Pandora Unchained - a Cultivation Progression Fantasy

The air smelled of blood and smoke, not a surprise given that Sorin and his companions were currently digging through the smoking remains of the Chester Family farm. Black ashes and splintered wood were scattered across a snow-covered field trampled by tens of thousands of heavy footprints that same morning.

"This is too organized for a random attack," said Gareth as he pulled up a wooden board, revealing a smashed-up picture frame and a broken-down chair. "And far too intelligent for a two-star demon to pull off."

"I can't believe it's us who's digging through here instead of the local villagers," said Sorin, pushing a section of the wall away to reveal a mangled corpse. "This looks like it might be Mrs. Chester's corpse. With the kids, that makes five. Can someone give me a hand?"

"I think I'll hang back here," said Lawrence, shying away.

"I'll help you with that," said Gareth. "Stephan, can you lift that beam, pinning her legs down?"

"Not a problem," said Stephan. He walked up to the large piece of carved wood and hefted it up despite its immense weight while Sorin and Gareth retrieved the mostly intact corpse and brought it out next to the remains they'd discovered out on the blood-covered field.

"The cause of death is likely a combination of trauma from crush injuries and asphyxiation from smoke inhalation," said Sorin as he inspected her body with mana. "Instead of choosing to flee like Mr. Chester and the children, she remained in the house. The fire was probably her doing.

"In the end, the house collapsed before it could properly catch fire. The bruising on her body indicates that she was still alive when it came down to her. A terrible way to die, though not as terrible as what happened to her husband and her children."

Only an arm and half a torso remained of Mr. Chester. As for the children, both their legs and arms had been bitten off. It was clear that whoever did this meant to send a message. "Only a three-star demon would be intelligent enough," said Stephan, shaking his head. "Either that or a two-star humanoid demon. A myth."

He shook his head as he looked toward the cultivators standing well outside the farm. They were there to keep an eye on them but hadn't so much as lifted a finger to assist them in digging through the rubble. It was like, in their eyes, the Chesters deserved what happened to them and that indicating anything contrary to this would incur further disasters.

"Five demons and five humans," said Sorin. "A coincidence?"

"It's difficult to say," said Gareth. "But I agree with Stephan. This isn't something normal demons are capable of. Astley, do you have anything to add?"

"No," said Astley, doing her best to keep a straight face. "But perhaps we could discover clues if you'll allow me to summon their souls from the afterlife."

"Are you serious?" scolded Daphne. "After all the trouble you caused, you're going to further desecrate their bodies?"

"It's not desecration when the only gods that ever opposed such a practice are long dead," countered Astley. "Further, they're already dead, while five hundred or so villagers still live. Even assuming summoning their souls would be a great disservice to them, I argue that protecting the living comes first and foremost."

"You're not seriously considering this, are you, Stephan?" asked Daphne.

"Honestly? Yes," said Stephan. "But it's Gareth's call to make."

The archer looked long and hard at the corpses before turning to Astley and nodding. "Do you need anything from us or the village?"

"No," said Astley. "I carry everything needed in my hero medallion."

Astley proceeded to unpack a small altar that appeared to be a miniature version of the ones found in temples to Hope. She proceeded to light three candles on the altar before talking up to the mangled corpses and placing coins on their eyes, or in the case of Mr. Chester, where his eyes would have been.

She then took out a rune-covered knife and slashed the air in four directions before calling out in a steady and authoritative voice:

"I!

"Summon in my name!

"A spirit recently deceased.

"A disincarnate soul forever trapped in the river of the dead.

"The remnant consciousness of Frederick Samuel Chester!"

A strange magical signature rippled out from the ritual circle, where mana crystals had been laid out. A wind brushed past the crystals and reduced them to dust.

Then, as silent as the wind had been, a spiritual fluctuation reeking of death and decay emerged from the air behind the altar. It bore an image that might have resembled the corpse on the ground had it not been so badly mangled.

"You called, summoner?" said the spirit in an eerie voice.

"I have questions to ask," said Astley.

"And I shall answer," replied the spirit in turn.

"What happened here before the demons attacked?" asked Astley. "What happened during the attack?"

The spirit looked from her to the five corpses on the ground before answering. "We were preparing for the Winter Vigil by roasting chestnuts that were to be offered to the Dark Lady. It is a meager offering, but it is the only thing we have to offer.

"Then demons came. They attacked us. My wife grew frantic while I led the children out into the pasture. Better a quick death at the claws and teeth of those demons rather than a death by burning or trampling."

"Did you expect the attack?" asked Aster.

"Of course I did," answered the spirit. "There whispers on the wind of a grave offense. Someone had to pay the price, and in the end, it is we who were chosen."

"Who chose you?" Astley asked the spirit. "A human, a demon, or something else?" The spirit merely looked at her for a free seconds before fading out of existence.

"What happened?" asked Gareth.

"The spirit suddenly turned uncooperative," said Astley. "Normally, they have no agency in the afterlife. Regardless of their motives, they should answer questions when asked. But in this case, there seems to be a strange energy interfering with the essence of the ritual."

"That's what happens when you rely on poorly understood witchcraft," said Daphne.

"Then why don't you come down and help me?" asked Astley. "Oh wait, you're too good for that, aren't you? A pity. A mage lending a hand would reinforce the ritual and improve the quality of any answers we get. After all, a soul can only be summoned once."

Daphne's eye twitched. "Fine. I'll play along. But no changing any of the words in the ritual, save their names and ours, or any of the actions. We'll pay the same price and burn the same candles."

"Agreed," said Astley. "Is that acceptable, Stephan?"

"If Daphne wants to contribute, then by all means," said Stephan. "Would Sorin be of assistance?"

"Not a chance," answered Sorin. "I have no idea what's going on here. I also have the distinct feeling that my participation might result in adverse effects." He was naturally referring to the corruption in his blood and mana.

A few minutes later, it was Mrs. Chester who was summoned. "What happened here before the demons attacked?" asked Astley.

"We were preparing for the winter vigil," said Mrs. Chester. "We were roasting chestnuts for our offering as we do every year."

"Was there anything different about your preparations this year?" asked Daphne before Astley could continue. The spirit frowned before shaking her head. "There was nothing different this year compared to previous years. We have no regrets. Our souls will return to the night's embrace."

Then, as Mr. Chester's spirit had, her spirit faded. "Interference again?" asked Gareth.

"Indeed," said Astley. "Moreover, I feel like these answers were forced instead of natural. As though the spirits expected to be questioned. That is not normal behavior." She hesitated. "I think… I think we'll need to ask the children. Though the odds of succeeding are much lower, as human spirituality doesn't solidify until 13 years of age."

"Statistically, we're likely to succeed on one of them," said Daphne.

Astley raised an eyebrow. "I'm surprised you know so much about the ritual."

"Not approving and not understanding it as a whole doesn’t mean I'm not well-read," answered Daphne. "I think it's worth a try."

"We've got nothing to lose," said Stephan. "Though I suggest you hurry. One of the cultivators watching us went to report back in town. I expect company any minute now."

"Then we'll make it quick," said Astley.

"We!

"Summon in our name!

"A spirit recently deceased.

"A disincarnate soul forever trapped in the river of the dead.

"The remnant consciousness of Ashley Agnes Chester!"

There was no response from the altar, so they moved on to the second body.

"We!

"Summon in our name!

"A spirit recently deceased.

"A disincarnate soul forever trapped in the river of the dead.

"The remnant consciousness of Christopher Farley Chester!"

This time, there was a faint response from the altar, but the wind never came, and the ritual didn't consume the crystals.

Astley and Daphne spoke a third time.

"We!

"Summon in our name!

"A spirit recently deceased.

"A disincarnate soul forever trapped in the river of the dead.

"The remnant consciousness of Corey Abraham Chester!"

This time, the offering was accepted. A silent wind took away the mana crystal offering and blew out the three candles before bringing forth a small boy no older than eight years old. "

"You called, summoner?" said the small spirit in a muffled voice. It was clear that this spirit didn't have as much energy and could wink out at any moment.

"I have questions to ask," said Astley.

"And I shall answer," replied the spirit.

"What happened here before the demons attacked?" asked Astley.

"We were roasting chestnuts as our offering for the Winter Vigil," said the boy like his parents before. "But my parents didn't seem to care about the offerings. It was strange."

Astley raised an eyebrow. "Did any other strange things happen that morning?"

"We started earlier than we usually do," answered the boy. "My parents never said why. But maybe it had something to do with the man who visited?"

"Hurry," said Stephan. "Someone's coming!"

"Who was the man?" asked Astley. "Do you know him?"

"I don't know his name," said the boy. "I don't talk to him often, but my parents do. He always wears a cloak and is all mysterious. I thought it was odd that he was visiting and that we didn't even eat breakfast. We had to roast chestnuts for the Winter Vigil, my parents said. So that's what we did.

"Oh, and he said something about —"

Unfortunately, the boy was unable to continue as two powerful cultivators arrived on the scene. One was Mayor Underwood, whom they'd seen the night before, and the other was Guild Master Fergusson from the Adventurers Guild.

"You dare perform witchcraft following this horrendous tragedy?" the mayor exclaimed. "After all the trouble you caused us?!"

"Pipe down, will you?" said Guild Master Fergusson. "I'm not used to so much screaming, much less before I've had my afternoon drink."

"Drink!? Our town is on the verge of getting destroyed, and all you can think of is drinking?!" said the hysterical mayor.

"Urgh," said Guild Master Fergusson. "Anyway, I heard there was a disturbance. What exactly were you guys doing?"

"Obtaining answers as to what exactly happened here," said Gareth coldly. "A process that you rudely interrupted."

"You—what?" said Guild Master Fergusson. "Honestly, I don't really care what you're doing. I just came because the mayor forced me. Something about supporting him."

"And what exactly did you come here for, Mayor Underwood?" asked Gareth. "I'm sure you're well aware that interfering in a Nighthawk investigation is a grave crime."

"It's you lot who've committed a grave crime," said Mayor Underwood. "Not only did you come here and upset the balance, but you've also even despoiled the site of retaliation. Now, there's no telling what the demons will do.

"Is that all?" asked Gareth.

"I've just come to say that while I can't prevent you from carrying out your investigation, your actions leave me no choice but to place an official complaint through the Adventurers Guild. Moreover, I've spoken to many of the townsfolk. They do not appreciate what you're doing and have unanimously decided to refuse your service."

Gareth's eyes narrowed. "Do you know the consequences of what you're saying?"

"What consequences?" said Mayor Underwood. "I'm simply passing along the message. We'll naturally cooperate with your investigation and answer any questions you might have, but that doesn't mean we need to feed you or provide you with housing.

"If you want to stay, then stay. You're, of course, welcome within Chelsea's walls, but please note that loitering in the streets after sunset is strictly prohibited. Good day to you, and I wish you luck in your investigation."

Looking guilty about the entire affair, Guild Master Fergusson retreated to the city with the mayor. Lawrence made a few snide comments, and their group started arguing. But Sorin heard none of that because the Violence in his blood was acting up again, and this time, he had no outlet.

Moreover, the outburst this time was accompanied by a creaking in his bones, along with a distinct feeling that his bones had lost a bit of their integrity. A crack had appeared on a rune, but instead of the empowering feeling that usually accompanied this sort of cracking, the crack felt dead and absent of energy.

"Are you alright, Sorin?" Gareth asked, rousing Sorin from his state of hypercontraction.

"I'm fine," said Sorin, unclenching his fists. "I just lost my temper, that's all. The deaths, the mayor… it's very difficult to process."

Gareth nodded slowly. "I just wanted to let you know that if you wanted to talk, I'm there for you. We're all there for you. It's not good to keep these feelings bottled in. Especially not during the winter."

Sorin soon confirmed his worst fears. The rot in his bones had progressed faster than expected, and the year-long deadline given himself to treat his condition had now shrunk down to just over eleven months.

Moreover, it seemed that his corruption and the bone rot were somehow connected. Diagnosing the specifics of his condition had just become infinitely more complicated.