Vescrutia: Legacy

Recruits were given a three days respite to heal from their injuries following the initial day of training, but General Roux returned to the military arena nearly twelve hours before anyone was expected to arrive. He had a reputation of a hard worker, one that took time and diligence to perpetuate throughout the minds of his peers and superiors. He was an older warrior, several hundred years old with a frock of silver feathers hidden beneath his flexible armor. But beneath the guild of his age, General Roux's body and physical stature stood as the paradigm to his extensive work ethic. A living monument and reminder to the fruits of his labor.

But aside from his physical ability, General Roux's true power stemmed from the same well that every elite warrior of the Empire had been trained to draw from. Shinjutsu, an ancient discipline founded by the Elders of the Mazoku Tribe and rooted in the profound understanding and manipulation of the fundamental energies that permeate creation. At its core, it is a philosophy that encompasses both spiritual enlightenment and practical application, teaching its practitioners to harmonize their inner energies with the cosmic forces that govern existence. Through meditation, rigorous training, and the study of arcane texts and rituals, adherents of Shinjutsu can attune themselves to the ebb and flow of the universe, harnessing its power to achieve a state of transcendent consciousness and profound insight.

It was this practice that skyrocketed the Mazoku Tribe to the heights of immortality for thousands of years. And it was through sharing their arcane teachings to those who pledged allegiance to Akundae, did they introduce new epochs of prosperity. General Roux was not born when the Emperor unified all of B'halia behind the might of Shinjutsu, but he was more than knowledgeable about the weight of tradition. He himself was an artesian of the craft. Skilled enough in fact to be considered a master and mentor to hundreds of B'halia's currently serving sentinels. Delion included.

“..hmm.” The morning breeze fluttered against his feathers as he sat at the center of the arena. There were no weapons racks or obstacle courses surrounding him. Instead, there were simply two vials that sat next to him, both containing a fruit native only to B'halian soil.

And unlike before, the terrain of the arena was far more organic. The sandy floor was replaced with a verdant bed of grass beneath him. Trees that were artificially grown by the Dryad Fae stood tall enough to cast a pleasant shade upon the field. It was nearly noon now, and General Roux had completely centered his mind. He was so attuned to the natural ebb and flow of energy within the area, he could literally feel Qalen's heartbeat as he passed through the gates of the arena.

“Ahh, very good. Punctuality is a sign of respect. And a proper quality for a leader of men.” The General said with a nod, gesturing to the 7’0 foot warrior to join him at the center of the arena. Qalen was initially taken aback by the drastic change to the arena's terrain. This did not look like somewhere to train or condition his body.

Qalen felt as if he wandered through a portal, leading from the military base to B'halian jungle. Qalen's eyes were skeptical, but he acquiesced to the General's call. “I am.. confused.” He admitted sheepishly as he settled at the center of the arena in front of General Roux. “I was under the impression we were going to be training, General.” Qalen said, folding his arms as his gaze continued to survey the area. “Forgive me.. but this doesn't look like any battlefield I've ever been on.” His tone was trained as to not convey disrespect, but his gaze begged for clarity. He couldn't help but feel as if he were being coddled with some menial lesson instead of training to condition their bodies for war. Was this punishment because he and Kilik couldn't properly declare a leader among them? Qalen's mind was wrought with doubt, but he was learning to temper.. well, his temper. But the General didn't entertain his unease. Not directly.

“Calm yourself.” He responded curtly, opening his eyes from his meditative trance. “..and center your mind. Do this until your partner arrives.” The General's words only festered Qalen's angst and furrow his brow. His nosed fumed with frustration like a hot kettle, but he did his best to remain as respectful as he'd been raised. He closed his eyes and began to focus. The General understood the young Joro's anxieties but this was simply a testament to how well kept the clandestine practice of Shinjutsu truly was. Ignorance breeds contempt, but this was a secret worth waiting for.

“Calm yourself.” He responded curtly, opening his eyes from his meditative trance. “..and center your mind. Do this until your partner arrives.” The General's words only festered Qalen's angst and furrow his brow.

He would not have long to wait for she entered but a few moment after. She was hesitant, not for the same reason as her partner. It was well the soil. Kilik was still getting used to the prickly feeling of grass beneath her scaled feet. The land was write with all kinds of irritating terrain. Stone roads, grassy fields, land travel just seemed like so much of a hassle.

She did enjoy flying though, the air ship was actually enjoyable.

And unlike before, the terrain of the arena was far more organic. The sandy floor was replaced with a verdant bed of grass beneath him. Trees that were artificially grown by the Dryad Fae stood tall enough to cast a pleasant shade upon the field. It was nearly noon now, and General Roux had completely centered his mind. He was so attuned to the natural ebb and flow of energy within the area, he could literally feel Qalen's heartbeat as he passed through the gates of the arena.

However she could admit this was much more to her liking than the barren wasteland they trained in but days before. The day her power consumed her.

”For Orvyn to awaken means that more of her power is awakening within me…but if I do not learn to control the made dragons might…her waves might next consume me also”

She was slow to admit it she was in fact quite embarrassed by her lack of control. It was…humbling and reminded her of what brought her here in the first place.

Power

But not just power

The ability to control that power.

Disorder is born when power is left unchecked when caution is thrown to the wind and emotions take control. The lives that fell to her outburst. One the battle fuel she could be a danger to even those on her side. Kilik needed to lower her ego and harden her resolve. She wasn’t here to prove herself to anyone… anyone but herself.

That her will was and is greater than that of even a dragon.

Still when she watched the play back of her last attack. She had to admit even she herself was impressed by the vastness of the well that was her power, she desired nothing more to harness it. She must.

“B’halian technology truly is a league of its own.”

She said as she entered. She could feel Qalen’s anxiousness behind his stalwart form. It was cute to know even a mountain could tremble even if in anticipation. She nodded his way as she took a place not far from him. She was unsure of what his feelings towards her were considering how their match ended. Neither had seen nor talked to the other since that day. Though she herself held no grudges she knew now Jo’ro mean to be rather stubborn.

“General”

She bowed slightly showing due respect. The feeling she got from General Roux was something she had never experienced in any kind of mortal before.

“!!!”

It was almost like he was comely and totally in tune with himself. His emotional state was so solid she felt if he lied to her even looking her in the face she could not tell whether he actually lied or not. The amount of control and sense of self he must possess immediately polarized him to her. This was it, that very state whatever it mate be. That was the state she desired to reach.

It was almost like he was comely and totally in tune with himself. His emotional state was so solid she felt if he lied to her even looking her in the face she could not tell whether he actually lied or not. The amount of control and sense of self he must possess immediately polarized him to her.

General Roux was statuesque. He barely moved to acknowledge Kilik as she made her entrance– his eyes were comfortably shut as he focused his breathing, yet he still nodded his head in response. “Take a seat, recruit." He said calmly, gesturing for Kilik to join Qalen who sat directly opposite of him. The young J'oro elf was in a meditative position that mirrored the General's; legs folded inward, hands resting on his knees, with his eyes firmly shut. He was asked to find his “center” A seemingly straightforward task, yet he looked increasingly perturbed by the moment. He was struggling to find the purpose behind this training exercise, but he swallowed his skepticism out of respect to the General. He trusted his methods. Though bizarre they may be, they were tried and true by the Empire's finest. Thousands of men and women would attest to Roux's competency as a leader, warrior, and mentor. So Qalen simply tried harder to commit himself to the task.

“I trust your wounds have healed. As well as your pride and will as a warrior.” The General said casually, referencing the moment of weakness Kilik exhibited during her bout with Qalen. Despite being several thousand feet in the air, the General watched it all. And from what he could infer, Kilik was an excellent warrior for someone not born upon B'halian soil.. Swordsmanship aside, the foreign submariner possessed a versatile array of skills that could have bested experienced sorcerers, but despite her daunting power and potential, General Roux found her lack of restraint unacceptable. He was unsure of the nuances, but he could sense a stirring within her that day– an inner turmoil darker than the deepest, blackest void.

“You chose not to kill Qalen.. You chose to withhold your full strength, despite his clear weakness. Why?” The General asked plainly, not shifting an inch from his meditative position as he opened his eyes; a pair of still, blue ovals that searched Kilik's face for the answers hidden beneath her words. Qalen was visibly nonplussed by these words, but instead of responding he remained silent.

General Roux was statuesque. He barely moved to acknowledge Kilik as she made her entrance– his eyes were comfortably shut as he focused his breathing, yet he still nodded his head in response. “Take a seat, recruit." He said calmly, gesturing for Kilik to join Qalen who sat directly opposite of him.

She did so without hesitation. Just being here were even the air was tingling with energy washed over her like an eerier calm. While her decent onto The Empire did show her the beauty of B’halia she never imagined, well, this.

It wasn’t as humid as the dry terrain they had been doing battle on since she got here. It was moist like a forest after a fresh rain. It was comforting to touch wet leaves reminding her so much of home.

“I trust your wounds have healed. As well as your pride and will as a warrior.” The General said casually, referencing the moment of weakness Kilik exhibited during her bout with Qalen.

“My pride?”

The feeling of that moment still haunted her. The usurping of her domino over her magic, her body all bowed before Orvyn’s behest. The fear within Kilik as she watched her power slaughter unintended targets laid trapped beneath her rib cage like pressure. Powerless to stop her as the Wavebringer brought the oceans indignation upon them all. Yes, the fear that came with knowing that as she was no…she was but a slave to her Patrón.

“I would be lyin if I said they have, sir”

“You chose not to kill Qalen.. You chose to withhold your full strength, despite his clear weakness. Why?” The General asked plainly, not shifting an inch from his meditative position as he opened his eyes; a pair of still, blue ovals that searched Kilik's face for the answers hidden beneath her words. Qalen was visibly nonplussed by these words, but instead of responding he remained silent.”

“I…”

At first she went to give him a generic answer. Something that would convey a casual indeference or perhaps some snarky dismissal of how she didn’t feel Qalen was worth the effort.

But that would all be a lie. Sitting next to him his aura demanded the truth from her as if every fiber of her being was under scope. No, if she truly wished to grow she needed to first be honest with herself.

“ I fear my power. I loathe my lack of control. When tapping into the deeper wells of my magic I feel like a single entity in an ocean ones whose depths I cannot see. Like I’m standing above an abysss of vengeance that could swallow me whole at any moment…”

Her eyes held a irritable angst. But it was true and the entire reason she joined the empire. When her inability to tame her magic nearly took her father life. She knew the road would not be easy but she never imagined after all her time training that she had made no progress in taming the dragon within her.

“ I fear my power. I loathe my lack of control. When tapping into the deeper wells of my magic I feel like a single entity in an ocean ones whose depths I cannot see. Like I’m standing above an abysss of vengeance that could swallow me whole at any moment…”

The General fell silent, allowing Kilik's words to rest along the air in reverence. What she shared with him was obviously a personal burden she'd been struggling with long before her departure to B'halia. The General only saw glimpses during her exhibition matches, but hearing it spoken from her brought the necessary clarity he needed to proceed. She spoke of her hidden potential as if it were its own entity; a separate sentience that would either be an incredible hinderence.. or her greatest weapon. The answer to that would depend on both, Kilik's ambition.. and General Roux's compentence as a mentor.

"Agh!! Enough of this!!" Suddenly, Qalen erupted from his meditative position. He was beyond irate with trying to find his center. He was just sitting down with his eyes closed, concentrating on not losing his temper but to no avail. And listening to Kilik's convey her inner conflicts made the young Joro warrior feel more like he'd been attending some form of therapeutic session as opposed to honing his skills as a warrior. "General, I see no boon or benefit in any of this!" He exclaimed, stand with his arms crossed as he looked down on Kilik and the General. "Perhaps.. perhaps there is another mentor I can seek. One more accustomed to the traditional practices of the Joro Tribe." Qalen immediately wanted to bite off his tongue, but the words had already left his lips.

"..."

General Roux's silence nearly gutted Qalen of all his bravado. Blatant disrespect to a superior ranking officer was an offense punishable by a bevvy of different methods. Qalen had heard stories of unruly recruits being returned to their homes in coffins studded in B'halian banners. Today, he feared, he may learn the truth behind such grisly rumors. "..forgive me, General.. I forget myself." Promptly, Qalen apologized. He went so far as to return to his meditative pose on the ground without the General so much as having to open his beak to speak. The tension was enough to magnetize Qalen's gaze to the ground in shame.

"Kilik." The General uttered, his blue eyes resting on hers. "If the extent of your potential does not scare you, then you do not have enough of it. But do not allow fear to dissuade you from power. Your true power."

The General's gaze narrowed into sharpened tools. He was visualizing what it would take to draw out her promise; to disregard the barriers she surely placed on herself. It would be no easy task, but a satisfying one indeed. He then looked to Qalen, who seemed to have shrunk into a shell of himself following his cathartic outburst. General Roux was more than knowledgeable about the violent and impulsive predilections of the Joro Tribe. They drew strength from their rage and anger. Their connection with nature didn't directly correlate with their emotional state. It's no wonder it took so long for the Mazoku to properly Indoctrinate them into the Empire. It would've been idiotic to punish him for simply speaking his heart.

General Roux would have to win him over with stone cold proof. Something concrete. The General nodded his head and reached for the two glass jars sitting in front of him.

"Both of you. I want you to take these fruits, fill them with as much Naten as you can, and then eat them. "

"Agh!! Enough of this!!" Suddenly, Qalen erupted from his meditative position. He was beyond irate with trying to find his center. He was just sitting down with his eyes closed, concentrating on not losing his temper but to no avail. And listening to Kilik's convey her inner conflicts made the young Joro warrior feel more like he'd been attending some form of therapeutic session as opposed to honing his skills as a warrior. "General, I see no boon or benefit in any of this!" He exclaimed, stand with his arms crossed as he looked down on Kilik and the General. "Perhaps.. perhaps there is another mentor I can seek. One more accustomed to the traditional practices of the Joro Tribe." Qalen immediately wanted to bite off his tongue, but the words had already left his lips.

The General’s silence was thick and ladders with annylsyos. She didn’t have to be able to read his emotions to feel the speculating calculations as he pondered her words. Strange…she had never discussed her failings with anyone but her parents and more recently her master. Yet, here before the General she found herself vulnerable but not weakened…something else. A feeling of prospect, a new wave of something more lingered in the air until it was shattered by Qalen’s petulance. The more she was around him the more immature she found him to be he must’ve been much younger then she originally thought. His reference to another general who was familar of his ways and battle. He must’ve meant Delion. Despite their skin tone their demeanor’s to Kilik were like night and day. Delion, beneath his calm demons was the power and aura of a well seasoned beast. Qalen, right now was like an adolescent who fangs just grew in. Still, she believed his zeal for the empire remained the reason she accepted his leadership…

It was hard…to wrestle against one’s nature. Kilik had been fighting against the call of her owns her entire life for fear of what allowing it to take control could cause. And yet knowing her goal would never be realized if she allowed herself continued hesitation. Her enemy was a ruthless an uncanny cunning killer. She didn’t stand a chance against him and never would if she did not grow beyond this.

"Kilik." The General uttered, his blue eyes resting on hers. "If the extent of your potential does not scare you, then you do not have enough of it. But do not allow fear to dissuade you from power. Your true power."

She was prepared for his next choice of words to cut into like a blade through meat but they did not cut. If anything that affirmed…watered even. It was in that moment she had the feeling she had when she first laid eyes on B’halia that though it was a land where the strong survived…they were not mindless violent mammals like she had original gauged. her introduction to it where at the hands of the Jo’ro after all. But even then Delion carried himself with a dignity that bellied his meat headed appearance. What was it that allowed them to wild such power and yet remain rooted? Was it truly just will power? Or, something deeper.

“Both of you. I want you to take these fruits, fill them with as much Naten as you can, and then eat them. "

She received the fruit that honestly looked like a rock with a stem. Upon closer inspection she saw that the fruits skin looked more like a moon then anything. It was weighty and carried an air of mystic around it. For a moment she almost sided with Qalen’s earlier disdain as she could not imagine what she could possibly gain by consuming a mere melon. She couldn’t imagine he was none to happy about this part of it all either.

”Fruit? He would have us snack at a time like this?”

Her skepticism was quickly dismantled however as his gaze remain firm and unwavering as he gave this task.

“Hmp”

She nodded as she cupped the melon firmly in the palm of her hands before taking a deep breathe. Upon her exhale Kilik’s eye would flash a thin cherry red before her Naten was unleashed. The weight of her aura crashed onto the room like a spiritual pressure but was quickly elevated as she pulled her power under a tight reign. Even then she could feel it resisting her, defying her will…

Orvyn: I am BEYOND you girl. My thirst is not one your meager will can parch. Release my power, you are far to passive…

The proud incarnation of the seas once again grew obstinate as Kilik continued to try to mitigate her power. She was a force of nature the life giving dew incarnate and yet this girl would continually have her sweep her power under a rug? If she was going to be so fearful of her might. Than the Wavebringer felt she had chosen wrong. Her desire for vengeance was not equivocal to the dragon living within her, her ambition skewered by the remnants of her life as a monk so deeply engraved even now keeping her from walking in her full purpose.

“No..”

She said as she felt her hold on her magic begin to fade like a searing inferno withered down to a flickering ember. Again she began to sink into the abyss of uncertainty allowing her insecurity to consume her. The Wave mother would erase her hold on her magic leaving her a failure…

But then… as she sunk within the proverbial jaws of Orvyn reclamation she heard the voice of her master, Eralia’s last words to her.

"To become who you wish to be, you must sacrifice who you are. Be wary that what you take is not more than what you can give."

For a year those words stayed glued to her, unable to define their meaning. Until this very moment. She was still clinging to flickers of her past. Her time with her family summering and stuffing down her power as to not inspire fear in her people. She was running from herself the version of her that wounded her father due to lack of control. Only now did she truly realize that unless she released those bonds entirely she would always be tethered to their weaknesses as well.

“I have never been like them…”

She said to herself but yet spoke the words aloud. Timbering all the matches she could have won when sparring had she not held back. Thinking about how her life span dwarfed those of her species. She was keeping herself in the category of an average Nissago when in fact she was nothing like any of them… she was evolution.

“ I am MORE!”

In that moment as the war of wills raged victory seemed all but certain for the WaveBringer until a flooding of willpower enveloped Orvyn influence. Kilik had to accept that she was no longer a Nissago monk no longer a mere steward of the Grove. But now an avenger of the Azure depths. She was no puppet and Orvyn was her birthright….

“YOU. WILL. YEILD!”

Kilik’s magic power sky rocketed as she bound Orvyns madness to her will triumphing over her draconic Patrón forcing her into submission long enough to quell her discontent and allow Kilik to wield her magic uncontested.

She was no sea horse

But a Dragon

And it was high time she began walking like it.

”You forget yourself Orvyn! It was not my weakness that drew to me but my ire. The boiling indignation in my blood to see the wrong done to me rectified. But I will give you leave to question MY right to this power no longer. Even by FORCE!”

The deep cherry hue of her Naten was visible but as she gripped hold of the magic it began to envelope the fruit saturating it with the primal force of her draconic essence.

“I am Nissago no longer…”

She said as she raised the fruit to her mouth it brimming with ancient magic power.

“But now a Dragon of B’halia instead”

With that she devoured her fruit consuming it until there was nothing left. She hadn’t the slightest clue how doing so was going to affect her. But she was done obsessing over the what if’s. The deed was done.

General Roux rose from his seat, watching intently as Qalen and Kilik cautiously sampled the exotic fruits, following his command. Qalen, far more hesitant than Kilik, took a tentative bite, his wariness evident. The fruits' taste was unparalleled, a burst of flavor unlike any conventional melon or citrus. Beyond their sweetness and succulent, crisp texture, the Safraberries held a sacred status, reserved for the blessed inhabitants of the Empire.

These berries, grown exclusively in B'halian soil, were cultivated with extraordinary care– explicitly for each individual recipients. Though physiologically identical, no two Safraberries were the same. Their effects varied, shaped by the meticulous growing process, but each berry, enriched by B'halian soil, was a potent catalyst for harnessing natural energy. Unfortunately, while extraordinary , this transformation was far from painless.

Initially, Qalen and Kilik felt fine, savoring the fruit's flavor. But as soon as the flesh of the fruit reached their stomachs, a violent transformation began. Their insides twisted violently; It would soon become so intense, so painful, that neither of them would be able to move. Until they suddenly started vomiting, violently at that. Qalen in particular filled the air with the sounds of his guttural croaks and throat splitting yelps whenever he wasnt covering these sacred grounds with vomit.. And no matter how hard he tried to control herself, the volume only intensified. It felt like he was spitting up acid, and the ordeal seemed interminable.

The General observed with a steely expression; he took no enjoyment in their suffering. The Mazoku tribe had discovered Safeaberries long ago and, with the help of the Syla Dryad fae, were capable of utilizing the unique fruit to attune other races to the ebb and flow of natural energy. This attunement allowed the Empire to weaponize the strength of the planet itself, and was a necessary trial for learning Shinjutsu.

Roux allotted them the space needed to release the impurities dampening their connection to the Aether. The torrential process was vile and disgusting, but to their fortune however, it wouldn't last much longer.

"Endure this, recruits.” The General commanded, his voice resonating with authority. “This is your first trial, the first steps toward wielding B'halia's greatest weapon. The slime you currently stew in is what's left of your weakness. The poison and impurities that have clung to you throughout your lives before stepping under my wing.”

He said with his arms folded, pride stretching his wings to their frightening maxim.

“What you are feeling is the culmination of natural energy in the vicinity; coming from me, the hundreds of other soldiers within the barracks, as well as the soil you stand on. You are feeling all of it.. Right now, your bodies are in shock from the sudden exposure. It will take time to adjust, which is why we needed to be certain your bodies were appropriately prepared for such an ordeal. You've proven this much during your exhibitions. You've proven you have the potential. Now center yourselves.. when you manage to accomplish this, and can meet me on your feet, then we can proceed with the next phase of the conditioning.”

Initially, Qalen and Kilik felt fine, savoring the fruit's flavor. But as soon as the flesh of the fruit reached their stomachs, a violent transformation began. Their insides twisted violently; It would soon become so intense, so painful, that neither of them would be able to move. Until they suddenly started vomiting, violently at that.

She wasn't sure what to expect after consuming the berry, and she felt nothing. Good or bad. It was disappointing and a bit anticlimactic. Managing to tame Orvyn for a time just for the next step in what she thought was a road that would put her in a position to further her mastery. But as she sat there, still meditative, her mind could not hope but become clamored with little notes of a lack of faith in these methods.

"Perhaps ive over--"

She could scarcely finish the thought as she felt a gut-wrenching pressure grip her stomach. Like someone had burrowed their hand deep, grabbing her internal organs and twisting them relentlessly. She clutched at her abdomen, trying to assuage the pain, but nothing helped. It only intensified to the point where she was paralyzed by the pain.

"!!!"

The agony was mind-numbing, like hellfire flowing through her veins, slowly burning her away from the inside out. Her mouth began to grow as she thrashed around violently on the ground, unable to keep herself from convulsing. Her scales erupted into a volley of different colors and patterns like a TV gone bad. Her naten was beyond her control, their expression beyond her will. She could barely keep her mind intact, let alone control her anthem. As her convulsion began to steady, The only discernible noise from the intense ringing in her ears was Orvyn's roar.

"Foolish girl, to have ner steered a ship in your short days. You shall lead this vessel to ruin! Do not succumb! Wait...this"

Though a slow and painfully arduous process, the girl was digesting the fruit, and its properties began opening the floodgate of new senes. She lunged upright as her stomach quaked in torment before the agonizing burning of acid crawled from her gut through her throat finally expelled as she vomited chaotically.

“What you are feeling is the culmination of natural energy in the vicinity; coming from me, the hundreds of other soldiers within the barracks, as well as the soil you stand on. You are feeling all of it.. Right now, your bodies are in shock from the sudden exposure. It will take time to adjust, which is why we needed to be certain your bodies were appropriately prepared for such an ordeal. You've proven this much during your exhibitions. You've proven you have the potential. Now center yourselves.. when you manage to accomplish this, and can meet me on your feet, then we can proceed with the next phase of the conditioning.”

Before Kilik could make heads or tails of this new flush of sness Orvyn was impacted first. The creature felt the ebb and flow of the natural order; though the shock had sundered them both, the dragon spirit's exposure to this energy felt like the touch of an old friend. Its familiar wavelength resonates with her primordial nature. For the first time in thousands of years, her spirit knew peace. Connection.

"Listen to me, my chosen; all things in the worlds, both seen and unseen, are like the seas we are born from. It all pushes and pulls, rises and falls, ebbs and flows. Cannot fight against the nature of the waves...so you must?"

The Wavebringers voice! Spoken with a serenity she had not heard since the first day her powers awakened, their pact created. That unexpected boon emboldened her resolve enough to make heads and tales of Orvyns advice, and she was right. All of Kilik's life was centered around fighting against something, resisting the tide, and burdening herself with the handicap of resisting her nature. All she ever accomplished was stuffing down her fears, hiding her insecurities, and allocating nothing substance to her growth. She had done nothing but hinder herself in holding on to the waves of the grove. To the teachings of her monkhood.

But she was a monk no longer.

More than a gardner for the grove

She was its indignation made manifest.

it's will incarnate

The dew after the rain, the storm after the calm.

For the first time since the concentration of her pact, Orvyn helps the girl. She assisted in Kilik's ability to metabolize the onslaught of energy impact, which navigates through her body and various senses. Its ravaging bite was not contained but evened out, allowing her rapid convulsion to reach sporadic tremors eventually. As the energy traveled through her neuropathy ways, she felt her newly embellished senses begin to make sense of it all steadily.

"I must"

Her voice cracked under the pressure of her weighed-down body, her endowed frame feeling like a mountain to bear. But bit by bit she felt ebbs of strength flow back into her, The muscle sore from the disturbing purging of impurities finding vigor anew as she struggled to her feet

"I...Must...."

Her knees were robbed of their strength once more, sending her falling back down, but this time, she landed on one foot, catching her fall. She grits her teeth, trying to relieve the numbing, tingling sensation of limbs gone lethargic. Her scales, no longer a rapid display of flashes, now began to become cherry pink pulsating as they became gradually accustomed to the mystical foundation of B'halia. She clenched her hands, not fighting against the energy but allowing it to mellow and take route, her mind, giving her back control over her being and causing Kilik to erupt in a plume of coral colored naten the energy spike threatening to burst through the ceiling.

"I WILL!"

Just as it was about to force its way through, the energy came to a sudden halt, bubbling with the consistency of water. The cloudy energy began to smooth out until its likeness was as clear as the ocean surface, revealing a brief glimpse of Orvyn herself .

"My hold on my sanity wains. Heed my words chosen; master this power. Hesitant no longer can you be, the bottom of the abyss contains...the...root."

And with that, the energy of her likeness faded. The light wrapped itself around Kilik before solidifying like glass, cracking and shattering, revealing her form. She stands now on both feet, still catching her breath. Her scales are vibrant with residual coral energy. Orvyn's last words echo as she finds her center again.

"Your faith is not wasted, Sea Mother; this gift shall not be squandered."

General Roux remained statuesque during Qalen and Kilik's arduous ordeal. His eyes were sharp, his demeanor unwavering as he meticulously observed their progress. Each tremor in their bodies, each bead of sweat, was a testament to their struggle against the relentless bombardment of natural energy. From his extensive experience, he knew that this crucible could take days to break even the strongest of wills. The Safraberries, while potent catalysts, were as dangerous as they were transformative. He had seen countless warriors, seduced by the promise of Shinjutsu's power, fall victim to their own overconfidence.

The effects of the Safraberries were unpredictable and brutal. He witnessed lesser men succumb to the fruit like a poison; men void their bowels in a futile attempt to expel the toxic energy, their bodies wracked with agony until they lay empty husks. Others had been petrified, their forms twisted into grotesque arboreal sculptures or cold stone, a stark reminder of nature's unforgiving harmony. The transformation was merciless, a gauntlet that swiftly weeded out the weak and unworthy.

Today, General Roux braced himself for the familiar scene of desperation and failure. He expected to see Qalen and Kilik thrashing on the ground, their bodies convulsing as they struggled to survive. He anticipated the hours would drag on, a grim testament to their endurance. Yet, as he watched, a spark of surprise flickered in his eyes. Despite the overwhelming odds, something remarkable was unfolding before him. “Hmm?” he murmured, his interest piqued. Against all expectations, his recruits were not only enduring—they were adapting. Slowly but surely, they were beginning to rise, both literally and figuratively, their resilience shining through the torment.

And with that, the energy of her likeness faded. The light wrapped itself around Kilik before solidifying like glass, cracking and shattering, revealing her form. She stands now on both feet, still catching her breath. Her scales are vibrant with residual coral energy.

His gaze initially settled on Kilik– her vivid, dramatic transformation, a spectacle of color and power. While he had no knowledge of her inner dialogue and the conflict that ensued within her, Roux could literally sense it. He could feel her growth through her metamorphosis and the nuances it carried along with it. He then glared over to Qalen. The young J'oro remained on his knees, but there was also a transformation that occurred within him. Soon, he found his foot, albeit fatigued and weary.

“You've found the strength to stand?” General Roux's stoic facade cracked ever so slightly as a hint of satisfaction curled at the corner of his beak. Perhaps Delion was right.. and these two were different after all. “Do not be content with meager success.”

He then tossed the both of them a change of clothes. “For when you are able.” Before he spread his massive wings once more and took toward the skies, launching off the ground in a graceful, silent instant.

“Now that you are able to feel the ebb and flow of natural energy, we will begin by kneading it in tandem with your Naten.” As the General said this, he once again adopted a meditative posture while his wings kept him afloat. “Do not try to absorb it.. it is virtually infinite wellspring that may kill you if you try, but rather, allow it to flow through you. To do this, you must maintain your center. It will be your anchor. Keeping you still and calm amidst the storm you're experiencing.”

The winds began to whip and churn as The General continued, drawing even more emphasis to his words without drawing away from the content of his message. “The Art of Shinjutsu enables B'halia to harness the most powerful weapon in existence– the very planet itself. But only through discipline.. Only through patience, resilience, and will can you hope to weather the weight of the Vescrutia's strength.” He roared in tandem with the clouds, now bolstering the threat of a full on maelstrom. “You may begin.”

“You've found the strength to stand?” General Roux's stoic facade cracked ever so slightly as a hint of satisfaction curled at the corner of his beak. Perhaps Delion was right.. and these two were different after all. “Do not be content with meager success.”

As she continued to gain her poise, her breathing began to even out. Delion's words began to flash back to mind. When she first stepped foot in B'halia just days ago, her opinion of them waded between impressed and skeptical. She could tell they were more advanced than any other surface realm she had ever seen. She did not have a high opinion of their recruitment-level warriors, and seeing how they were dead, she wasn't too far off the mark. However, the blazing tenacity of the salamanders, willing to lay down their lives merely to get an advantage for one of their own, struck a chord with her; aside from it being a ridiculously reckless maneuver, it was powerful enough to nearly take her life, forcing her to tap into her birthright.

They died defending their pride. The honor of their homeland. An honor her words assaulted.

At that moment, she began to see only a glimpse of the picture the generals saw in fullness. It was not a nation of oppressed. Regardless of how they came to be under the gaze of the Empire, each faction of it was thriving. Though it did not tolerate weakness, it regarded the strong with basic survival and the ability to surpass the innate limits of their genetic design and become something grander. With each passing moment after narrowly surviving the suffering of the Safraberries' properties, she began to understand the deeper web of connectivity and the essence of what was the foundation for it all. At its core...B'halia was...

A reflection of nature itself, a mural of its ferocity and ambitious desire to evolve and grow.

"This...feeling"

A thought crossed her mind as she caught the clothes the general tossed her way. She scarcely understood the surface world's need for clothing, a symbol of identity and perspective, she supposed. She decided to conform, at least during her training. Her focus couldn't waver, her body healing from the intense transformation. With each breath, she felt her strength returning, a physical manifestation of her slowly evolving understanding. She was completely disrobed, her naked body unlawfully exposed. After dressing herself, she was ready to continue her journey. She happened to catch a glimpse of Queen's... physique. The sharp edges of his musculature. His training had been burdensome, she could tell. Unlike the general, Qalen's heart was worn on his sleeve, and his views and belief badges were of honor and reverence for his service to his nation. But the fact that he had defied death twice now in less than 24 hours. She was also starting to understand the depth of pride and how he fought against her tirelessly to honor it—refusing to die until his goal was fulfilled. She wondered...what did Qalen genuinely desire? Something that made her look at herself.

What was her pride?

The winds began to whip and churn as The General continued, drawing even more emphasis to his words without drawing away from the content of his message. “The Art of Shinjutsu enables B'halia to harness the most powerful weapon– the very planet itself. But only through discipline.. Only through patience, resilience, and will can you hope to weather the weight of the Vescrutia's strength.” He roared in tandem with the clouds, now bolstering the threat of a full on maelstrom. “You may begin.”

The domain was swept up in a turbulent maelstrom. The sheer power of the winds was almost enough to peel her scales from her flesh. As she began orienting herself, her senses were sent into another flux. Maintaining an open channel through which her energies could safely flow was proving ever more difficult when she herself could not remain stable. The deafening howls of the twisting gale almost made her black out cold, but with the newfound confidence from her patron, she was determined not to fall back on her promise so soon after it was made.

She endeavored with fearsome tenacity at her backing to weather this storm. Despite its virulence, Kilik found herself beset by a barrage of sensations. Nissago innately feels the emotions of those around them; this is done because of the sensitivity of their mystical scales. From what she was beginning to understand about Shinjustu, it was the process of learning to allow one's body to channel the raw essence of the planet itself. Therefore, her earlier personification with B'halia reflects what nature embodied, which was not a far thought.

"It's deeper... Its web is more intricately woven than I've ever believed possible. A blinding storm, a rafter has kept me from seeing...my hatred so strong."

Her words were stolen by the winds as they lashed about, creating a force that nearly ripped her from the earth. Her fanaticism and fury at Zero and the surface world had forced her to denounce existence, viewing them all as useless consumers. She never questioned how this might hinder her from being able to see how much broader her scope of perception was being limited by blind retribution. In all its vast majesty, its depths still untouched, the sea was such a small part of a much larger tapestry. And she, for all her posturing, was a mere spec. This notion made it even more difficult to withstand the pull of the general force.

"But what?... What is my pride?"

She thought as gritted her teeth, trying not to dominate the energy flow but letting it oscillate through her. It is an uphill task, as the weight of
Vescrutia's presence was much more than Orvyn could've ever become...