NOVEL WEB 25 Poisoned Veins
[Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.] - Haruki Murakami
"Wait, what do you mean by training us?" Mahtias asked.
"Exactly what I said," Azar replied. "I will provide you with techniques, teach you about combat strategies, train your bodies and minds, and help you get better at controlling the flux. All of it. Most of your warriors are at the first Class, Mit'chalel, even after they have passed the age of thirty."
"They have poor talent," Garul said.
"Talent? This has nothing to do with talent," Azar explained. "This is due to a lack of preparation and understanding. Your cultivation methods, your energetic channels, your lifestyles—I can improve them all. Even you, elders, with your cultivation at the Bellator Class, are weaker than the average cultivators in the kingdoms. Do you know why? Because they have more knowledge than you, not because they train harder than you."
Hearing his words, the elders exchanged glances. If what he said was true, then their tribe could be reborn, achieving the heights that had been mere dreams for so long.
"The decision rests on your shoulders. You can send someone to inspect the ground that I'll prepare for you, or you can do what you want. We'll speak again when you're more inclined to take real action instead of thinking about all the possibilities in the world," Azar finished, motioning for Araumir to take him out.
"Syed, please wait," Devash said, positioning herself before Azar.
"What?" Azar asked, showing his displeasure.
"The elder who died had a strange object in his hand. We were unable to identify it. If you could enlighten us, we would be grateful."
"Yes, we won't doubt you any longer," Mahtias added.
That wasn't the truth as they only wanted to confirm Azar knowledge about the kingdoms and that the strange object was indeed a weapon.
Azar shook his head. "Where is this mysterious object?"
"We believe it to be dangerous, so we have taken it outside," Garul said, leading the way.
Azar was led outside the tent and presented with a round, brown ball, the size of a child's fist. Without even touching it, just having a closer look at it, Azar managed to understand what the object was and started laughing.
Carefully picking up the ball, he said, "Araumir, squeeze this gently and throw it into the sky. Not too close and not too far."
Araumir, remaining silent, nodded. Receiving the object, he squeezed it in his palm until he felt the mechanism trigger and threw it into the sky outside the settlement. After reaching a safe distance, the ball exploded, creating a cloud of sparkling energy.
Startled, the three elders watched the sky where the explosion took place. Azar looked at them with a bright smile before paying attention to the commotion that started among the tribesmen.
"Your mysterious object was a bomb made of flux. If that thing detonated inside a tent, not even you would survive. Judging by the amount of energy in it, it was designed to kill Bellator Class flux-weavers, so you can call yourselves lucky," Azar said. "Have a nice day."
Without waiting for a response, he and Araumir submerged into the shadow world, letting the elders deal with the aftermath of the explosion and calm their people.
"Where now, Master?" Araumir asked after they emerged back in the real world, a considerable distance away from the Sarabi settlement.
"Now we return to Mirha," Azar replied.
. . .
Araumir and Azar descended from the sky, their forms silhouetted against the setting sun as they approached the Mirha tribe’s encampment. The golden sands of the desert stretched out in the distance. The land, dotted with clusters of houses and the occasional grazing herd. As they drew nearer, the sound of the bustling tribe grew louder, a clue to the life and energy within.
The first to notice their arrival was a group of children playing near the outskirts of the camp. Their eyes widened in awe as they watched the two figures land gracefully, their feet barely disturbing the dust. One of the boys, unable to contain his excitement, ran towards the center of the camp, shouting,
"They're back! They're back!"
People began to gather, drawn by the commotion and the sight of Araumir and Azar. Whispers spread like wildfire, and soon the entire tribe had come to see what was happening. Faces lit up with expressions of surprise and relief as they recognized Araumir, their trusted protector, and Azar, the mysterious figure whose presence had sparked both hope and curiosity.
Khaleb and Kaira pushed through the crowd, their eyes scanning the scene until they locked onto Araumir and Azar.
"Araumir Syed! Azar Syed!" Kaira called out, her voice filled with a mixture of joy and urgency.
Araumir smiled warmly, raising a hand in greeting. "We have returned," he announced, his voice carrying over the murmurs of the crowd.
Azar stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the assembled tribe. He could see the mix of emotions in their eyes—hope, fear, curiosity, and respect.
"It is good to see you all again," he said, his tone calm and reassuring. "We have much to share with you."
Looks like everyone knows about us by now, Azar thought.
Before they could say more, an elder of the tribe, a woman with silver-streaked hair and wise eyes, stepped forward.
"Araumir Syed, Azar Syed, welcome back," she said, her voice steady but tinged with concern. "We are grateful for your safe return. But there is a matter of great urgency."
"Didn't you say you'd leave? Why are you still here?" Kaira asked angrily after she approached. Tears filled her eyes, and Azar found it impossible to tell her emotions apart.
"Kaira!" Khaleb called. "Forgive my sister, she is in pain because of our father."
"Your father?" Araumir was the first to ask.
Khaleb nodded, his expression turning grim. "It's our father, Mohul. He has been poisoned. We don't know how much longer he has."
The crowd fell silent, hearing again about the condition of their beloved chief pressed heavy on their chests. Azar's eyes narrowed, and he exchanged a quick glance with Araumir.
"I owe you an apology," Azar said heavily, even bowing his head toward Kaira who struggled in reprimanding or asking for help. "Take us to him," he said to Khaleb, his voice firm.
They were led through the camp, past curious onlookers and worried family members, to a heavily defended house near the center. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of medicinal herbs and the soft glow of oil lamps. Mohul lay on a bed of woven mats, his skin pale and clammy, his breathing shallow.
A healer knelt beside him, applying a poultice to his chest. He looked up as they entered, his sorrow-filled eyes remaining a few seconds on Azar and Araumir's figures. Apparently, everyone had found out who they were and what they did.
"The poison is unlike any I've seen," the healer said softly. "It saps his strength and darkens his blood. I've tried everything I know, but nothing seems to help."
Azar stepped closer, his expression unreadable as he assessed Mohul's condition. He reached out, placing a hand on Mohul's forehead, closing his eyes to concentrate. Azar infused part of his awareness inside Mohul's body, roaming through his veins, observing his meridians. After a few moments, he opened his eyes again, a tear dropping on his face.
"Saru la na Evoni Venar," (This is the Ebony Venom) Azar said to no one in particular.
"Larek, za saru la?" (Impossible, how can it be?) Araumir replied, alerted. "Za saru davros ner dosh rek velaryn do Tora varen?" (How did this thing survive for two thousand years when Tora couldn't?)
"Hey, this is my father! Don’t speak in foreign languages I can’t understand," Kaira retorted angrily.
Azar gazed at her for a moment before asking, "How long has he been like this?"
"This is the second day," Khaleb replied.
"Is it not the Ebony Venom?" Azar asked himself.
"What are you talking about?" Kaira questioned.
"Don't disturb him." Araumir placed a hand on her shoulder.
"I want a blood sample from him," Azar ordered the healer. "White sand and Verirical essence, if you have any."
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," the healer said.
Azar clenched his jaw, approaching the healer and grabbing his robe. Afraid, the man was ready to be hit, but Azar remained staring deep into his eyes. After a few moments, Azar staggered back. Losing his sense of balance, he found support in the nearest person, Khaleb.
"Are you alright?" Khaleb asked, but Azar remained silent, thinking.
Ignoring the boy’s question, Azar shook his head to clear his blurry vision before ordering the healer.
"Starshade Moss, Sandfire Root, Twilight Fern, Scorpion Bloom Seeds," Azar said. "Combine them as I tell you: pour the Starshade Moss infusion as the base liquid. Bring the infusion to a gentle simmer over a low flame. Slowly add the Sandfire Root paste to the simmering infusion, stirring continuously. Are you following?"
"Yes." The healer nodded.
"Allow the mixture to blend thoroughly for five to ten minutes, ensuring no lumps remain. Pour in the Twilight Fern extract, stirring gently to combine. Sprinkle the Scorpion Bloom seed powder into the cauldron, a pinch at a time, stirring continuously. Continue to stir for another ten minutes, ensuring the powder is fully dissolved and evenly distributed. Understood?"
"Yes."
"Then go! Serve it hot."
Receiving his orders, the healer left the room in a hurry.
"Can you save him?" Kaira asked Azar, her voice trembling.
"I don’t know," Azar replied. "This has to be a synthesized version of the Ebony Venom. If it was the real thing, your father wouldn’t have resisted for half a day."
"Then if you know what it is, why can’t you treat it?" Khaleb retorted.
"Because you don’t have the required ingredients," Azar answered. "I have to think about solutions. I need an empty and quiet room to meditate."
"Come with me," Khaleb said, leading the way.
"Araumir, remain here and use your flux to clear the one circulating inside Mohul. I think only you won’t be affected by it," Azar instructed before following Khaleb out.
Remaining alone in the confines of the room, defended against outside noises and perturbations, Azar caressed his ring before taking out the Wish Coin dropped by the Void Storm. Without enough knowledge and with limited resources, there was only one thing he could do.
There was only one thing he could exchange the coin for. Something that could help him both now and in the future. Something invaluable that only a few knew about—the technique required to astral project his consciousness. Of course, with training, he could be able to learn it again by himself. However, time wasn’t his ally this time, and Azar needed to act and think fast.
Normally, the simple projection of one's consciousness inside the ethereal world couldn't help with this situation. But if one already knows how to navigate that world and gain access to the Origin Library, the story changes, Azar thought as he made a wish and tossed the coin in the air.
After spinning a few times in the air, the coin brightened with a golden light and disappeared. In its place, an ability card dropped into Azar's palm, and a notification rang inside his head.
[Congratulations! You have successfully exchanged the Wish Coin for the Astral Projection Technique]
Astral Projection
Description: The Astral Projection Technique is a rare and powerful ability that allows the user to separate their astral form from their physical body. This technique enables the practitioner to traverse the ethereal plane, gaining unparalleled insight and awareness. While in astral form, the user can explore distant locations, observe events undetected, and interact with other entities on the astral plane. However, the physical body remains vulnerable and must be protected during the projection.
Without wasting another moment, Azar inserted his awareness into the ability card to learn the technique. After a little less than ten minutes, when the technique was fully integrated into his mind, Azar lay down on the floor facing the ceiling.
He took three consecutive, deep, diaphragmatic breaths to relax his body before continuing to consciously relax every muscle of his being. To astral project, he had to slowly sever the deep connection between his astral form and physical body. Process that could be easily stopped by external stimulus.