Ryker stumbled through the mountain range, his throat hoarse and his body drained.
Whenever he entered such a state, his body wouldn't have an accurate grasp on how to conserve its energy. Fueled by whatever emotion it was, he would feel as though his stamina was endless, when the reality was that he was exhausting himself at an extreme.
If it wasn't for the fact Ryker had predicted that he would have an episode the day he succeeded in convincing the old man, and had thus planned a route of retreat for himself, it was unknown if he would have made it back. It was impossible that those guards would know these routes better than he would.
As for the fall out of what he had done, Ryker didn't care. That nightwalker chose the worst time to seek out his revenge. With the limiters on his physical capabilities having been removed for a brief time, Ryker was several times more powerful than he usually was.
Ryker collapsed before his cabin door, his lungs screaming. His breath felt like hot coals dancing up and down his throat, making it so that on one hand, he wanted nothing more than to stop breathing all together, but on the other, he needed the exact opposite.
Raspy coughs and thick spittle flew from Ryker's mouth. The quiet mountainous woods were filled with his hacking and wheezing, what should have been the eerie sound of nature beneath the moonlight assaulted by something foreign.
Ryker's hand pushed the door of his cabin open, dragging his body in one inch at a time. His lack of food was suddenly all too obvious to him at that moment. Even as he pushed the large wooden box off of his back and crashed onto the ground, it wasn't his attempts at catching his breath that were the loudest to his ears, but rather the loud grumbling of his stomach.
'A girl should keep her promises, you know.'
Ryker couldn't help but chuckle to himself. Even as the emotional high was fading, the grin on his face wouldn't fade. One would have thought that the bland wooden ceiling above him was the most beautiful sight in the world.
'18 years…'
That day, on his third birthday, a celebration was held in the Valorian Clan for Ryker's welcome to the family. It was a tradition every child of a prestigious family went through, but the name was more innocent than the reality of it all was.
The 'welcome' was nothing more than a family judging the worth of the next generation. At three years old, a child would be brought before an extended group of family and friends to have their talent displayed to all. As for Ryker, he had the luck of being the son of a main descendant, and with that he gained the privilege of having quite the crowd for his own 'welcome'.
The story didn't end as one might expect. Not only was Ryker's welcome a hit, he was crowned as the kind of genius that might not be seen even through several millennia.
The talent of a potential Mythical Master was divided into nine grades. These grades were denoted by the titles of 1st Circle Talent up to a 9th Circle Talent. The dividing lines of these grades only became greater as one stepped higher and higher.
These grades didn't just give one a fancy label, but was rather directly correlated to the kind of expert they could become. Mythical Masters gained their strength from contracting Spirit Beasts and building a bond together. The talent level of your Circle could decide how great of a Spirit Beast you could initially contract, making it the most valuable metric in estimating the future of an expert.
Ryker's future couldn't have been brighter. Blessed with 9th Circle Talent, he was destined for greatness. He would be able to contract a beast with 9th Circle Talent immediately, allowing him the fastest cultivation speed there could be. That was… until he made a mistake that had stuck with him to this day.
When a normal three year old made a mistake, it might be fixed with a light cry and a hug from mommy. But when Ryker contracted a beauty tool as his first Spirit Beast, it felt as though a dark cloud had been cast over the Valorian Clan.
Ryker was just a sweet and innocent kid. He liked playing with his mother's mirror so much that he never wanted it to leave his side. Maybe he was just that vain.
Contracting a Spirit Beast was supposed to be a difficult process. Contracting a Mystery Spirit Beast without a consciousness of its own should have been nearly impossible. Yet, somehow, a three year old had managed to do so. Ryker didn't know whether to praise his talent or his bad luck.
There were a few major categories of Spirit Beast. But of them, there was an important dividing line. Though living, breathing beasts were what one often thought of when Spirit Beasts were mentioned, the creations of Mystery Craftsmen could also be contracted.
There were Mythical Master Swordsman who contracted swords as their first, and there were spearman who did the same with spears. Though these experts were of the minority, they did exist.
Still, what all of these Mythical Masters had in common was the fact their Mystery Treasures was that they all had a Spirit. This Spirit was what made Spirit Beasts and certain high level Mystery Treasures special. It was this Spirit that was important in the connection between it and a Mythical Master.
The small mirror that took up the space of Ryker's first contract hadn't had a Spirit at the time. Its only special qualities could be said to be the fact it was an heirloom passed down his mother's family for generations and also happened to be made out of precious materials that were worth an arm and a leg. But, much like gold and silver on this world, though the materials were precious, they weren't exactly useful.
To this day, Ryker still wasn't quite sure how he managed to succeed with such a contract. What he did know, though, was that from that day forth, his life changed.
