Elder Cultivator

Chapter 706

For the last few months, Chikere had been waiting every day for the arrival of the sword saint. But that was not the end of it. Before than, she had spent decades with Chidi as her apprentice, anticipating the day. And then there had been the nebulous time before that, ever since she had heard of the existence of the sword saint. An individual with proclaimed sword skill of immense measure. Such an individual would be worth battling, and undoubtedly carry a weapon unmatched in the Scarlet Midfields.

His arrival had been anything but subtle. It was a challenge- or perhaps a response to her own challenge. To Chikere, it did not matter the exact details. She knew where he was, and she could finally reach him. There was some intention to do this for her allies, but the majority of this was for her. This was what she wanted.

Feeling his power, she knew that as an Augmentation cultivator he could absolutely kill her. But she had not the patience to wait to grow to a higher cultivation herself. This had to be now. Something inside her told her that if she did not press for this at her earliest opportunity, she would miss something forever. Chikere was never the type to question thoughts like that.

So she cut open space. She could travel interstellar distances by doing the same, though not so instantaneously. Crossing a planet was more difficult than moving through empty space, but still within her capabilities. There was some risk, but she gladly accepted it for herself. Failure might kill her, but that was always the case. It hardly mattered if it was in battle or in another display of swordly might.

The sword saint was unimpressive. He locked eyes with Chikere as she arrived outside of the port he had just landed in. He certainly had the power of an Augmentation cultivator, but something stifled his sword path. His blade, however, shone bright like a star. It was a perfect work of art. The fact that it radiated bloodlust and malice was of little consequence. Swords were meant to kill, and it would have its fill in her hands.

A field of blades grew around Chikere. Every weapon she could use took its intended position. Whether intended for defense or offense, each had their own place, shifting as the intentions of both cultivators changed and they judged each others capabilities. It was only an instant before they clashed. In their first exchange, the sword saint- what was his name, Zack?- swung his blade with great ferocity. His blade cut apart two of Chikeres own. Number 73 and number 67. A shame, but no great loss.

Chikeres understanding of the Harmonious Citadels style was the only thing that kept her from being cut down with every attack. Sometimes it wasnt enough. Zarbons sword would cut past her defenses, slicing into her. But every time it did so, she understood a little better.

Then came the fall of the newly promoted 74. Shortly after that, sliced directly in half- number 15. Better 15 than Chikeres neck probably. Though shed much rather not lose either. Chips and cracks were filling many of her swords as she swirled around it, all as a consequence of Zagars sword.

His sword. Not him. That was when Chikere began to truly understand her fight. She was fighting the blade. This sword saint was merely a vessel for it to enact its rage upon the world. Oh, he was perfectly in control of his own actions- but without the sword, he would just be a guy that was rather strong. He didnt have the technique to destroy her blades.

Who had made the sword? That question flashed through Chikeres mind every time she connected with it. Shed never felt another like it, but it wasnt new. A century old, at least. Perhaps more, but it wasnt ancient either. It should have been forged for the sword saints own hands. The grandmaster smith who had forged it should have made other blades of similar quality, or even surpassing it. So why had she not encountered any? Was it a fluke? A single spark of inspiration that couldnt be repeated?

Chikere deflected a thrust at her heart, causing it to merely puncture a lung. No, that wasnt quite right. She felt the blade. It was familiar, somehow. Then she realized. Just as Sadiq had forged blades for her from swordmasters weapons and their own blood, the blade echoed of a life lost. Yet it did not ring in glory and triumph, the exhilaration of a smith sacrificing themselves for the pinnacle. No, instead it seemed quite the opposite. The very thing that pushed it beyond its limits was the death of the smith by the blade not of their own will. It would have been an astounding sword regardless. Instead, Zathan had killed a smith who could have made other amazing weapons.

Upon that realization, Chikere stopped thinking. It was only for a moment, but she carelessly attacked with all of her energy. A simple attack with little technique behind it. Vast cutting power, but easily dodged or deflected. Or even blocked. Except, when the sword saint moved his weapon to do just that, it did nothing. Chikere cut through his sword like it was made of paper and following the sword, the sword saint.

Chikere caught the fragments of the blade in her hand. A clean cut, but the spine of the sword was broken. It couldnt be repaired- it would be simpler to forge it anew. Chikere looked at her reflection in the two halves, and tears streamed down her face. She was a horrible person.

She thought to soak them in Zababwas blood, but the sword saint was unworthy of his essence being forged into a weapon. Chikere looked up. A city was watching. In her shame, she fled. Space sliced open, and she returned to her apprentice.

-----

... And thats why Im just as bad as him! Chikere sobbed, her body like a human puddle splayed out on the ground.

So you broke a sword, and now youre upset, Chidi confirmed. It is a shame, he nodded seriously. But I think this was what it wanted.

The swordmaster sat up, staring at the pieces still clutched in her artificial hand. Swords arent meant to kill those who make them, but instead those who wield them. Perhaps from that point on, this was never a sword at all.

The two sword fanatics nodded together, as if they had uncovered deep truths of the universe.

Aconite just watched them from a distance, tilting her head in confusion and sometimes sighing. Then she realized something. If Chikere had killed the sword saint, someone should probably tell someone. Specifically, leaders in the Scarlet Alliance.

-----

Lets go! Catarina said, stomping towards the spaceport. And dont you dare say the Alliance needs us elsewhere.

Of course not, Timothy smiled. Yaitis has turned out to be strangely important to our movements. And the One Thousand Palm Sect will no doubt be launching attacks vigorously upon hearing this news. They are quite eager. Though the council will likely vote on whether we release the information about the saint of light.

I dont care, Catarina said. The Exalted Quadrant doesnt matter. The rest of the council will do fine without us. We can finally see Chidi.

Youre just excited because he asked about learning formations from you.

He was a good student, for what he sat through. But I thought you were the one concerned about his wellbeing the most, werent you dear husband?

Timothy shrugged. I was. But as he survived trials and Chikere, I gradually had to come to accept that we had no control over that.

Catarina nodded. But now we do. And were going to shatter all of the Harmonious Citadel formations on Yaitis for daring to keep our son away from us for so long.

Of course, Timothy nodded. Perhaps we might even make it a family project. If Chidi is interested.

Catarina couldnt help but skip along. We may not be so imposing as Chikere, but he can still see our power and what we are able to teach him.

Or what you can teach him at least. He wasnt particularly interested in shields, and I have the feeling my swordsmanship isnt up to par, Timothy shrugged. Occasional messages werent enough. Hed talked to Anton more frequently even shortly after the man had been flung into a star and lost his communications devices. He needed to connect more with his own son.

-----

A few years passed in an instant. In those years, the beasts of the sea continued to breed and grow in number- but more troublingly, individual power. Anton would not despair, however. Inistra and its people would survive. He wished them to fight off the threat with the fewest losses possible, but he was under no illusions that there would be more deaths. Some had already perished, delving into depths too flush with beasts, either through overconfidence or misperceptions. But the beasts had to be culled. The signs were clear, and the damage they caused even without overfilling the seas was significant.

Humans had not remained stagnant in their growth. While any individual advanced at most a few ranks within the later stages of cultivation, more humans grew their cultivation overall then each year prior. Inistra was on an upswing after their near complete annihilation of upper realms spies. That would be resolved soon enough, though it was important to not put it off or forget about it just because of the beast troubles.

Around the Reef of Serenity in particular, Anton had worked with Cahya and thereafter other members of the Branching Coral Sect. He had seen what they could do, how they could grow- and how they could influence various corals to do the same. While most were small, starting off around the size of a palm or for the softer ones perhaps a flowing shape an arms length, few surpassed those limits except by small multiples. From the perspective of a cultivator, doubling or tripling such a creature in size was mostly irrelevant.

However, recent developments proved beneficial with Antons guidance helping Cahya and through her others of the sect intrigued by her growth. She was but one example of many throughout the planet. Ceretos had recovered over the course of six centuries without any outside help, but a simple half century of Antons presence was boosting the process on Inistra.

Anton had some doubts about whether coral would be the ultimate salvation of the planet. Then again, no one thing was important on its own. The creatures were beautiful, animals that crafted homes of stone and dwelled along with algae that provided them sustenance. Brilliant colors only went so far. They needed something more.

Like the toxins of some particular species. The flexibility of others, which when controlled by cultivators could restrain approaching beasts. And the durability of yet others, building ever more complex and sizable constructions. From the size of a palm to the size of a man, cultivators helped the creatures develop. Formerly reliant on sunlight, they could only dwell so deep. With greater heights, some of them might have overtopped the reefs and burst out of the surface of the water. But with infusions of natural energy they could settle somewhat deeper, handle somewhat different environments. They were placed all around the Reef of Serenity, deep enough to not scrape upon a ship but also covering enough area to restrict other sea beasts. While they might not necessarily harm them, they could provide as warnings- or silent killers, in the case of those with toxins.

Few beasts were interested in eating them, even as their cultivation developed. Where there was trouble, the Branching Coral Sect came to support them, just as the Reef of Serenitys other sects supported them.

That was the thing that Anton was most pleased with. Cooperation. Inistra was not particularly different from other planets of cultivators to begin with, but that meant each sect or clan or other group with power generally watching out for themselves. Here, they were working together. It might still be with their own interests in mind, but Anton was perfectly happy if people would accept that their own best interests went hand in hand with others.

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