Ema
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Chapter 08 - Lilac's Anguish
🕑 Added 2025-08-05 10:43:13 +0000 UTCLilac’s point of view
“God I’m shaking…” My face burned as I stepped onto the platform, painfully aware of every stare fixed on me. Somehow, the silence made it worse—like the entire evaluation ground was holding its breath just for me.
"Why couldn't they've done this in private instead...?" I cursed inwardly. Matilda had assured me no one would care, that they'd be too wrapped up in their own nerves to notice mine. But standing here now, it felt like I was under a giant spotlight, like someone with a booming voice was announcing my every move.
“Thank god.” I almost sagged in relief when I realised that it would be Xiang assessing me. Compared to the other cultivator, Xiang looked infinitively nicer.
“Name and age?”
“Lilac, sixteen.”
“Jinx, sixteen.” Matilda and I answered in unison.
The synchrony was oddly nostalgic—like those moments back in high school when teachers took roll coll and I'd reflexively answer before they even finished saying my name.
After Xiang had finished recording our information on one of those rolley scrolls, it was time.
“Put your hand on the artefact.” Xiang said, his voice gentle—kind, even. It stood in stark contrast to his comrade's harsh tone.
For a moment, under the warmth of the cultivator's gaze, I almost forgot he was just an NPC.
A glance to my side revealed Matilda already extending her hand without pause. Brave as ever. Feeling emboldened, I gave a quick nod and raised my hand to follow her lead.
The instant the soft light emerged, I knew I'd passed. Just like that, the tension drained from my body—melting like snow in sunlight.
“So this is qi…” I marvelled inwardly. A notification prompt appeared, telling me something about gaining access to my cultivation status, but I was too dazed to read it properly.
“Thirteen-star talent. Water affinity.” Xiang smiled warmly, announcing the results of my exam with a pleased look on his face. “Pass.”
The moment that single word registered, it felt as though a great weight had lifted from my shoulders. I was elated—no, soaring.
But the euphoria turned out to be short-lived. From my right, I heard the sociopath sneer.
“... and harp affinity.” The sociopath shook his head, voice flat. "Fail."
“No...” My heart dropped. I watched as Matilda's expression suddenly twisted—surprise giving way to fury.
“What?!” Matilda cried, her eyes darting between me and Percival. I winced, tension coiling in my gut, already bracing for what was coming.
“Why the hell did I fail?!” She roared. "I've got twelve-star talent, don't I?"
But beneath the fire in tone, I caught it—familiar tremors of disappointment and pain. The kind my friend often hid behind anger.
Surprisingly, it was my examiner who responded.
“You qualify in terms of talent," Xiang began, voice gentle but serious. "But your affinities... they aren't combat-viable."
“So?” Matilda echoed my thoughts exactly.
Examiner Xiang looked like he was about to elaborate when his indifferent comrade rudely interrupted him.
“So, you’re dismissed.”
“But—” Now, even a stranger could tell that Matilda was on the verge of tears. Unfortunately, her pleading fell on deaf ears, as it was wasted on the cultivators.
“Jinx. That's enough," Examiner Xiang furrowed his brows as he glared at my best friend. “If you believe your evaluation was unfair, then rise in strength and prove us wrong in the inter-sect tournament. Until then—you're dismissed."
The way Xiang emphasised the word ‘dismissed' wasn't just final—it was a warnining.
So, when Matilda opened her mouth again, knowing she was about to ignore the warning, I immediately panicked. I caught her eye, pleading with every ounce of restraint I had: "Don't. Please don't."
Dying in here might just be temporary. But I had no desire to watch my best friend be beheaded, even if it was just an avatar.
Luckily, Matilda spotted me before she did something she'd later regret. Like everyone else here, we'd seen the consequences of crossing the cultivators, and the fear of that cold, pixelated death still lingered in both our minds.
"Lilac," Matilda said, locking eyes with me. "Don't worry—I will catch up with you soon. And Percival?" She glared at our new friend. "If anything happens to her, I'll gut you. I swear on my life."
With those embarrassing words reverberating through the area for everyone to hear, Matilda finally removed herself from the platform.
I tried to follow her with my eyes, but her fiery red hair quickly disappeared in the sea of spectators.
"I'm sorry Tilda..." I sighed in my heart.
“Congrats,” Percival whispered as I joined him on the stage.
“Thanks," I muttered back, unsure if I'd deserved it or not. What I did know was that I would have preferred it if Matilda had passed the evaluation as well.
“Next!”
Unconsciously, my eyes wandered to the next pair of attendees.
As he stepped up the stairs, Percival’s young-looking friend Raven advanced with his head held up high. Although he'd claimed yesterday that he'd tried to make his character look roguish, both Matilda and I agreed that he just looked cute instead.
Yet, with each step, Raven’s confidence visibly faltered. As a result, his brave smile froze and his face turned increasingly paler. When he finally reached Xiang, Raven looked like he'd seen a ghost.
“That's what I must've looked like.” I winced at the fresh memory, glad that the worst of it was over.
“Look, it's the meditator.” Percival whispered, gesturing at the second attendee standing next to Raven.
He was a surprisingly ordinary-looking player, with dark brown hair and pale blue eyes. If not for his basic starter attire, he could've passed for an NPC.
But I remembered him. He was the one who'd spent nearly half the night meditating like it was some kind of sacred ritual—completely absorbed in the task.
Initially, he'd gone unnoticed, hidden away at the far end of the platform—out of sight. Neither Percival's party nor Matilda and I had spotted him—at least not until Raven began wandering around, exploring.
Other than the sheathed sword at his side, the player hadn't made much of an impression, to be honest. In Cultivation Online, finding someone pretending to meditate wasn't exactly rare.
That changed when we later realised he'd remained in uninterrupted meditation for five hours straight.
Some insisted he'd probably nodded off mid-meditation. Honestly, if Percival hadn't reined them in, I was pretty sure at least one of his party members would've tried to steal the sword from the poor guy.
But it turned out, he hadn't been asleep after all.
When the meditator had finally stirred, he'd worn the self-satisfied expression of someone who'd just accomplished something he'd set out to. Needless to say, it struck us as very surprising.
Generally speaking, no one looked pleased after trying and failing to cultivate—especially after failing for five hours straight.
The way we saw it, he was either a genius who'd managed to invent his own cultivation method... or a complete masochist.
Frankly, both made him someone to keep an eye on.
Unfortunately, he'd slipped away before any of us had the chance to ask what, exactly, he'd been doing.
“Bishop, fifteen.” He announced, revealing his character's name and age. Unlike Raven, who looked ready to bolt, Bishop remained perfectly composed in face of the two cultivators.
His confidence stood in stark contrast to his youthful appearance.
But as the leader cultivator revealed his evaluation, it turned out it wasn't all false bravado.
“Fourteen-star talent. Water and… sword.” The sociopath growled, the hint of envy unmistakable in his voice.
"Same affinity as me..." I mused, observing the blue-eyed boy as he made his way toward Percival and me.
He was the first to receive a fourteen-star talent rating—but with the assessments barely underway, the true significance of that number hadn't yet sunk in.
…
Bishop's point of view
As it turned out, travelling alone had its perks. For one, I didn't have to match my pace to a slow-moving carriage—a welcome change, considering how much I enjoyed walking briskly. I could also take breaks whenever I wanted, and I didn't have to feed horses or set up camp.
Best of all, now that I was on my own time, I could finally stop and soak in just how stunning this virtual world really was.
Honestly, the level of detail the developers had managed to squeeze into every leaf and shadow was downright absurd—in the best way possible, of course.
For example, not even an hour after I departed from Durnatel, a green squirrel with two fluffy tails had zipped up a treet trunk like something out of a children's book. Even the beetles, which I'd dismissed as visual filler yesterday, now caught my attention.
One had a set of delicate horns that resembled a tiny crown—otherworldly and oddly regal-looking.
Time and time again, I found myself awestruck by the sheer engineering marvel that was Cultivation Online. Setting aside the eerily life-like NPCs, even the insects displayed unpredictable, dynamic behaviour. How the developers had achieved this level of complexity was utterly beyond me—it might as well have been magic.
But naturally, I wasn’t the only person on the road heading toward the… uh...
“What was it again…” I frowned, trying to remember the name of the dynasty that Cultivator Zhou Qing had mentioned. "Omawa? Omoi?"
Whatever, I was sure it was the Omo-something Dynasty, but the rest just wasn't coming to me for some reason.
Other than myself, nearly everyone I passed on the road was an NPC. You didn't need glowing names to spot the difference—they wore proper clothes, not the muddy tunics and coarse brown pants that practically screamed "Level 1 player."
Also, unlike us, they weren't all stuck looking like awkward teens.
But even out here—well beyond the illusion of safety provided by city and town walls—there were players scurrying around. Always in a rush somewhere, always chasing a goal of some kind.
Most players I passed were armed with crude spears, likely cobbled together from whatever forage material they could scavenge. Occasionally, I spotted someone wielding a chipped axe or a flimsy sword, but so far, I hadn't encountered a single player with a blade as fine as mine.
That fact gave me a quiet sense of pride.
“I really did luck out with that overconfident Huan fellow.” I smiled to myself, caressing the hilt of my beautiful sword, hidden in its sheath.
If I was being honest, my sword was probably nothing to write home about. It had decent balance, a sharp edge, and the kind of utilitarian craftsmanship you'd expect from any village blacksmith. But in my eyes, it was more than just a simple piece of steel.
It was more than a tool—it was symbol and a companion.
It might sound foolish, but this sword reminded me oddly of my childhood. Of the polished wood floors of the dojo, the sting of bruised knuckles, and the firm grip of a shinai in my hands.
Kendo had been one of the few constants in my life back then—a practice that taught me how to breathe, how to stand after getting knocked down, and how to push through hardship.
And now, a lifetime later, in this new digital world, I was holding a sword once more. It felt like I was reconnecting with a younger version of myself—one that still believed in discipline, strength, and self-mastery. One that hadn't been marred of a lifetime of disappointment and regret.
No, this wasn't just a blade. It was a memory made real, a fragment of a childhood I'd neglected and forgotten about.
As these thoughts settled and took root within me, a faint tingling spread through my limbs. But when no system prompt appeared, I had to manually open my cultivation status to ee if anything had changed.
[Cultivation Status (Rank 1)]
[Name: Bishop]
[Age: 15]
[Cultivation Aptitude: 14 ★]
[Affinities: Sword, Water]
[Affiliation: White Tiger Sect (Rank 4)]
[Rank: Provisional Outer Disciple]
[Cultivation Stage: Mortal]
[Qi: N/A]
[Proficiencies]
[Swordsmanship - Beginner Lv. 5]
[Meditation - Beginner Lv. 1]
At first glance, my status seemed unchanged. But on my second read-through, I noticed a subtle shift.
"My affinities have switched places..." I murmured. Before the tingling, I could've sword water had been listed first.
No, I knew it had been.
“Is it an error?” I wondered, before quickly dismissing the thought. A company capable of creating a world this sophisticated wouldn't make such a careless mistake. No—this wasn't a glitch.
“Then…” I frowned, deep in thought. “Did my affinity increase?”
So far, I hadn't come across any information suggesting that it was possible. But then again, nothing had stated it was impossible either.
“But how?” I thought, a bit incredulous. I hadn't done anything unusual—just walked in a straight line. There'd been no combat, no cultivation, not even a swing of my sword to elicit such a change. All I'd done was...
Then it clicked.
“My thoughts!” My eyes widened as the realisation struck. “The game reacted to my thoughts!”
I paced mentally, cycling through every other possible explanation, trying to convince myself it was just a coincidence. But after minutes of turning it over, I had nothing.
No other theory held any water.
Suddenly, as I took in the breathtaking world around me, a cold shiver trickled down my spine.
"I need a break," I decided, and without giving myself time to overhtink it, I logged out—right there in the middle of the road.
...
Author's note: God. Rewriting this chapter hurt me physically. I don't know how anyone read the original chapter and thought it was any good. I'm more satisfied with it now, but I reckon it can still be improved.
Comments
Mattias Rydahl
isn't that the truth... ;-;
marconjecture
"...hurt my physically." 😂 We are our own worst critics.
