Kiro fell to his knees, chest heaving with effort as he broke from the vision. There was so much he didn’t understand. So many questions he needed to ask.
The piece of jade still rested underneath him, just a hair’s breadth away from his outstretched arm. How had it done that? He shivered, staring wearily at the slab.
And this was the source —
His hand just barely touched it, and he was once again swept up in a storm of thoughts.
* * *
ONE HUNDRED NINETY FOUR YEARS AGO
"Honored mystic of the Third Circle, the prisoners are not complying to our orders. No matter what we do, they refuse to give up their children, much less participate —"
"Useless peasant!" Hong Ma conjured a flame serpent, and the servant recoiled, shying away from the technique. "Do I have to do everything myself?"
The man opened his mouth, but she pushed him away, harrumphing. “Of course I do.”
She marched over to the cell, slamming her fist next to a terrified mystic of the Second Circle. "So… you choose to disobey my orders?"
A spark of rebellion lit in the woman’s eyes, and she blasted Hong Ma with a gout of white-hot fire. "I will not sell my newborn to some cruel experiment! You defeated us — fine. Just take some treasures and be on your way! But stealing our children? Have you no honor?"
The matriarch weathered the technique without a scratch. Her lips dipped into a frown, and she raised her palm, channeling her mana to make it glow a visible red. "I see. It looks as if you require an incentive."
She grasped onto the woman’s neck, and the prisoner laughed. "Hah! Did you forget I cultivate fire myself? Any flames hot enough to injure me will simply burn through, and my soul will finally be free!"
"Ah. Is that so?"
More mana. She pushed her will into the technique, and the skin slowly blistered.
The mystic gritted her teeth, glaring at her. “I’ve handled torture before. No matter what, you won’t get my children!”
“Alright, then.” Hong Ma smirked, channeling more mana into her hand. The searing energy poured into the woman’s body, rebelling against her weaker spirit.
A whimper escaped from the prisoner, and she started to shake. “W-what are you doing?”
With the slightest spark, the mana ignited.
The red glow intensified at the point of contact, and the woman screamed.
* * *
ONE HUNDRED SIXTY ONE YEARS AGO
Hong Ma watched as another talentless child was born, grinding her teeth to prevent herself from burning the entire clan down. This wasn't working! Even with such a concentration of fire-aspected mystics, these children were hardly better than those on Archea!
Without an exceptional foundation, the ritual would simply kill the ‘donor’ before anything was transferred. She needed someone of sufficient talent. She needed a Brave.
She glared at the boy's father. Even with the choice of any woman on this world, her last hope of producing an acceptable stepping stone had decided to interlope with a talentless wench. That simply wouldn't do.
"Honored matriarch, is something wrong?" The Warrior glanced at her, cradling his newborn in one arm and holding his wife in the other.
“Ahh… no, nothing is wrong.”
She couldn’t just force them to mate. She needed generations of talent interbreeding, and the larger her sampling population, the more likely it would be that someone exceptional was produced.
Yet, as things were, this was unacceptable. Her eyes flashed, and she turned towards them. "In fact, I would like to offer your child a special role in this society."
The man beamed, proudly holding his child up. "This humble mystic is honored that his child has been selected. What is his future occupation?"
"He shall tend to the farms." Hong Ma took the child in her own arms, patting him as if he was destined for greatness. "However… with this honor comes a great responsibility."
The mother gasped, and she gripped onto her husband's arm. "What responsibility, honored matriarch?"
"He will be unable to cultivate."
A stream of protests emerged, but Hong Ma silenced them with a hand. "It is necessary. Currently, those who harvest the grain are cultivating the ambient mana around them, leaving little for the crops themselves."
The father frowned. "Could he not simply stop his cultivation technique? I feel as if —"
"No. That is the only way." The matriarch let a little of her aura leak out, and the couple silenced.
"Of course, honored matriarch."
* * *
ONE HUNDRED SEVEN YEARS AGO
Hong Ma grinned as the first Sun lay on his deathbed, his lack of mana and strained body doing him in far earlier than even a normal Purification-stage mystic.
Ever since the implementation of the lower ranks, the people of Paradise had started producing a far greater percentage of talented youths. Breeding only talent with talent allowed for extraordinary results, even through the course of only a few generations.
The social structure of the clan was starting to solidify, and every time that someone had tried to go against her will, she had… disciplined them.
However, despite her clan’s immense progress, it was not enough. She needed to refine her upper ranks even further, and in order to promote growth, a civilization required conflict.
An ‘Elder’ stepped out behind her, bowing his head in reverence. “Honored mystic of the Third Circle, the sheep have all been gathered, and the wolves are ready to strike.”
She nodded. “I will be out momentarily. Prepare my signals.”
The old Sun’s eyes widened, and he coughed, reaching out to her. “H-honored matriarch… what was that?”
“Nothing that concerns you, Sun.” She gave him a gentle smile, and before he could react, her aura pressed down on him, stopping his heart.
Then, she stepped out of the hut, raising her arm in an invisible signal.
Attack.
