it gives them ideas…”

“I’ve come to the same conclusion. It appears to be a mental force similar to Esper, but where Esper is steady, pure, and calm, this energy has an almost violent aspect; it manifests in sudden jolts of inspiration and fanatical concentration. Judging by what we now know, I could hazard a guess that whatever is beyond that gate is some kind of spiritual realm aligned to human mentality, a place where thoughts can shape matter and vise versa.”

Nic grimaced. Yeah, that sounded…

The benefit, faster learning, was far too good to just seal the gate and abandon; Nic himself had experienced how a concentrated dose of that energy could allow someone to break through their own limits. But at the same time, there were far too many potential dangers to just leave the gate lying around, uninvestigated. As soon as possible, Nic needed to go through the doorway himself…

And see what was lurking on the other side, able to creep into the thoughts of Winterhome and shape how his people dreamed.

“Nic!”

He looked up to see Tarquin heading towards him, a lackadaisy smile on the goat-boy’s face. He wore the robe Nic had taken from Baby Boots, now tailored to fit him as a long tunic of green-gold silks, with the sleeves rolled back to show his- honestly pretty flimsy- muscle.

“Look, no scars.” He spread his arms wide and did a spin in place, grinning with unconcealed enthusiasm. He was lying. There were scars- small flecks of blackened skin along his right side. They climbed up his face like dark freckles. “I’m all better and ready to come with you all on the hunt.”

“Hunt’s over.” Nic declared firmly.

“Really? Cause I heard three days, and it’s only been two.”

Nic shook his head. “We lost. The other Settlement’s been killing more than us for the past two days, and we don’t have a fair chance to catch up now.”

“Then…” Tarquin raised an eyebrow, like this was obvious. “We cheat? Obviously.”

“Right. Of course we cheat.” Nic said. “But I have to do it alone. This one’s a one man job, Tark.”

“Then…” The satyr scratched his curly mop of hair, his enthusiasm snuffed out. “What do I do? Because I’ve just spent two whole days with spiders trying to tie me down every time I got out of bed. I’m not sitting around on this one, Nic…”

Waving his concerns aside, Nic said. “Then don’t. Go out and adventure, Tarquin. You don’t need my orders. You’ve got a whole world to explore.”

“I mean, I’m trying to be helpful. But if you really wanna write me a blank license to cause trouble…” A sneaky grin appeared, crawling up the edge of Tarquin’s face. “I mean, I dunno Nic. Maybe you better take me along. No telling what I could get up to, without you keeping an eye on me.”

“Ugh, you brat.” Nic shook his head in mock despair. “Try scouting more of the flying islands out. Figure out where the good stuff is; maybe take a few Nodes if you can. Right now nobody can keep up with you, so get a good look at our surroundings.”

“Alright, alright.” Tarquin lifted his hands, surrendering. “I’ll scout around. See if I can’t scope out something good for us to kill together.”

His feet lifted off the ground, swirling wind appearing underneath his sandals.

“See you around, Nic.”

And with a sudden leap that sent him sailing into open sky, Tarquin was gone.

“Are you sure that was wise, Nicolas?” Sofia asked.

“Right now? The most dangerous place to be is here. Anyway, he’s pretty much my brother. Anything that tries to kill him is going to have a real bitch of a time.” Sure, there was an instinct in Nic’s check that wanted to protect Tarquin. To make sure he never encountered danger or risked death. But the truth was, that instinct would strangle the boy’s potential.

Nic would resent anyone who tried to ‘protect’ him by cutting him off from the chance to fight his own battles.

It wasn’t his path, and it wasn’t Tarquin’s either.