Wraithwood Botanist

B2 - Chapter 26 - Cores

Aiden shrugged when I asked what Kline thought about me. "Sorry, I can’t tell you."

"Oh, come on!" I cried.

"Seriously," he smiled and looked away. "I can’t. He rescinded his right to translation, and he won’t get to change that for... a century, I think."

I blinked twice. "Wait... slow down. You gotta explain this."

"Oh, right. You haven’t met anyone... Well, outside this forest, the Oracle translates the things we say and even uses slight illusions to make it look like we’re all speaking the same language. The same thing works for animals because the Oracle can read the top layer of our subconscious."

"Yeah... that’s creepy."

"It is."

"But Kline turned that down?"

Aiden nodded. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"I... can’t speak for Kline. But I can say that..." His face contorted with frustration as if he were trying to translate something into another language when there wasn’t a word. "Look. Humans love animals because they can’t speak. And because of that, they can’t argue when they get frustrated. So your cat will give you the stink eye and slink off and then you’ll both get over it, they’ll rub on your legs, you’ll pet them and... life moves on. That’s best for the both of you."

A cold blade plunged into my heart. "So, what...? Is Kline worried I won’t love him anymore if he can speak?"

"I think... you’re jumping to the wrong conclusions. I can’t speak for Kline, but I think he loves you and your lives so much that he doesn’t want anything to change it. And I mean... if it’s good, why change it?"

My heart thawed, and my blood heated in a warm glow that made me feel so happy I could die. Kline materialized right next to Aiden and jumped up, clawing Aiden’s hand and making the poor guy yelp with pain before rushing off into the forest.

Aiden grabbed his bloodied hand and laughed. I giggled and joined him, healing the wound. Then, we stood laughing until that look of depression cast shade over Aiden’s face again. I knew the thought loops would hit soon, and it would send him to hell, so I took action to take his mind off it.

"You wanna go back?" I asked.

Aiden nodded.

The hike back to camp was silent and contemplative, and when we returned, that didn’t change much. Aiden tried to speak to Halten and get him to move away from the river, which had since created a pond around the dragon’s body from the dam.

I sat down and began heating up some meat by a campfire while throwing small pieces of jerky to Kline. He curled up next to me, and I did research on how to improve Aiden’s strength. Whether I liked it or not, Aiden was stuck with me for the time being, and he would be a liability if I didn’t get him up to speed. So, I used an information request.

Information Request: What’s the best way to make Aiden stronger, and what does he have to do to tame animals? Just come out and tell me.

"I have some good news and some bad news." Lithco casually walked out from behind me, tailored boots crunching on the rocky sand around the camp. "Which do you want first?"

"The bad news."

"Too bad. That would ruin the revelation." He sat down in his chair while my face spasmed. "You’re looking good."

"Tell me."

Lithco nodded, choosing his words and then speaking crisply. "Aiden’s a legacy holder. That’s the good news."

My eyes widened. "Like me?"

"Yep. Like you. But unlike you, his God specializes in warfare and wholesale slaughter."

"That sounds... useful... so what’s the bad news?"

Lithco smirked mockingly.

"Aiden... right."

"Cor~rect. The thing that separates Aiden’s legacy path from other beast taming routes is the use of soul scars—and soul scars come from killing things."

"Scars...? As in... like trauma?"

"No..." Lithco looked at the river. "You know how those souls remember parts of themselves?"

I nodded.

"It’s like that. Every time you kill something, a sliver of its soul mixes in with your soul force. The gods call it scars because it makes the soul force coarser—harder to affect or cut through. And Aiden’s legacy allows him to mobilize those remnants, blanketing opponents in the raw dying emotions of past victims. It causes severe dysphoria and fear, allowing Aiden to speak to them with primal authority and get them to yield."

"Wow.... That’s... god fucking awful."

A pale green core was auctioned next for 10,000. A light green for 17,000. An emerald like the one he was holding in the present at 35,000. He thought it was over, but then the lights dimmed, and the auctioneer smiled.

Tonight, we have something very special. This core is the core of Railain Vestra’s wyvern.

The house exploded in excited whispers as the man unveiled a green core that had been tinted blue to the point it was teal.

I don’t think there’s an investor alive who didn’t watch this wyvern conquer the Bramble. The raw power behind such a core is beyond words or comprehension. Now, you have the chance to buy its core and meat to help the Vestra buy their talented daughter another mount!

Aiden’s heart ached when he realized that Railain’s wyvern had died and was now being butchered and sold for another flying beast.

A core’s brightness is a sign of purity, Brexton whispered, breaking him out of his thoughts. Refinement. If it was just about mana, everyone would just... evolve. Turn their core from clear to yellow to... green—blue. Each stage allows you to hold more mana, and that’s good. But it’s not... helpful. True power comes from the density of mana, how smoothly you can use it, the cleanness of your core, and you get that through practice, threading—cleansing. Hard. Work. And no amount of money can replace that. But... if you buy one of those... He pointed at the teal core. A core that’s so pure that it’s on the precipice of changing colors before an evolution... you can steal that power and ferry yourself into the next evolution. That’s why these people turn into animals when they see one. Watch.

True to his warning, the audience devolved into chaos during the auction, with people yelling and threatening one another. Staff came out and threatened to remove people, but there were too many people arguing to enforce. Eventually, they just let the auction continue until a sandy-haired man named Hadrian Dante dropped a bid of one million and shut up the house.

No one contested it. Not because of the price, but for who he was.

Brexton pointed at Hadrian. Now that... that’s why everyone’s scrambling to get to Mira.

Huh? Him?

Yeah. Well, people like him. Family members. Us. See... we don’t need resources from the forest. That teal core? That’s all we ever thread. Whenever we need one, we just import it from the Third Domain. We can do that because we own the pipeline. But we don’t share. In fact, Hadrian there just spent a million hawks and some of his reputation just to keep other people from getting one.

Why?

So they can’t challenge us. Give one of those to an idiot who gets smart, and suddenly, you got a real problem. Rebellions strike up. Important figures start dyin’... Get it?

Aiden smiled bitterly. Yeah... so what does Mira have to do with this?

Brexton chuckled. Well, if you can’t afford good cores and the families won’t let you buy good cores, what do you do?

You go to the place with them.

Exactly. That wyvern took eighty years and countless resources to get that way with this domain’s meager resources. But you go to Areswood? Shit’s common. Kill one beast, and you’re set for life. That’s why hundreds of idiots flock to Areswood for the harvest, trying to strike it rich. And every so often, Hadrian or... fuck face this or that gets in there and snatches up a core... eats some meat... and comes back with dreams of becoming a god. Some make it—most die. And so it goes. But with Mira... Brexton grinned and let Aiden’s imagination fill in the details. Come on, let’s go.

Brexton exchanged a strange array-tattooed note for the citrine core. Then, he turned to Aiden with a thin smile, putting it into Aiden’s palm and closing his fingers over it.

Welcome to hell.

That wasn’t an understatement. The next day, when he put it into his mouth and began chanting, his mana channels started boiling, and he started to scream. It was like a bucking bronco was in his arms, making him spasm as specialists yelled at Brexton, warning him that Aiden was going to rupture his mana channels while the teen casually shrugged it off and declared Aiden could handle it.

The prick turned out to be right.

Sixteen hours later, Aiden woke up in a recovery bed, hooked up to strange tubes with rudimentary equipment like he was in a 19th-century hospital—with a brand new core.

He hadn’t threaded since.

Now, he was staring at a dark emerald second-evolution core.

How the hell am I supposed to do this...?

Aiden quickly got over his aversion and tried. He only got a minute in before crying out and spitting out the core. His mana veins were throbbing. He shakily brought the squeeze bottle to his lips, and just like last time, it felt like a cool ocean flooded into his veins. It was so much better than what he got at the Claustra Mansion.

This stuff’s magical...

He wondered where Mira got it and then kept wondering about Mira. He didn’t know why, but she was helping him, trying to save him and Halten, giving him a core and teaching him to hunt and giving him valuable resources that she needed to survive.

He was lucky... but he couldn’t take it for granted. If he wanted to survive and to repay the favor... he needed to push out the sad, mopey "life’s over" bullshit that he was drowning in.

This forest was filled with wild carnivores—not domesticated friends. Halten was his friend, and Halten was dying. And regardless of Aiden’s beliefs and desires, people had drugged him, used him, chewed him up, and spat him out in this forest, threatening to chain him to slavery and to kill his friend.

Over the last month, he had risked his life twice and put himself through hell. He wasn’t the same person he was, and he wouldn’t let that version of him rule over him any longer.

Now, more than ever, he was determined to take his life into his own hands.

He took a deep breath—and then started threading.

4.

Since I had a barrier, I walked to the other side of Halten where I was out of sight, stripped down to my underwear as Kline kept watch, and entered the river, free from the burden of clothing and a fifty-pound backpack. It was hard to concentrate on chanting when you were constantly fighting not to drown.

Under the maelstrom of vengeful judgment from the souls around me, I dove underwater and called out to Yakana, hoping he could answer my questions and help me grow.