Chapter 2 — The Essence of Cultivation

After just about an hour of rest, Sylar’s soul was now reinfused with a versatile spread of the four Primal Essences, alongside a healthy amount of Form and Fate Essence, with a small trickle of Shadow and Space Essences for situational use. It was his preferred set-up for the limited store of Essence he could carry within his soul – unlike some mages that focused exclusive on one particular element, he valued being able to cast a wider variety of spells in his repertoire, even if he couldn’t repeatedly cast the same spells because of the lack of any one Essence in great quantities.

Much of the time had been spent waiting for the Transcendental Essences to funnel in – while they were commonplace here, they were still spread much more thinly than the Primal Essences were.

Inside the stationary extradimensional space of his

Right now, his goals were twofold: find civilisation, and survey the local environment for anything of value and for threats. Food wasn’t too much of an issue, since he could simply conjure a bunch of Goodberries with the Form, Space, and Life Essences permeating the Aether. No one would use such a precious resource for so frivolous a purpose back on Resham, but circumstances had changed.

And so, while casting a weak

If the exit vector had been pre-determined by its previous user from the time of the Rostaran Civilisation, it was possible that civilisation was nearby, even if the thousands of years since had shifted the exit point of the teleportation spell. If it wasn’t predetermined, and his arrival location was completely random, it spat in the face of all established rules of Teleportation magics, which made for excellent study material once he found his way to a more secure location.

Then, after just slightly more than ten minutes of travelling at a cautioned pace –

“

Suddenly alert, he spun toward the direction of the faint yell. With a minute expenditure of Fate and Wind Essences,

Hot on its heels, visible for only a few scant seconds, he saw a pair of lupine creatures, each almost the size of an adult human. One was almost ethereal in form, a near-transparent silver, while the other had a thick mane of dark fur. From where his physical body was, he could hear their snarling grow louder, alongside the sounds of wheels clumsily impacting against gravel.

They were said to be docile creatures, though. Why were they so enraged?

Sylar had no idea why Spirit Wolves were chasing down whatever poor soul was desperately trying to escape from their clutches, but he wasn’t about to stand around doing nothing. Common decency aside, it seemed that he had finally found some semblance of civilisation, and he wasn’t about to let something as simple as those creatures stand between him and the answers he sought.

He tapped on Fire and Form Essence, quickening his movements with a

As he ran, he went over his options. Combat as mages revolved almost exclusively around resource management, and that went doubly so for Divination specialists, who had the uncanny ability to discern the constituent Essences within the souls of their opponents.

“

The words were meaningless to Sylar, but the meaning was obvious from the sheer panic carried by the voice. With each passing second, the yelling grew louder still, the world passing by him rapidly under the influence of

“Eeek!”

The driver of the wagon shrieked loudly, jerking on the horse’s reins. That, unfortunately, only served to cause the horses to flinch, abruptly shifting their course, and in the process sent the wagon crashing over on its side. Sylar reacted instinctively, casting a quick

“Calm down!” Sylar urged, sparing only a brief glance for the fallen driver, who was flailing around in the morphed terrain. “You – damn it, you don’t understand Reshamin at all, do you?”

“

There would be a time and place to cast a spell of

The bestiaries were rich with descriptions of Spirit Wolves, as one of the few creatures from their Plane of origin that ventured into Resham. They always came as a pair, one existing within the Material Plane, while the other drifted in a place between Planes. With a flare of Space Essence just like any spell cast by a mage, the two could reverse their spatial relation, the physical turning incorporeal, while the ethereal would enter fully into the material world. The scholars were divided on whether they were truly separate creatures, or two halves of a single whole, but it really didn’t matter to Sylar.

He concentrated, slotting Essences into their desired positions. A glyph flared brightly from his extended palm, a metaphysical representation of the spell matrix appearing. With a rushing

Just as described, his initial salvo of

From the time that he’d released his first spell, Sylar had already been preparing the matrix of the follow-up spell, fully anticipating the ineffectiveness of

The texts were completely accurate, it seemed. While the more mundane half of the pair could be injured as any other opponent would be, only spells altered by an individual’s unique Core Essences could bring harm to the spectral wolf. Sylar’s specific Core Essence was based on Chaos, which altered the forms of the spells based on Wind Essence – such as

From one side, the local of this world was shouting words that were unintelligible to Sylar, but he thought he could get the gist of it. Shock, encouragement, cries of warning – unnecessary, but the sentiment was appreciated all the same.

Smoke billowed out from the burned coat of the physical wolf. Beside it, the other wolf had recovered from the effects of the

To his Diviner’s sight, Sylar could see the Essence flaring within the pair as they charged and flanked him from both sides, and he reacted accordingly. With hastened limbs, he leapt backward deftly, unnatural dexterity preventing him from tripping, as he timed the release of his next spell. Essence was being fed into his opponent’s spell matrix, energy flaring, and –

In the precise moment that the pair’s bodies switched properties, the Third Level

The end was near, now. Both wolves were struggling to rise to their feet, the spectral one only in slightly better shape than the burned and charred one. One final spell should do the trick.

They gave a final enraged howl, completely at odds with the regal nature that they were often described as, Essence flaring within their souls. The pattern was different, now. This was not the variant of

On pure reflex, he reacted the way he would have against any mage opponent, readying a counter for what was their version of the

Instead of striking into the fleshy form of an unprotected mage, however, their attacks found resistance against the

Used appropriately, a First Level spell could halt even a spell of the Second Level. Magical efficiency at its finest.

Where the spells met, the protective spell built of Earth Essence shielded against the cutting force of Wind Essence, being deposited into an Essence Field within the Aether. Sylar briefly considered his options – quickly draw upon the Essence before it dissipated completely, or press the attack?

There wasn’t yet a need to draw upon more Essence, since he had a healthy stock remaining, and so he decided to finish the job. Sylar grinned, tracking the bodies of his opponents that had glanced off his spell of warding, ready to deliver the final blow.

He’d already used up most of his gathered Fire and Wind Essences. Water Essence had been completely untouched, and now, they were being organised into one last spell to end the battle. Chaos Essence within the matrix imparted an element of disorder to the spell’s form, required to have any lasting effect on the spectral wolf. A layered glyph manifested in the air, in the vicinity of where he estimated the wolves would land based on their current trajectory.

A cloud of thick, condensed steam appeared in that space. With a hiss of vapour and an intense burst of radiance, the Fourth Level

No sense wasting good Essence. With how concentrated the Essence was, he could draw them into his soul at a respectable rate of about 1 Ferin per second. It was far,

By the time the steam cloud finally drifted away, his soul was 26 Ferins of Space Essence richer than he’d been previously. The expended Primal Essences were slowly being infused once more at a slower rate. Over the nine spells he’d casted since he heard the beginning of the commotion, he had accumulated 163 Pyrans of Soulburn – about a tenth of his maximum – that was now beginning to dissipate.

It had been a pretty decent showing, if he did say so himself. He didn’t tend to fight that much these days, but it was nice to see that habits from his adventuring days were more deeply ingrained than he’d thought. Now, it was time for him to take a breather, let all that excess Soulburn dissipate while he worked on getting back his expended Essence –

A cry of words he didn’t recognise that spewed from the still-trapped man’s lips made him reconsider that notion. Caught up in the adrenaline of the moment, he’d almost forgot what brought him to battle against the Spirit Wolves in the first place. Thankfully,

“ –

The man’s exuberant wailing transformed into blissful clarity, the spell doing the necessary work of translating the technicalities of the local language. Sylar was no stranger to such treatment, having taken up various requests and pleas for assistance during his time as an adventurer with his companions.

Now that the battle was over, Sylar had the time to study the man more carefully. Details leapt out at him – plump features, ruffled but embroidered robes that tread dangerously close to being ostentatious, an overturned wagon bearing an assortment of goods. Even without Divination magic, he’d place a heavy bet on the man being a local trader.

“I can’t thank you enough, honoured hero,” the man continued speaking, having somehow extricated himself from the quicksand-like ground Sylar had created in the aftermath of

“You are unhurt?” Sylar asked, giving another cursory inspection of the man. Though he voiced the words in his usual Reshamin, his lips and vocal cords moved of their own accord, being reshaped by the magics of the spell.

Wenchai bobbed his head up and down quickly, tidying up his clothing as best he could. It was a rather difficult task, considering the flakes of loose earth that stuck to them. “Thanks to you, brave hero! One can always count on great cultivators like yourself to save the needy in Penshan!”

A polite cough interrupted his musings. Wenchai shifted with mild unease, smiling sheepishly. “Ah… sir cultivator, if it is not too much trouble, about my cart…?”

He trailed off, eyes flicking between Sylar and his partially-ruined wagon. Sylar snorted in amusement, before gesturing with casual ease, sparing the 6 Ferins of Earth Essence for casting of the Level One

It wasn’t quite the intended purpose of

“Oh, thank you!” he gushed, before quickly taking stock of his inventory of trade goods. Sylar shook his head, amused. Traders really were the same, no matter which Plane they were in. Wenchai continued muttering, turning to look back at Sylar every now and then as he surveyed his remaining goods. “I swear, I don’t know why the Silver Guardians were so angry… chased me and the horses for over two hours, they did…”

Hmm… two hours?

Come to think of it, that time frame

… one thing for sure, was that he’d be better off not telling Wenchai of just

“Well, at least the supplies to the Lu Manor are still in order,” Wenchai continued chattering on, audibly relieved, posture relaxing from his previous tense state. “Master Lu’s letter sounded so urgent… if this shipment were delayed, I –“

He paused, before turning to face Sylar, grinning widely. “Ah! But where are my manners! Great Hero, will you spare this undeserving one of your name?”

His mannerisms were starting to irk Sylar, to be honest. Hopefully, the rest of the locals weren’t quite so… well, he didn’t even know quite how to put it into words.

“Sylar Spellsight, or Sylar Wershin. Take your pick.”

“

“Any chance of gold?” Sylar interrupted quickly, a faint smile on his lips. He’d dealt with traders before, and he knew this one’s type.

“Ah…” He glanced away, slightly embarrassed, coughing politely. “Perhaps something a little, ah, less material…?”

Yeah, he didn’t expect it to succeed. Considering that it was sort of his fault that the Spirit Wolves attacked Wenchai’s wagon, Sylar didn’t have much moral ground to press his case.

Instead, what he desired was

“Where exactly is this place?”

He blinked, visibly confused, before shrugging. “Ah, lost in meditation, Sir Cultivator? Happens to the best of us! We are just an hour away from Penshan in the Jinxiang Province!”

Those names meant nothing to him, but the chosen term of address was starting to bother him. How best to phrase the question, though?

He thought for several seconds, Wenchai’s nervous smile growing all the while. Eventually, though, Sylar shrugged. Direct was probably the best approach. In the event that it failed, it wasn’t anything a

“What are these

If he was confused before, Wenchai was outright befuddled now. “Cultivators…? But… were those not Spiritual Arts that you used to vanquish those foul beasts?” Then, his smile shifted into a knowing expression, sending Sylar a conspiratorial wink. “Ah! But of course! Sir Sylar is definitely

He tapped at his nose mischievously, as though taking part in some grand conspiracy, but Sylar couldn’t fathom as to what wild thoughts were running within the oddball’s mind. More importantly, though:

If so, were cultivators the equivalent of mages? Bit of an odd naming convention, seeing as the word was more closely associated with those tending to farmland, but Sylar supposed that an outsider such as himself had no right to complain. Once he got himself oriented in this world, he was curious to see how the mages here might differ from those in Resham.

“If I may, though…” Wenchai spoke hesitantly, peering curiously at him. “I’m afraid I don’t recognise what sect Sylar-definitely-not-a-cultivator hails from?”

He gestured pointedly at the emblem on Sylar’s robes, the crest of the Kingdom of Nimbria that had been bestowed upon him and his party. Though he left his adventuring days behind after dealing with the Lich, that had been a memento reminding him of those hectic five years he’d spent wandering the lands.

The question was odd, though. Most people tended to associate sects with the Monk organisations, such as the Order of the Closed Fist or the Way of the Winter’s Path. Most mages took up apprenticeships early on, before either continuing on with adventuring careers or setting up mage towers either individually or in collaboration with like-minded peers in magical academies.

Considering the question, though, Sylar gave the closest approximation he had to an answer, even if technically speaking he was the only member of his own so-called

“The Nimbrian Academy of Essence Studies. You wouldn’t have heard of it; it’s kind of far away.”

“The… what now?” Wenchai spoke, nonplussed, before shrugging. “Ah, well! Great Hero, if this merchant may ask you for a favour… if it is not too much trouble… you see, the horses ran off, and, well…”

Sylar waited patiently, as the man grew increasingly flustered while he made his request. “Could I trouble you to pull the wagon to Penshan? Do not worry, do not worry! There will be due compensation for your assistance!”

Huh, smart man. His adventuring party had charged by the hour when they were tasked with odd jobs.

Still, though, what did he mean by

“You… want me to lug your wagon? To a city an hour away?”

“Well… I mean, you

He trailed off, looking deliberately at Sylar. Meanwhile, the mage was starting to think that perhaps some cultural differences in mages here might be larger than he initially thought.

What kind of self-respecting mage pulled a carriage with his bare hands? Sure,

And

Yeah, he was most definitely

Truthfully, though, it wasn’t too much trouble. Besides, considering the present state of affairs, he was likely to be stuck here for quite some time, and having someone with knowledge of local happenings and with connections he could rely on might be worth it. It barely cost him anything, since he would eventually need to make his way to civilisation.

Of course, he’d still milk the trader for all the gold he could spare.

“I charge by the hour,” he said sternly, already stepping over to the front of the wagon.

“But of course!” Wenchai sounded affronted, as though insulted that that had even been a question. “No merchant worth his salt will ever dare short-change one of great talent such as yourself!”

“Laying on the praise a little thick there,” he commented dryly, readying his intended spell. Contrary to Wenchai’s words, he had no intention of performing manual labour when he could be relaxing instead. “Get on board.”

“Certainly!” He plopped himself atop the seat. Sylar joined him a moment later, much to his confusion. “Uhh –“

Mid-word, Sylar let the spell take hold, Shadow Essence forming the main constituent of the underlying matrix. Dark, wispy vapours coalesced together, before being knitted together as though strings on a loom, expanding outward and joining together. Beside him, Wenchai gasped loudly, mouth agape.

Odd. Was such magic uncommon? Sure, the commonfolk back in Resham didn’t deal with these branches of magic every day, considering how difficult it was to procure Shadow Essence at reasonable cost, but even they knew about the existence of these spells. Wenchai looked as though he was seeing the Deities themselves.

Shadow Essence was derived from the Hollow Reality, one of the Planes Beyond. Though reliable accounts of its nature were sparse, the generally accepted theory was that it mimicked the material world, stitched purely of Shadow Essence. At the pinnacle of Illusion magics, the goal was not to present a false reality, but to

This was no high-level Illusion spell, but

“What… what is

“We’ll ride to Penshan, then ditch the horses once we’re there. You lead the way,” Sylar said, handing over the reins that had been crafted alongside the phantom horses from the Hollow Reality. In truth, he could mentally direct the horses himself, but he wanted to spare what concentration he had for gathering lost Essence and prying information out of the trader.

“Of course!” The trader accepted the offered reins, hesitantly at first, before growing into open curiosity as he found that it was just as tangible as the horses were. “

With a mental order, Sylar stirred the constructs into motion. They began at a slow trod, letting Wenchai have some time to get used to the novelty of the Illusory magic, before breaking into a steady pace once he looked to be more comfortable with the task.

The wagon continued along on its way to Penshan. Now that the danger had passed, and he was once more back on track to make his delivery, it was clear that Wenchai had many questions regarding Sylar, if the furtive glances were any indication. Finally, Wenchai cleared his throat, and began to speak.

“This… forgive me for asking, great cultivator, but how have I never heard of you before?”

“I told you, I come from far away,” Sylar replied easily.

“Well! This humble one thanks you very much for your timely arrival,” Wenchai said. “What, ah, manner of business draws you to Penshan?”

Sylar considered the question. Without a sense of just what types of magic were available here, it didn’t seem like a good idea to talk about Teleportation magics stemming from an artifact that was so far out of the realm of what was practical from any living mage. Without an immediate solution that would let him return to Resham, his best course of action would be to further his understanding of the Transcendental Essences, and to check out the local mages.

“I’d like to meet other ma – I mean, cultivators in the area, if possible.” He tilted his head quizzically to one side. “Don’t suppose you’d know about the local situation?”

“Who do you think you’re speaking to?” The trader puffed his chest out, speaking with mock indignation. “Is there a soul in Penshan who

“Penshan lies in the State of Wu,” Wenchai began speaking with an air of self-importance. “Of the cultivation sects closest to Penshan, the three most well-known are the Righteous Heart Sect, the Radiant Star Sect, and the Crystal Path Sect. Together, they form the Penshan Alliance, that protects the townsfolk from Demonic Beasts and other horrors.”

He paused momentarily, before voicing an afterthought. “Speaking of which, I really need to make sure that the Elders of the Righteous Heart Sect hear about the aggressive behaviour by the Silver Guardians today. Maybe they’ll finally send someone down to cull their numbers a little.”

He clicked his tongue in annoyance, unaware that the culprit for said behaviour was, in fact, seated right next to him. Then, Wenchai glanced at Sylar, expression brightening. “Master Lu is well acquainted with Elder Ma of the Righteous Heart Sect, actually. If you’d like, I could try asking him if he could introduce you to them, mister

Yet another wink; the words carefully intoned. Sylar supposed that there

“That would be much appreciated,” he said diplomatically. “For now, though, is there anything else you can tell me about the neighbouring areas?”

He asked the question, but couldn’t fathom why Wenchai looked utterly dumbfounded. He was about to repeat it once more, but then Wenchai began to speak, and he quickly saw the problem.

“– what you said?”

“Is there anything else you can tell me about the region?” he asked once more.

Thankfully, his words were fully understood this time. Wenchai nodded obligingly, and began to tell him more about Penshan and its surroundings. There was a lot that he had to personally infer, since some trivial information that Wenchai took for granted was in fact unfamiliar to Sylar, but he got a close enough picture of the state of affairs here.

Mages – well,

Other states, though, operated differently. There, cultivators had either a larger say in the matters of running their lands, or were in fact members of the government structure themselves. It wasn’t too different from, say, the Magiocracy in Velen or the Sacred Order of the Five Dragons that guided the Zirconian Empire.

Of course, not all mages acted in the interest of the commonfolk. Some, that Wenchai termed ‘

Despite all that, there was one fact that bothered him. No, scratch that – Labyrinth of Eyes below, it didn’t just

“These cultivators of yours spend their lifetimes training their

“Of course!” Wenchai nodded rapidly, not at all bothered by Sylar’s aghast tone. “They say that the junior cultivators practice everyday from the time they are seven, and by the age of thirteen can split boulders with their bare hands! Was that not something you experienced yourself?”

… Sylar really hoped that Wenchai was misinformed, and that the source of power of these cultivators weren’t the same as that of mages, despite being able to use what he had termed ‘

For that matter, did they simply cast the same low-level spell over and over again? It

Wenchai continued speaking, oblivious to his thoughts. “I mean, I’ve heard of those from the Radiant Star Sect being able to punch out jets of flame with their

He elbowed Sylar in the ribs, holding on the reins with one hand. Sylar ignored him, thinking of other questions to ask. Truthfully speaking, much of his current interest lay in what the implications of having freely-available Transcendental Essences were to magical advancement of this world, but a merchant such as Wenchai wasn’t the right person to ask.

At present, spells requiring the Transcendentals other than Fate and Form higher than Fifth Level were difficult for him to cast, because he didn’t have much practice with infusing them into his soul, limited by their availability as he had been in Resham. Once he got settled down, he was keen to start working his way up the list of established spells whose matrices he’d memorised, but never got the chance to cast.

Perhaps he could even invent a spell or two from scratch, if he came across an issue that couldn’t be resolved through pre-existing spells. Substantiology and the related field of Spell Theory were crafts he’d dived into after retiring from adventuring life, and it wouldn’t do good for him to grow rusty.

And so it was, that Wenchai continued chattering on, guiding the

-o-o-o-

– Soulburn is shed at a rate proportional to current Soulburn (S). -d[S]/dt = a[S] + b, for some values a and b, that vary from individual to individual and can change during a person’s lifetime.

– The rate at which Essence is gathered from the mage’s surroundings follows first order kinetics with ambient Essence concentration, and is dependent on the amount of Essence already present within a soul. The lower the currently-infused Essence as a proportion of maximum Essence Capacity, and the greater the concentration of ambient Essence, the greater the rate that Essence can be drawn in.

– Occasionally, when spells meet, they can potentially react with one another, resulting in mutual annihilation. When this happens, constituent Essences of spells are deposited into the surrounding Aether, forming a localised