DarkTechnomancer
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Fates Parallel Chapter 44 - Investment
🕑 Added 2021-03-15 20:04:20 +0000 UTCLee Jia woke to the familiar warmth of Eui’s healing. It occurred to her—not for the first time—that spiritual healing techniques were extremely convenient, especially paired with the enhanced physique of a martial artist. Still, she almost wished she could have fallen unconscious a bit faster—and stayed that way a bit longer, for that matter—being smashed into the stone was an extremely unpleasant experience.
By habit, Lee Jia extended her domain before even opening her eyes to gain her bearings. She was lying on a cot in an unfamiliar room, with Eui at her side. The room was tiny and nearly featureless except for the cot, a cabinet filled with cloth bandages and simple medicines, and a water basin. Lee Jia guessed she must be in the medical pavilion.
To her surprise, there was someone else in the room with them. Jia opened her eyes to see an uncharacteristically shame-faced looking Hayakawa standing behind Eui and watching with undisguised concern. She began to sit up, but was stopped by Eui pushing her back down gently by the shoulder.
“Stop. Don’t move around, yet. You’ve still got a few fractures that haven’t quite finished healing.”
Jia saw Hayakawa wince as Eui glared at her pointedly.
“My apologies, Miss Lee. I let my frustration get the better of me.”
Lee Jia groaned as she recalled the result of their impromptu duel.
“Ugh, I would prefer if you said I pushed you enough that you couldn’t hold back.”
Hayakawa nodded gravely.
“You did, but that doesn’t excuse my behaviour. I noticed your hesitation at the end of our match—you had something you held back, didn’t you?”
Jia briefly weighed the cost of keeping her lightning bolt talisman a secret, but decided that it wasn’t really that important.
“You saw my duel against Yan, right?”
She nodded knowingly.
“As I thought. You showed restraint appropriate to the situation and I took advantage of it to unleash my ultimate technique. I have no excuse.”
Lee Jia frowned as she tried to make sense of the technique Hayakawa had used to end their duel.
“What was that, anyway? One moment you were nowhere near me, and the next instant I was eating pavement.”
“My clan’s ultimate technique—the weightless fist. My execution is still inadequate—you would never have seen a true master’s strike at all. The technique renders the user entirely without weight briefly, but it becomes extremely difficult to move or even breathe. In exchange, our perception of time becomes different, and everything else appears to stand still.”
Jia blinked in Hayakawa in confusion for a moment.
“Did you stop time so you could punch me!?”
“That’s not quite—”
“That’s amazing!”
Hayakawa’s face reddened slightly as she seemed to battle internally with her conflicting feelings of pride and embarrassment. Eui glanced up from concentrating on her healing technique to briefly mutter.
“It was pretty fucking awesome.”
Hayakawa schooled her expression and bowed slightly.
“Thank you. Your techniques were quite impressive as well—no early second stage practitioner should have been able to push me so.”
Lee Jia realized with a start that this was the perfect opportunity to make her pitch to Hayakawa. It hadn’t gone quite the way she had hoped, but her plan had worked after all!
“It’s a result of combining techniques from different disciplines together, I think. I wouldn’t even be able to stand in the same ring as you as a mage, a martial artist, or a spiritual artist. It’s only by combining all three that I start to cross that chasm.”
Hayakawa crossed her arms and cocked her head curiously.
“Your talents are undeniable—and certainly you two have taken to interdisciplinary cultivation more than any others—but is the difference really so great? Splitting one’s training three ways is a lot of sacrifice for some extra versatility.”
Lee Jia tried to shrug, but the movement caused a pain in her ribs and earned her a stern glare from Eui. She smiled sheepishly instead.
“Well, there’s a lot more to it. The disciplines complement each other in more ways than just having more techniques to draw on. I can use spiritual aura techniques to enhance my do—my aura, for example.”
Hayakawa looked contemplative for a moment before responding.
“I’ve actually been meaning to ask about that. You and Miss An have an indescribable presence about you that I have only felt from the instructors here. I had hoped that awakening my own mana sense would help me to make sense of it, but it only brought more questions—why can’t I sense an aura from either of you?”
Jia glanced nervously at Eui, wondering how she could answer it. Eui noticed her glance and gave a mental suggestion.
“Just tell her a bare-bones version of the truth. Lying won’t do us any favors, and she’ll respect the secret if she thinks it’s some kind of special technique.”
Jia nodded and met Hayakawa’s gaze once more.
“It’s a result of our cultivation technique combining all three disciplines—we’re not really sure how it works, ourselves.”
She hummed thoughtfully, but seemed to accept Jia’s explanation. Before Hayakawa could speak again, Jia interjected with a question of her own.
“Speaking of auras, why haven’t you integrated arcane arts into your own fighting style? I noticed that you awakened your aura a while ago, but I’ve never seen you actually use it.”
Hayakawa pursed her lips and glanced warily at the door before sighing.
“Please respect the confidence in which I tell you this, but it’s not for lack of trying. I’ve found magical practice to be...vexing—to say nothing of spiritual arts, which I suspect may be beyond my understanding entirely. Even a single simple elemental bolt spell like the ones you used against me is enormously time consuming to craft, and the result is underwhelming for a single-use weapon.”
Jia fought to keep her expression neutral. This was it, this was her moment—she chose her next words very carefully.
“Qi awakenings are exceptionally difficult, and crafting talismans is pretty difficult in the first stage. I think we can probably help you with both of those problems, if you like. One is fairly simple—I’ll teach it to you either way as a show of good faith—but the other is a huge secret, and I can’t afford to share it lightly. I’ll need something from you in return.”
Hayakawa raised her eyebrows with interest.
“Oh? I suspected that you had reached some kind of compromise with Yan Zhihao after your duel—is that what you’re referring to?”
“It is. Even telling you as much as I have is pretty risky, but you trusted me to hold your words in confidence, so I’ll extend the same courtesy to you.”
Hayakawa took her time considering, and after a full minute of pacing finally turned back to Lee Jia.
“Alright, you piqued my interest. Start with the show of good faith, and then we can discuss trading favors.”
Jia nodded and sat up, ignoring both the pain and Eui’s protests.
“Do you have anything to write with?”
She didn’t, but after a few minutes Hayakawa and Eui managed to scrounge up a brush, a piece of cloth, and the water basin. Hayakawa eyed her skeptically as Jia prepared to inscribe a talisman with just those questionable materials.
“In theory, the whole point of arcane arts is that you don’t need fancy materials to inscribe talismans and formations. They help, but they’re not required. Even this should be enough.”
Probably. She’d never actually tried something like this.
“This technique should be pretty easy for you, I think. In martial arts, we guide our ki through our bodies, and then our ki guides our movements. Those movements have meaning, and if we guide our ki along the right paths, the resulting movements will be empowered with that meaning.”
Hayakawa nodded along, these were the fundamental basics of all martial arts.
“Transcribing a talisman is the same, except that the meaning comes from the mind, rather than the body. Our mana carries that meaning and holds it in the talisman, using the characters as a medium—but—what if I told you that you could transfer that meaning using your body instead?”
“As a martial artist, I would say that sounds highly preferable to the usual method.”
Jia nodded excitedly, she agreed, though Dae didn’t—he still stuck with the old-fashioned way. She focused on what was now a well-practiced technique as she spoke.
“Guide your ki in the right way, with the right intent—” she began to draw on the cloth with the water “—and your ki will guide your movements in a way that expresses that intent.”
As Lee Jia finished, the talisman glowed within her domain, though the glow began to fade almost immediately as the water started to dry.
“And there you have it, an instant talisman. You can also use your ki to activate a talisman, which will be more effective if the element matches—and it will if you used your ki to inscribe it in the first place.”
She demonstrated by holding the cloth out and pouring her ki into it. Jia cut the flow off before it was fully powered, but it still fired a tiny bolt that elicited a cute, high-pitched squeak from Eui as it crackled across her. Eui retaliated by punching Jia square in the gut.
“Oof! Ow, come on Eui, I’m injured.”
“Not enough, obviously! Ugh, now my hair is standing on end.”
Eui brandished her fist threateningly as she fruitlessly tried to fix her hair. Jia and Eui both froze when they heard the sound of laughter. Hayakawa had turned away and covered her mouth, she held up a hand as she tried to get her giggling under control.
“Hahahaha—s-sorry, just give—haha—give me a moment!”
Jia and Eui stared in stunned silence as Hayakawa finally managed to collect herself.
“Have you ever seen Hayakawa laugh?”
“I don’t think I’ve even seen her smile before.”
Hayakawa took a deep, steadying breath—only slightly ruined by a tiny chuckle—before turning back to them with her usual serious expression.
“My deepest apologies, that was unseemly. You seem like very close friends.”
Jia nodded dumbly.
“Uh, yeah. So what did you think of the technique?”
Hayakawa reached for the brush.
“May I?”
Lee Jia handed it over, and watched with a frown as Hayakawa found her own piece of cloth to practice with. It had taken Jia nearly an hour just to draw one useless character the first time she had learned this technique. Just finding the right ki pattern was likely to take—
Hayakawa finished her first attempt with a small flourish and the talisman lit up. Jia’s jaw dropped as Hayakawa held it up and poured ki into the makeshift talisman to activate it. Suddenly, the air felt heavier as a gravity-element mana shield popped into place around Hayakawa.
“Miss Lee, I think you’ve proven your point. We have a great deal to discuss.”
Jia could only stare dumbfounded as Hayakawa smiled proudly.
“Eui.”
“Yeah?”
“I think I know how Rika feels now.”
“Yeah.”
---
Hayakawa excused herself soon after that, insisting that she needed to practice the technique to perfection and meditate on what she had learned. Before she left, she promised Lee Jia that they would discuss more later.
Lee Jia thought her technique seemed pretty perfect the first time, but she recognized the look in Hayakawa’s eye—it was the same fervor that Dae had when he found a new book in the library to pore over. She supposed that one didn’t get to their level of expertise without a certain kind of passion for the craft.
She eyed Yan Yue skeptically for a moment—then again, maybe not. Their new roommate had rejoined them as soon as Jia and Eui left the medical pavilion. Apparently she had been waiting just outside the room—eavesdropping, no doubt. On the way back, she explained what had happened after Lee Jia fell unconscious.
“After you were so spectacularly defeated, I convinced Miss An to raise a bit of a fuss over Hayakawa’s use of such force in a friendly duel.”
“Not that I needed much convincing.”
Yue nodded at Eui in acknowledgement before continuing.
“Just so. That Miyata fellow made a few comments about Eui being even worse, but Hayakawa seemed sufficiently cowed, so I took the opportunity to suggest that she escort you to the medical pavilion and make sure you were alright.”
Jia raised a curious eyebrow at Yan Yue.
“You did all that to make sure I got a conversation with her?”
“Well, after witnessing your hilariously crude attempts, I thought you could use a bit of help.”
Lee Jia crossed her arms and looked away, blowing out her cheeks as she flushed a bit.
“Whatever, at least the duel made her more interested in what I had to offer. I might have been able to arrange something today if she wasn’t so keen on practicing calligraphy.”
“Perhaps. She certainly is diligent in her training, but it’s a step in the right direction, at least.”
“I feel like you could learn from her. How’d you manage to get to the third stage being so lazy?”
Yan Yue gave Lee Jia an afronted look.
“I am not lazy! Back home I cultivated through the night every evening—when I slept, it was always in the daytime. Exhausting my body constantly and training through the day has disrupted that routine, and I’ve yet to adjust. Besides, I think you set far too high a bar—I’ve never seen you take a break.”
Lee Jia narrowed her eyes at Yan Yue. Why did she insist on cultivating at night?
“And who’s fault is that? When have I even had the chance since you showed up?”
Yan Yue’s retort was cut off by Eui speaking up.
“Don’t pretend as if you aren’t just as cultivation-brained as Hayakawa or Hyeong. Your idea of ‘luxury’ is snacking on grilled meat and taking an afternoon nap.”
“Traitor! You’re supposed to be on my side!”
Eui scoffed and quickly snapped back at Jia’s accusation.
“My hair is still all frazzled from that stupid shock you gave me! You’re on your own for this one.”
Jia pouted moodily at her best friend, but Eui had a point—not about the shock, she’d be getting Eui back for that gut punch later. Jia had immersed herself in training since arriving at the academy, and other than the occasional gathering for tea with Eunae and Rika, she took very little time off.
Part of that was habit—living on the streets had been a constant fight for survival—but another part of it was a desire to gain her own freedom. Even now, she knew that she was weak—not as weak as she had been, but still a tiny speck in the grand scheme of things. In her rush to gain strength, she had brought more trouble down on herself than she was capable of handling, and now her only choice was to lay low and gain strength until she could.
In that way, she and Yan Yue were very much alike. They both urgently required enough power for the freedom to act as they pleased. Grimly, Lee Jia wondered if that was a self-perpetuating cycle. Would she be stuck chasing more power forever, only to find another problem that required more power after each step?
Well, for now she wouldn’t mind a bit of a rest. Not counting being knocked unconscious—twice—she hadn’t slept at all since—
Jia recalled the strange dream she’d had a few days ago. She still couldn’t remember what it had been about, but even now the strange technique it had inspired burned in her mind. There were a lot of oddities about the technique—and Jia was hesitant to trust something she had come up with in a dream—but she felt a strange urge to try practicing it.
The technique inherently combined disciplines, but the first step was spiritual—it involved cultivating a specific element within the soul. Jia wanted to consult with an expert before haphazardly opening meridians based on a hunch she had in a dream, but since Elder Qin had been giving her the cold shoulder, her next best option was—
“Yue, I’ve been meaning to ask—why do you insist on cultivating at night? It shouldn’t make any difference, right?”
“Once again, you haplessly inquire about the secrets of another’s cultivation. Well, I suppose I don’t mind, since you’re helping me train—but it’s generally considered to be quite rude, you know.”
Lee Jia grinned sheepishly and bowed a quick apology.
“S-sorry, ehehe.”
“Well, anyway, it has to do with my cultivation technique. It’s much more efficient for me to cultivate in darkness, or under the light of the moon.”
Jia looked askance at Yan Yue.
“What? That doesn’t make any sense, you’re making that up.”
She chuckled and shook her head.
“I assure you, I am not. The moon is host to extremely powerful spirits of darkness, and their power reaches all the way down from the heavens. My technique makes use of that power to directly absorb the element of darkness. Well, my master would call it Yin energy, but he’s an idiot.”
“S-should you be speaking that way of your master? Also, isn’t he the one that taught you?”
Yan Yue scoffed.
“Tsk, that fatty is my master in name only—a matter of appearances. Everything useful, I learned from my mother, and she from hers. It’s typical in Qin for techniques to be passed down by word of mouth from mother to daughter—Yin-aligned techniques are not looked on favorably by the men.”
Lee Jia hummed thoughtfully.
“Hmm, that explains why I couldn’t find any in the archives. So is there any difference between the element of darkness and, say—shadow?”
Yan Yue raised an eyebrow curiously.
“Shadow? Curious that you should mention it, but I suppose as a mage you’ve had more thorough lessons on mana theory.”
Oh, she had. It was always a struggle to stay awake through Magus Hwang’s droning on and on about different subtle distinctions between elements and how they could be combined and balanced. Yan Yue didn’t notice the glassy look in Lee Jia’s eyes and simply continued.
“I suppose most people would tell you there’s no difference, but as a cultivator of darkness myself, I can assure you there is. Darkness and Light are opposite elements, but Shadow is—paradoxically—a combination between the two. If there’s no light, then of course all that remains would be darkness, but without light there can’t be any shadows. Think of it this way—if the sun is Light, and the moon is Dark, then Shadow is the eclipse.”
Lee Jia frowned.
“Sounds kind of complicated. Does Shadow element mana ever form naturally?”
“It does, but it’s extremely rare. It usually only forms during a solar eclipse. Why the sudden interest, anyway?”
“Just a—a theory, I guess? I...discovered a technique that cultivates the Shadow element, but it’s um, untested. It might not actually work.”
Yan Yue gave Jia a curious glance, but then shrugged.
“I’d give it up, then. I don’t know where you dug up that technique, but pioneering strange, untested cultivation methods is a recipe for disaster. Besides, you’d only be able to efficiently train it during a solar eclipse.”
Lee Jia nodded. Yue’s logic was sound—trying to practice some weird technique that used a rare, esoteric element was already madness, and that was without considering that she had learned it in a dream.
So then why did Jia still feel so compelled to try it?
