"Come in." Olivia looked at the glowing inscription on the door in the tavern. She and the other members of her team were present in room three to discuss strategies for the combat portion tomorrow.
"Understood. I am here on behalf of Sect Master Rodomir and Elder Shufang to relay to you the changes of tomorrow's competition." A man with a cloth over his face opened the door and kneeled.
"Changes?" Olivia cocked an eyebrow.
"Yes. Due to the recent results of today's enlightenments of dao, many have announced a breakthrough and claim to not have solidified their level. For the safety of all parties, the disciple versus disciple will be changed to a subjugation quest."
"Safety, huh?" Ibrahim scoffed at the excuse provided by the scribe.
"Indeed, fortuitous in this circumstance. The idea of having to spar with those hidden monsters from the Swift Gale Sect was not very palpable." Ceren elegantly tasted her tea with a bitter expression.
"Why does the cultivation of spectators have to do with us?" Hermila asked while tapping her chin.
"… An excuse, I'm sure. The image of our sect has taken quite the blow this day. This beguiling show the sect puts on is just that… a show. Did that hurt, Miss Ceren?" Marcel gave his jaded view of the sect while brushing Ceren's hair.
"Impudent cur! How dare you speak agai-" The scribe drew his blade to slice the tongue off the foreigner that dared to talk ill against his sect elders, only to find himself unable to move. His vision started to blur, and the air around his nostrils was burning, unable to take in any air.
"We are in agreement, Marcel. Continue with the brushing. The brush that father gifted me is from a seamere's mane; we must use it if my hair is to maintain its voluminous luster." Ceren sparkled as she bragged about her family's wealth, with Marcel blushing in contentment.
"Oh, looks like the scribe is about to die, a weakling. Can't even last this long without air." Hermila stood over the choking scribe with an ecstatic look in her eyes. The face of the scribe could not be seen through the cloth, but the sounds and subtle thrashes of his limbs showed the pain he was in as he tried to reach out for help.
Olivia watched the scene with a detached expression, her mind focused on the mission ahead. The scribe's suffering was a minor inconvenience, a necessary display of power to ensure compliance.
"… Marcel, the elder won't find another dead body humorous. We won't have the details for tomorrow if he dies, and we will look like fools… your mistress included." Olivia looked sideways to speak to Marcel, the thought of the havoc those two had brought to her sect leaving a bad taste in her mouth.
"Marcel, be a dear."
"Yes, my lady." Marcel looked at the foaming scribe and drew a dark purple rune in the air, tossing it around the body.
A minute of silence passed with only the clinking of ceramics from drinking tea filling the room. The scribe's body convulsed violently as he struggled to breathe, his face turning a sickly shade of purple. Desperation etched across his features, he lunged for a nearby vase, retching violently into it. The sound of his heaving echoed through the room, accompanied by the acrid stench of stomach acid that quickly permeated the air.
The scribe's eyes bulged as he continued to vomit, his body trembling with each spasm. Olivia watched with detached interest, her expression unchanging. The scribe's hacking grew more frantic, and he clutched the vase as if it were a lifeline. Finally, his stomach settled, and he gasped for air, his breaths ragged and shallow.
Olivia directed him to throw the contents of the vase outside the window with her eyes. As he stumbled to comply, the scribe's hands shook, causing some of the vile liquid to spill onto the floor. He reached the window and dumped the vase, his eyes widening in horror as he saw the bodies of black-colored mist-sized bugs spill out. A sense of dread washed over him, the fear of not knowing what else might be inside of him gnawing at his sanity.
"Thank you for sparing me, Olvi- No, Lady Ceren! I was too presumptuous!" The scribe kowtowed in front of the woman, nearly kissing her sandals. The sight of the vomit-covered mouth disgusted Ceren as she flicked him away across the room with her sunset-colored qi.
"If you are done, tell us what is the exact subjugation target and what exactly are the elders planning on doing?" Olivia turned away from the spectacle as she asked for the details.
"Y-Yes. The target is the Blood Spire Drake. The team that returns with the most cores will win the round. The elders have instructed me to provide you with information and tools that are most effective against them." The scribe pulled a scroll from his robe pocket.
"I, Ibrahim, have no need for such petty tricks. My trained fists are enough to kill some flying lizards." He slammed his fists against each other, creating the sound of steel.
"Nor I."
"As My Lady says."
"I'll take the free weapon, though. Keep the rest." Hermila stretched her hands out in front of the scribe, her greed never allowing the chance for a free item to slip away.
"As you've heard, Scribe. Go tell the elders we are adequately prepared to slay the drakes without assistance. We are done here." Olivia stood up from her chair and walked over to the door, the others following suit.
"It will be tomorrow morning, I presume?" she asked.
"Yes, at the sect gate." The scribe answered while passing a halberd to Hermila.
The group immediately separated once they crossed the door's threshold. Olivia chose to leave through the back exit to avoid any gazes from the lobby. As she walked down the hallway, she paused briefly in front of the fourth room, where the Swift Gale Sect was staying. She hesitated, contemplating whether to open the door and offer a proper apology to the other members. Her hand reached out to the door, then retracted, this internal struggle continuing for several minutes until she sensed someone behind her.
"Inner Disciple Olivia, do you need to speak with them first?" A second scribe asked in a polite manner.
"No… Carry on." She walked away briskly as the scribe's voice faded into the background.
"Greetings, revered guests, I am a scribe sent…"
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
Hours after Elder Shufang issued the order to split up, Olivia and her group continued down the path towards the mountain torrent. Olivia, Ibrahim, and Hermila trudged through the dense forest, their movements slow and deliberate. The weight of uncertainty hung over them. Ceren and Marcel soared above, the annoyance of navigating the muck replaced by a tense silence. Every crack of a twig, every rustle of leaves heightened their awareness.
"Over thirty drakes were first reported, and now nothing. This does not make sense. I would say it was a false report at first but the sight of drake meat in the village would indicate otherwise." Olivia was cutting away tree branches in her way with water blades.
"Could they have migrated? Or chased after the cultivator who killed one of their own?"Hermila ambled along the path Olivia was clearing, her new halberd resting across her shoulders.
"Possible, but my instinct is telling me something else happened. What do you think of Ibrahim?"
"…Listen." Ibrahim gestured for the two to stop moving.
"…"
"…"
"There's only trees rustling." Hermila said absently.
"We are in a forest; that is not possible. No movement or sounds of any creature for miles." Ibrahim looked back at the trail they came from. The sight of absolute stillness caused his heart to beat rapidly, with a cold sweat cresting on his forehead.
"What does that mean? You were from a hunting village before becoming a cultivator, correct?" Olivia approached closer to him to see where he was staring.
"Both of you, think of a time where you were frightened…frightened because the force coming after you was beyond anything you could face. What did you do?" Ibrahim lowered his body and placed his ear on the earth.
"…"
"…"
"I froze."
"…I hid, and held my breath."
"…So what makes a forest do the same?"
Ceren and Marcel were flying at a leisurely pace, unobservant of the team below them. They continued forward while scanning the skies. Marcel prepared an umbrella for Ceren to block the sun as she continued to complain about how cumbersome this hunt had become.
"Why does the old man insist that we search? Shouldn't we have the recon force do this for us to save our strength, I mean really?" Ceren puffed her cheeks as she looked left and right.
"I wholeheartedly agree with Miss's assessment. To have an heiress as yourself perform such menial tasks is not what your father intended." Marcel blindly agreed, keeping the umbrella perfectly positioned over her head.
"Seriously… Strange though. Hey, Marcel?"
"Yes?"
"Every time we've flown by mount or by qi, has there ever been an instance where there were no beasts or even bugs in the air?" She stopped mid-air and used a brooch, a relic from her father, to scan for life signs within five hundred meters.
"Only indoors is such a thing possible." Marcel collapsed the umbrella and pulled out his earth-grade kusarigama. He positioned himself behind Ceren in a battle-ready stance, scanning the skies and using his insects to recon the area.
"My Lady, perhaps we should reconnect back with the group."
"I'll use the jade slip to communicate with them. Who knows how far back they could be." She injected her qi into the slip, the power she poured into it showing how far away they were from the team. She bit her lower lip, anxiously trying to reach out to the team. The seconds that passed felt like minutes, creating worst-case scenarios in her mind.
"Ah! It connected. This is Ceren. Where are you?"
"…R…bea…Ibrahim got…Can you…"
"Answer, where are you? Are you in danger?" She clutched the slip harder in her palm.
"Can you hear…e? Get…Shufang…Ib...…in.j.red. M…tle…rms, warn the …ct!"
"We need to find them quickly! Marcel, have your bugs found them or beasts yet?"
"… No, Miss. Did they say Elder Shufang was injured?"
"I do not know, the signal was too faded. The distance appears to be five kilometers from here." She quickly shot back towards Olivia's approximate position, with Marcel following closely behind, instructing his bugs to scout ahead. They flew at breakneck speeds through the treetops, Ceren continuously trying to reach out to the team to no avail.
"There! My insects found them." Marcel pointed at a clearing next to the cliff face with a small pond nearby. The two landed next to the location expecting to find Olivia and the rest of their team, only to come across a scene of viscera and blood splattered across the trees and pond.
"AAAAaaahhhh~!" Ceren screamed at the gruesome sight.
"What happened?!" The two turned pale at the sight, the smell of iron filling their nostrils. Ceren fell to the ground in shock as Marcel sifted through the blood and guts, searching for any indication of what had transpired.
"They… died. They all died! Who could have done this?! W-We need to call for help." She was shaking in fear, fumbling with the flare.
"MY LADY!" Marcel slid next to her as she tried to pull the flare, smacking the back of her hand, leaving a red mark.
"They are not dead yet! I checked the area… there are no bodies here. The blood is coming from some beast. If we call the other teams here without understanding what is happening, it would just cause chaos and put them in danger as well." He held her hands and brought his head close to hers, explaining the situation calmly. He looked into her eyes to reassure her.
"I only found the halberd Hermila was using, shattered, and what appears to be Ibrahim's arm… They are injured but alive somewhere. We need to find them first to give aid, then we can release the flare. If we do it now and find signs of them elsewhere, the groups that come to assist will be in the wrong place and might even fall into a trap… Understand?" He spoke in a cold tone to show the seriousness of the situation to the girl who was sheltered all her life.
"…Mmk… I understand… Release your hands, please." Ceren took a deep breath and returned to her usual demeanor with a slight blush on her cheeks.
"Of course… pardon me."
"Send your scouts out. I shall use my artifact to check for any signs of life in the area." The two of them continued their search with no success until a large plume of smoke and trees shot into the air.
"Hurry!" They activated their defense relics to maximum output, charging through rocks and trees to reach the explosion as quickly as possible. In seconds, they arrived at the location of the explosion. As the dust settled, Olivia and the rest of their team came into view.
Olivia, Hermila, and Ibrahim were on a large stone face. Olivia looked drained as she used her fan to slice the dust away. Hermila held her shoulder in pain, using a burning branch to cauterize the wound, while Ibrahim lay on the ground comatose, with half of his body appearing to have been torn off. His skin was warped in a clockwise fashion, as if something had spun through his body, ripping his veins out.
"DON'T MOVE!" Hermila shouted when she saw the two silhouettes.
"What happened?!" Ceren clutched her brooch, ready to scan for life.
"NO! DON'T USE ANY QI!" Olivia screeched as she saw a glimmer of Ceren's sunset-colored qi.
"Explain, clearly!" Marcel yelled, the veins in his neck bulging.
"Feral Mantle Worms are here. They're somewhere underground right now, sensing vibrations through the earth and especially attuned to any qi. You two need to find a rock face; the trees will vibrate too much." Olivia trembled, flecks of tears in her eyes at the helplessness they found themselves in.
"Got it." The two slowly stepped to a boulder adjacent to them.
"There's a pack of them here, with a large one somewhere… probably digesting what remains of Elder Shufang. Their hides are strong enough to deflect earth-grade weapons like water against rocks. Running was the only option left." Hermila whispered as she continued to cauterize her wound.
"They can kill a Golden Pill cultivator. How?" Marcel was taken aback by the news.
"I didn't know about them sensing qi. Ibrahim tried to warn me when I responded to your call. He pushed me out of the way, which cost him an arm… and his cultivation." Olivia answered dejectedly.
"From what Elder Shufang told us before he was ambushed by the larger one, these bastards are predators of cultivators. Their teeth are designed to pull out the meridian lines of their prey, making them easier targets." Hermila tossed the branch away as she stood up.
"Their mouths contain parasites that infect their prey; that's how they proliferate. You have to burn the wound with mundane fire; any qi only accelerates their growth." She chuckled in spite of herself at the absurdity of the situation.
"How could such a ridiculous creature be allowed to exist? So what do we do now?" Ceren asked, her voice desperate.
"…We can only call for help, but…" Olivia spoke in a low, uncertain tone.
"We have to use our qi to release the flare high enough for anyone to see. Which means we have to place ourselves in danger to get out of it." Hermila interrupted to say the quiet part out loud.
"We have to. I will protect My Lady at all costs. Staying here will just extend our misery. I assume correctly that these worms are not mindless beasts but are hunters, correct?" Marcel asked in a detached voice.
"That's why they didn't attack you when you first arrived… you're bait." Hermila smirked.
"How long do you think it will take the others to get here or even help at all? We barely survived for twenty minutes."
"I don't know, but bringing them here will not change anything on their own. Before he was eaten, Elder Shufang threw me his sect flare. If we launch this flare along with ours, it will prompt the others to call for reinforcements." Olivia held in her hands a golden bamboo shoot that the elder had thrown at her in his final moments.
The group remained silent for an uncomfortable hour, observing the slight movement of earth serpenting in front of them. Each rustling of the trees, twitch in the earth, and the rare ungodly screech from the worms sent a chill down their spines. After a while, a silent agreement was reached, and they pulled out their flares.
"Once we do this… we will have to fight them off until someone can reach us. Running will only be futile; they are faster than us on the ground… and flying… well, that's how they got Elder Shufang." In a cold tone, Olivia gave her team a general rundown of what to expect.
"On three."
"One," Hermila started.
"Two," Marcel continued.
"Three!" Ceren flinched.
"Fight!" Olivia gave a war cry as she launched the golden flare.