Mayura’s voice, sharp as a whetted blade, cut through the buzzing hall. Her question hung in the air, a challenge and an accusation wrapped in silk. The Kiri she knew was a trembling weakling, a punchline. This new Kiri, however fleetingly, had crackled with power. The air around us tightened, every gaze now fixed, not on the ruined betrothal, but on the impossible transformation.
“The Kiri you know,” I replied, allowing a faint, world-weary sigh to escape Kiri’s lips, “was a puppet of his own ignorance. A malady I have, regrettably, inherited. As for who I am… does it matter? The relevant truth is that I am no longer interested in performing for a crowd of vultures.” I met her intense gaze, holding it for a beat, then flicked my eyes towards the stunned assembly. “This farce is concluded. I have more pressing concerns.”
I stepped past her, the subtle tremor in my limbs a stark reminder of the curse’s insidious grip. The temporary vigor from the wine had already begun to recede, leaving behind the familiar dull ache in my bones, the faint gleam of necrotic corruption beneath my skin. Mayura did not try to stop me again, though her scrutiny followed my retreat as I walked out, leaving the murmuring hall behind. Her confusion was a seed, I noted. Perhaps it would blossom into something useful, or perhaps simply wither. For now, it was irrelevant.
My path led across sprawling grounds, a maze of polished flagstones and pulsing Aura conduits that thrummed with the energy of a thousand cultivating peers. The Obsidian Spire, bastion of Ketu Nakara’s future, served as a gilded cage for its most pathetic descendant. My destination: the forgotten Alchemy Pavilion, a structure shunned and decaying at the edge of the campus, far from the immaculate main halls.
Dust motes drifted through thin shafts of sunlight piercing the grimy windows. The air hung thick with the scent of long-stagnant tinctures and forgotten dreams. It was here, in this derelict place, that Kiri had often sought refuge from mockery, though he’d never dared to truly practice. The door, rusted on its hinges, gave way with a groan, revealing rows of shelves lined with brittle scrolls and heavy tomes.
I swept a hand over a thick, leather-bound book, its title, ‘The Grand Compendium of Aura Infusion,’ barely legible. My former self, the Alchemy Emperor Tanavun, would have scoffed. These were not texts of true mastery. These were hollow echoes, elaborate deceptions designed to funnel aspiring alchemists down dead ends, to prevent the rediscovery of genuine, soul-shattering power. A cabal, yes. Not just to erase my bloodline, but to neuter the very art that could oppose them.
My fingers, tracing the dry pages, brushed against a loose floorboard. A faint, distressed squeak echoed from beneath. Intrigued, I knelt, prying up the plank. Below, in a cramped, dark cavity, something stirred. Not a rat, but a small, hunched creature, its fur the color of twilight, its wings like shredded velvet. It had large, luminous eyes, currently wide with fear and a primal, desperate hunger. It was a juvenile Umbral Beast, a Gloomfang Pup, species thought extinct for centuries. And it was trapped, its delicate leg caught in a crude metal snare.
It bared tiny, needle-sharp teeth, letting out a weak, furious screech. Caustic venoms, I instantly recognized, were coursing through its veins from the rusty trap, slowly poisoning it. Its species, however, possessed a unique digestive system capable of consuming toxic residues and impurities. A true treasure, if properly nurtured. And a perfect partner for someone afflicted with a bloodline curse. A plan, nascent and daring, sparked in my mind.
“Easy, little creature,” I murmured, my voice soft, devoid of the flippant edge I usually adopted. The creature pulsed with fear, ready to snap. I didn't reach for it. Instead, I pricked the tip of my finger with a shard of broken glass from the floor, drawing a single drop of my own tainted blood. The curse-laced drop hung dark and vibrant, anathema to life, yet paradoxically, a potent, concentrated source of soul-born energy.
I extended my hand, offering the dark red pearl. The Gloomfang Pup eyed it, then me, its desperate hunger warring with ingrained caution. The scent of the curse, so potent, was terrifying, but the sheer energy radiating from it was an irresistible lure. With a sudden lunge, it snatched the blood, slurping it down with astonishing speed. Its small body convulsed, toxins roaring, then slowly, a strange calm settled over it. The leg, still caught, no longer twitched with pain. It looked up at me, its luminous eyes no longer filled with fear, but a nascent, curious loyalty.
“Gloomfang,” I whispered, cementing the bond, the name, the purpose. “You’ll be a good boy, won’t you?” It chirped, a soft, almost purring sound, then settled, watching me with unwavering focus.
Before I could free it, a harsh, grating voice boomed from the entrance. “Kiri! What in the blazes do you think you’re doing in here? This workshop is off-limits! Have you forgotten the rules, you worthless wretch?”
Elder Raktan, head of the institution's Alchemy Hall, stood framed in the doorway, his corpulent frame filling the space. His face, usually a mask of weary disdain, was now contorted in a sneer. A man of middling talent but immense self-importance, known for his rigid adherence to outdated doctrines. And, I noted, his cultivation had stagnated. A faint, greyish pallor around his lips, the almost imperceptible tremor in his left hand, the subtle scent of a particular compound clinging to his Aura. All clear signs.
“Elder,” I said, rising slowly, allowing my gaze to sweep over him. “I was merely… reacquainting myself with the, shall we say, *historical* texts. Fascinating. Truly.”
“Historical? You’re trespassing, Kiri! This is a restricted area, even for sanctioned apprentices. For a dropout like you, it’s an expulsion offense!” He took a step forward, his jowls quivering with indignation. “And what is that… abomination you’re hiding?” He gestured towards the cavity, catching a glimpse of Gloomfang’s eyes.
“Abomination?” I feigned surprise. “Hardly. A companion, perhaps. But let’s not get sidetracked. You accuse me of breaking rules. I accuse you of suffering from a debilitating condition that your ‘sanctioned’ knowledge cannot fathom.”
His sneer faltered, replaced by a flicker of annoyance, then suspicion. “What nonsense are you babbling now, boy? Are you trying to deflect from your impending punishment with cheap theatrics?”
“The ‘Scarlet Veil’ poison,” I stated, my voice calm, clinical. “A subtle rot that accumulates in the Aura pathways of the Liver Meridian, gradually suppressing energetic circulation and dulling the senses. It's often mistaken for natural cultivation stagnation. It’s incurable by conventional means, isn’t it? I see its faint stain clinging to your cultivation core, Elder. It will eventually lead to complete Aura collapse.”
The man paled, jaw slacking. The tremor in his hand became more pronounced. The Scarlet Veil, a rare and insidious poison, *was* his secret affliction, one he’d spent fortunes trying to suppress. “How… how could you possibly know that?” he rasped, his booming voice reduced to a whisper.
“Details,” I said, flicking two fingers dismissively. “The point is, I can cure it. Not just suppress it, but purge it completely from your system. In exchange, I demand unfettered access to this hall, its entire contents, and all necessary reagents for my studies, without question or interference.”
Raktan stared, his mind clearly reeling. The lure of a cure was powerful, but the audacity of my demand, coming from Ketu Nakara's greatest failure, was an affront to his dignity. He scoffed, regaining a sliver of composure, sweat beading on his brow. “Cure it? You? This is madness. Fine! You want to play alchemist, Kiri? Let’s see your genius!” He whirled, pointing a finger at a frail, slumped figure in the corner, an initiate brought here for some other failed treatment. The youth's skin was a sickly grey, his breath shallow, his body wracked by intermittent tremors. He was clearly in the advanced stages of the Scarlet Veil poison, barely clinging to life. “Cure him in one hour, or face expulsion and imprisonment!”