Chapter XXV: Providence Republic I
Onin
Sengoku Empire
The Great Plateau
Month of the Pangolin 9, 172 ,328 DE
"You said my mother came to you Master for help. Who is your Master? Why did my mother go to him?"
Magabe smiles sadly for a moment. "Was. My master died fighting the minions of the Dragon Gods. He stood against three Transcendent Dragons to buy time for me to lead your mother through an escape tunnel from his castle. He killed one and wounded the others. While your mother fled, I lured the two surviving Dragons withing the attack range of a Watch Tower and activated some of its weaponry. The Dragons died, and I lived. I never saw your mother again.
WhupWhupWhupWhup.
From the northeast, a noise that sounds similar to propellers, only propellers spinning faster than any I have encountered, grows closer. I glance toward the sound, but I cannot see anything past the trees lining the path.
"Your mother was pregnant with you, but she had been poisoned by a Dark tainted Dragon, and you were damaged. She sought a cure for the damage the poison had done to you. My Master was both a Grandmaster Artificer and a Grandmaster Alchemist, but he was unable to find an antidote for the poison or a way to heal you before we were attacked by the Dragons."
Noticing my attention, Magabe appears to frown slightly. "Unlike nearly all the other Dragons, those three reached Transcendence without being tainted by the Primal Powers, so they did not trigger the defenses of the Watch Towers. There is nothing to stop anything that has not been tainted or corrupted by the Primal Powers from passing he Watch Towers, and there even those that have found ways to used the Primal Powers without being tainted by them. It almost always relies on forming a pact with a being from the Border Realms, the Realms that lies partial without our metaverse and partly with the sphere of influence of one or more Primal Powers. As a Great Beast, you must always be wary of those who serve the Primal Powers, even here on the Great Plateau."
As the sound grows closer, Magabe looks up. The volume of the noise would drown out the sound of normal conversation, but despite him not changing the volume he speaks in, Magabe's words remain clear. "The Providence Republic are another group you should be wary of. They do not serve the Primal Powers, but they have insane, unnatural beliefs and desire to force them upon the entire world."
For a few second, a strange flying machine becomes visible. It has a roughly fourteen or fifteen meter long body that reminds of a short fat sausage, with a projection rising up on either end. Shafts rise up from each projection, and propellers nearly half the length of the machine spin at an extremely fast speed on each shaft.
"That is from the Providence Republic. It is called a helicopter."
I frown and mumble to myself. "I don't sense any form of Power keeping it aloft. How does that thing fly?"
My words should not have been audible over the noise, but Magabe clearly heard them. "It can barely fly. It uses a rather specific application of air-based force and aerodynamics, but its altitude is extremely limited. If the rotors stop spinning, it will fall like a rock."
From the sound, the helicopter, as Magabe named it, appears to land near the Grand Arena, and I turn onto a path that should lead me closer to it. With an amused expression on his face, Magabe follows, but we do not continue our conversation.
Reaching the Grand Arena, I do not see the helicopter and circle around the east side, where I find it siting in the middle of a formerly well-maintained lawn. Panels on the lower surface of the helicopter have opened, and multi-section struts with wheels on the end stick out from them. The wheels have torn huge ruts in the lawn, and the petals from the flower in the flowerbeds lining the cobblestone pavement surrounding the arena have been scattered everywhere.
The helicopter itself was built using construction methods that are nothing like anything I have ever seen used. Just at a glance, the red and blue paint covering the exterior appears far different from the ones I have seen. The smooth and glossy surface of the paint shows no signs of marks from any form or brush. I cannot tell how it was applied. An energy barrier that shows no signs of being formed by Yuan Qi blocks the open hatch at the back of the vehicle. The controls cannot be seen, and high-backed benches fill the large open compartment taking up the majority of the interior. From the way the outer skin wraps around the edge of the hatch and the edge of the lowered ramp, it cannot be more than a couple of millimeters thick. I cannot imagine that the outer skin could stop so much as a woodpecker from punching a hole through it. Even the Silver Princess , which is a racing yacht, has over eight millimeter plating on the gondola section.
Hundreds of the humans in the area are staring at the helicopter and talking about it. Listening to them, the helicopter is apparently not something unfamiliar to many of them, but it is not clear how often they see the machines. There is not sign of whoever was flying or riding in the helicopter, but a crowd has gathered at the main east entrance to the Grand Arena.
As I approach the entrance, a number of the humans in the crowd stop talking and look around nervously. I am still trying to project an idea of nonexistence in to my awareness, but it is obviously not working even a quarter as well as it did previously.
Magabe laughs. "How you view the world affects your aura. What you think of as not aggressive is like having an enraged Beast breathing down their necks for a normal human. You are not a cold, emotionless, ambush predator like a spider. Your aggression and bloodlust are a part of the very core of your Soul. You appear to be on the hunt and are even more aggressive than normal."
Pausing, I observe the nervous humans and try to restrict all my emotions from entering into my awareness. I cannot tell any difference in my awareness, but the nervous humans appear to settle down a bit. As I slowly continue toward the entry, the crowd mills around, and while they do not recognize my presence on a conscious level, they make room for me to pass.
Inside the Grand Arena's walls, a gallery runs the entire circumference of the structure. General stairways lead up to the bleacher seating, and a secured stairway leads to the private boxes for the Sengoku Empire's clans. A ward blocks the private access stairs. Guards stand on either side of those stairs, and a metal plate on the wall appears to be a device for detecting and analyzing Yuan Qi. I cannot be sure, but from the way it looks in the Eidos, it seems to be meant for identifying energy signatures and lowering the ward. There is no sign of whoever was on the helicopter, and before going up to the general bleachers, I do not see anyone go near the secured stairs.
After getting up to bleachers, I see hundred of people on the sand of the arena. Many of them are young, either students of various schools or former students less than twenty years of age, but nearly as many are much older, their teachers, parents, aunts, and uncles. Scanning the hundreds of people, I do not see anyone that looks like they might have arrived in the helicopter. Everyone is either dressed in kimonos or the uniforms of a few of the larger, more well-know sects just on the west side of the Kami Kaze Mountains.
As I scan the arena floor, many, but still a minority, of the older humans look around. With lowered brows and quizzical expressions, they carefully examine the bleachers, and not seeming to find what they want, a few shift their stares to the private boxes above the bleachers. Eventually, when they cannot identify what has disturbed them, they turn their attention back to their juniors.
Noticing Magabe's smug expression, I give him a scowl, and he laughs. "Since looking at the helicopter, you are even more aggressive than ever. The bloodlust in your awareness has put everyone with better than average awareness on edge."
With an indifferent shrug, I return my attention to the humans in the arena. After a few minutes another group of humans enters the sands from a gate in the wall below my section of the bleachers. From their appearances, if I was not sure they were humans, I would wonder if they were half Beastman. All of them have multiple tattoos and many pieces of implanted jewelry. The four females have their hair dyed in strange colors: blue, purple, green, and pink. As the females strut across the sand with the swagger commonly seen in male street thugs, the three males scurry on their heels with the mannerism of effeminate sycophants. Following behind the sycophants, ten more nearly-naked males, with collars on their necks and shackles on their ankles and wrists, stumble through the reddish-brown sand covering the arena.
Trailing at the back of the group, a human male, who I have seen before, leads a five man squad with the strangely shaped rifles. The rifles do not appear to be Yuan Qi guns, but rather fire-powder guns, with roughly ten to twelve millimeter bores. The man leading the group is Toomey, the mercenary that the Miura Ryo and his noble morons had hired to attack Aoi and me.
As I examine Toomey with my awareness, he turns to stare intently at the section of the stands where I stand next to Magabe. With narrowed eyes, he shifts his eyes from person to person. After looking at everyone nearby, he stares straight at me, but from his frowning, confused expression, he apparently cannot see me. From the way the Yuan Qi within him moves and flows, it becomes obvious that he is not in the Core Formation as he appears to be. His Cultivation feels strange, but he should be a peak Martial Warrior, or perhaps, a Martial Lord.
Magabe chuckles. "His Cultivation is not naturally acquired. The same applies to their exam takers. The soldiers are the only ones with natural Cultivation, but they have some very disgusting implants that have altered their patterns and affect their Cultivation."
I glance at Magabe. "How do you understand so much about their Cultivation?"
Magabe smiles. "I have been studying Cultivators a lot longer than Young Jones. Many of his experiments were suggested by me. His understanding of Cultivators is still weak. With that Soul of yours, you should be capable of understanding the nature and flaws of a Cultivators Cultivation as well as him already."
"Toomey is doing something to hide his real Cultivation."
Magabe nods. "Yes and no. He has an implant, a biological Artifact of sorts, that conceals his Cultivation."
With a frown, I try to find what Magabe is talking about, but I do not sense anything that might be the biological Artifact.
Drawing an extremely long and slender bladed sword similar to the rapiers common among the nobility of the Dunkle Sonne Empire, the purple-haired female turns to glare at Toomey and the soldiers. "Toomey, you breeder bastard, get those eunuchs lined up. We need to test our weapons."
