The run became unbearable for Arson. He started to feel sharper pains tear across his limbs and body. Some of the sensations filled his skin with enough searing heat to make flashes of white fill his vision even with his eyes closed. The pain made him want to curl up into a ball and wait for the experience to end, but the moment he slowed, the pain intensified, which only motivated him to pick up his pace to the best of his ability. Arson could feel himself losing consciousness. His limbs grew heavy. His eyelids sagged, and in that moment he felt as if his name was being screamed from a distance. The sound of the person’s voice was enough to tell Arson something was wrong. He wasn’t entirely aware of his current state, but the worry in the individual’s screams made Arson wonder. Wonder what would happen if he continued to experience the torture of the sandstorm. Wonder what would happen if he fell asleep within a den of wolves and continued to struggle to breathe while being consumed by sand. Wonder what would happen if he continued to bleed. Arson didn’t get to finish his line of thinking. His eyes unable to open. His limbs no longer listening to his direct commands. All that was felt in the moment before he passed out completely was the sensation of tall grass that he landed in softening his fall, and a cool breeze across his sand ripped skin. “Arson!” … Almarine made it to the eye of the storm and sighed. This area of the natural challenge had been formed for two reasons. One to protect the AncientArtifact she’d hidden here after her son Arkanous died. While the second was to heal any that managed to make it through the death trap. Even Almarine had been shredded while she rushed to Arson’s side, but the breeze filled with water and various light manas whipped through her clothing and eased the scratches on her body. Almarine wanted to take Arson from this place, but this was not the same as his near drowning that morning. Being able to live long enough to heal and receive the reward left here, was all part of the challenge. Arson slept face down and snored, but still Almarine wondered if she should step in and help. An instinct that she’d do more harm if she followed through was enough for her to stand nearby and watch the large gashes in his skin made from claws slowly stitch themselves together and vanish without a trace of scars or internal damage. “What am I going to do with you?” Almarine sat in the grass beside Arson. The song being hummed on her lips from a time that predated the realm she lived in, flowed out of her unconsciously while she stroked Arson’s head and hair. He slept for an entire day. Almarine never moved from his side, until he started to stir. Before Arson could even manage to turn over and see the sky above, Almarine stepped back from his side, and immersed herself in the boundary of the surrounding storm, once more unseen as she watched over Arson. She smiled to herself when he got to his feet, and looked around himself. The second step back was taken after Arson’s eyes locked onto her outline even through the wall like layer of sand that separated them from one another. This boy… Arson squinted, but eventually turned around, dismissing his attention from the storm, and once more focused on his objective. “Lets see just how devoted you are, boy.” … Arson felt watched. The sensation was the same feeling he got when Almarine watched him from the other side of the room while he and Xani built the CityNation of Maelstrom, or he and Khalif ran obstacle courses of the orphan mother’s design. He had to ignore the feeling, and decided to move inward. The portion of grassland he was inside soothed Arson with every step he took. A breeze like a summer’s evening entered his body with every breath he took, and Arson smirked. “Another one down, as long as I can find whatever is in here and make it out safely.” Arson had been mentally checking off each challenge he completed. The list grew shorter with every day that passed but Arson couldn’t help but feel his time to get through his list was running out. Almarine hadn’t talked to him, but the other orphans started to treat him in a way that Arson associated with the distance most the orphans gave to those about to be adopted, or that had been claimed by powerful Cultivators as future disciples. I don’t want to leave the orphanage, but none of the other kids I’ve seen get taken ever seemed to have a choice… “I wonder if Almarine would keep me if I asked,” mumbled Arson to himself. The words heard made his observer frown. The thought one that had kept the orphan mother more reserved than normal. Arson continued, until he found a stage with four pedestals, one at each corner. The stage was surrounded by water and sand, but had a set of stairs that led from the base of the stages exterior, directly to centerstage. Arson took every step slowly. His now changed perspective in wonder at the potential of danger with each step taken. Instead he found himself surrounded by four items. A nexus stone. A bow. A shield, and a gauntlet. “There are paths in life, decisions that must be made,” said a voice that emanated from all around Arson. Arson spun slowly. The smile on his face widened, but his inner anxiety rose at being spoken to from the sky above him. “What are these paths?” asked Arson. His gesture toward the pedestals prompted the voice to continue even without him knowing. “There are many paths that come from these base four, but ultimately, there are only four paths,” explained the voice. “There is the path of armaments and martial forms; there is the path of weaponry and tools; the path of defense and technology; and finally the path of science and magic,” finished the voice. A soft light flickered like an aurora, first above the gauntlet, then bow, before the shield then finally the nexus stone. Arson thought to himself and approached each pedestal one after another. The gauntlet was a void black. The links between each segment and sections of the armament were so tiny that they themselves looked like looped grains of sand made from a obsidian metal. A detail too fine for even Arson’s noteworthy eyes to be able to perceive. The stars within his irises illuminated characteristics of almost everything Arson looked at, and the capability was being refined the more Arson perceived with each day. He moved on to the bow, still only looking at the qualities presented in the craftsmanship of each item. The ranged weapon’s shaft was filled with gears to the point that Arson couldn’t even guess at the functions being displayed. Arson was tempted, but decided to move on. The shield filled with a rich white gold light the closer Arson closed in. Its face inscribed with an image that reminded Arson of the large floating orb he’d found earlier that same day. A dome of light started to extend outward from the shield which made Arson stop in his tracks. He looked at the final item and shook his head, forced to return to centerstage to make his exit. He’d already tried nexus stones and couldn’t see any significant difference between the one on the pedestal, and the ones held inside the precinct. The dome of light around the shield retracted itself and Arson only took secondary glances at the other pedestals. “Almarine has never forced me to focus on one thing, and I enjoy everything I am allowed to do, I’m sorry, Mr. Voice, but it's all or nothing for me, so—“ Before Arson could even manage to finish his statement, his decision was made. Another box flickered and disappeared so quickly that Arson didn’t see the synergy that took place. All four items joined into a single construction. The shield bow dissolved into mana the moment it finished being formed. The buckler and ranged weapon combination entered through the pores of Arson’s back and sped through his veins and into his left hand. The image of a ring could be seen, but it too vanished before Arson could notice what occurred. One of three seals hidden within Arson’s mind, body, and soul triggered for Arson in that moment. A 18 season cycle timer as unseen as every other notification since he started to complete challenges was also taken from Arson’s sight before he could see it, but still he wore a smile. The seal that had just been placed on his body was the second of the three seals. The first had been placed on his mind the day he’d been taken from his parents, and this seal scattered the thoughts and memories of all involved with Arson’s naming ceremony. Even his eidetic memory had been distorted by the system that day. It was the only way to ensure that all parties involved weren’t able to interact and solve the mystery of Arson’s disappearance. If his mother could see the progress he’d made under the distant family member Arson had been sent to by the system, even she would doubt the need of her direct interaction with her own son being necessary or vital to his longevity. The Ancient Artifact now connected to Arson would protect him even while inactive. The changes to his body were immediate, but far from over. The gradual refinement of his cells had begun, and would continue even after he managed to form a core if he ever did. From that point onward the rest of the challenges were different. Arson didn’t know how close to death he’d been, but pushed the cold impressions he felt that ran through his body, when he’d run through the sandstorm to the back of his mind, in preparation for his exit. He was able to leave without being plagued by the wolves, but took far longer to exit the area’s perimeter maze. The maze hadn’t changed while he ran across the wall tops to enter the sandstorm, but now that he had managed to do so without being subjected to the normal changes in layout that challenged those who attempted to traverse the area, every path out fluctuated violently. The once seamless transitioning of walls had shifted into a dangerous weave of collisions and sandstone eruptions. Arson was forced to dive out of the way of two walls that closed in on him before they clapped together and crumbled into debris. By the time Arson emerged he was haggard and exhausted. The sensation of sleep filled his mind and Arson for the first time in days decided to go to his room and sleep. In his mind he’d done a lot and wondered if he needed sleep due to everything he’d accomplished, but in reality his body needed to balance out the excess of ambient mana that had suffused into his physical makeup. The processes would aid his mind and soul as well, but only the remainder of energy left after his body used what was necessary to grow. He found his room. Lay on his bed without a single word, and found himself asleep in a blink. Though he slept, Arson felt himself, or his consciousness, awaken in a new place. A large black void stretched around him endlessly. Lying on a floor both invisible and formless in the same way he fell asleep on his bed, Arson lifted himself into a sitting position. “Where am I?” asked Arson to himself. The words echoed through the area and he felt a vibration return a moment later that made him feel warm from head to toe. Almost as if he stood momentarily in front of the odd machine he’d found, the correlation between what he felt and the sensation was recognized in that moment. “Is that what mana feels like?” Arson asked himself. Once more the words went out through the expanse and the feeling of what he assumed to be mana returned even heavier. The wash of power feeling similar to standing underneath the suns rays during mid morning. “This is your soul realm, child,” said Almarine. Arson turned his head and found the woman standing right next to him, an odd expression of confusion on her face. “If it is my soul realm, how did you get here?” asked Arson angrily. He’d avoided talking to Almarine until he’d become strong enough to ask her what he wanted to about the realms and what they truly had to offer Arson. He knew she couldn’t answer his questions, and had come to assume that it was due to his being mortal. Her response doing nothing but fanning the flames of what he felt further. “As you are a mortal, you haven’t built anything to protect your soul yet,” said Almarine with soft smile. Arson almost snapped an unnecessary complaint, but then realized she’d answered his question. “Do all mortals lack the ability to protect their souls?” “No, some have abilities granted through the blood of their ancestors that give them innate tools to often fight an aggressive invasion of the soul." An imperceptible light was created in that moment. An unseen twinkle so far in the distance that neither the influencer nor the creator of the light was able to perceive the supernova that took place during the stars reincarnation like that of a forgotten thought remembered. “Well then, are you just here to remind me about my limitations, or will you finally tell me what I must do to become a cultivator,” asked Arson. The question made Almarine’s eyes go wide as she sat next to Arson, but once settled the woman’s smile returned. “Well, there are a lot of things I could tell you, but none of them you would remember once we left here, without a core the impressions of this conversation will vanish the moment you wake up.” Arson nodded, and shrugged before continuing the talk, he hadn’t felt right since the treasure hunt and didn’t know he was the type to avoid confrontation. So the opportunity to speak with his guardian was seized. “So why are you here if I won’t even remember talking, isn’t that a waste of time for you?” Almarine shook her head, “No child, it is a blessing that you feel comfortable enough to let me in to the realm where all dreams are created and found, it shows the strength of our connection, I was pleasantly surprised once inside to be honest.” “Well my dream is to become a cultivator. Am I to find the answer as to how that is possible here?” More lights were lit in the distance, still unseen by both through the darkness of the void. Arson gestured around himself and Almarine responded with haste. “No, but you don’t even know what it is to become a cultivator, what is it exactly that you wish to cultivate exactly, power, influence, knowledge, you speak from a perspective that is without understanding, Arson, it is why I worry most for you.” “Would you have to worry if you taught me how to become a strong Cultivator, you do not seem to struggle as others within the slums do.” “I struggle in a different way, child, and what do you know of the slums?” Arson looked down in thought, and then back toward Almarine. “I know what I have seen through Xani’s satellite,” said Arson. Almarine scoffed and laughed. “She has built a drone, child, not a satellite, and witnessing violence or poverty from an areal view is not the same as living within the cold and dark streets themselves.” “Must I learn these types of things to become a Cultivator?” “No, but those elements of life may grant you a gratitude that may help you in the long run,” stated Almarine seriously. Arson could feel underlying emotions and sensations from his guardian, and understood what she implied even more than normal when they spoke in that moment. “Am I doing something wrong? I keep facing my fear, and climbing as high as I can, but nothing seems to work,” said Arson. “Is that what you wish to Cultivate, situations filled with fear, or maybe the overcoming of fear?” “I want to know what to do in every situation, have an answer for any question I can ask, have the power to build a city like Maelstrom, a place for orphans like me, a place where we can go to be free to do what we want, even if we are mortal, a place for potential and passion, maybe…?” Though he had started strong, the more Arson thought, the more Arson’s wants grew. The manifestation of his will being started far younger than most cultivators, but not all by far. "So what is your answer child?” asked Almarine, seeing his answer take hold within himself and the vibration of mana around them begin to spin slowly. “I want to cultivate my ability to help.”
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