[Severed Divinity] 83. A Busy Day

When Isen came to, he was soaking in a warm, shallow pool that had a medicinal aroma. His eyes were covered by a heavy strip of cloth that blocked out all light. He didn’t perceive any danger from removing it, so he tore it off.

The room was windowless, with multiple individual basins all sunk into the dark stone floor, offset by walls made from a light wood. Racks of folded towels rested on each wall.

Isen wasn’t alone. Also floating in a medicinal basin was Welco, whose face was wrapped in white bandages. He was still clearly unconscious, his head resting on the water’s surface, supported by a block.

Both Isen and the mage were nude, though the water was filled with foam, obscuring everything underwater.

They’d clearly escaped, but where had they gone? Or more specifically, where had Allezin and the queen taken them?

Isen inspected his body, holding up his arm. His collarbone twinged, but it was mostly healed, same with his ribs. He noticed a new pattern of thin, jagged scars, pink and puckered across his right shoulder, extending over his back. He shuddered as he retracted his fingers.

He took in a breath and cycled. Immediately, he noticed a sharp pain in his meridians near the scarred area. He didn’t think the damage was permanent, but he found it unsettling that this was how he felt after soaking in medicinal water—and probably taking a healing pill.

How close to death had he come?

Just thinking back to the palace, and how crushingly terrible the sense of danger had become, made Isen tremble. Why had the sixth sense not warned him earlier, so the encounter with the tier four could’ve been avoided? Wasn’t it just... supposed to know if there was danger ahead?

It was like the incident with Lady Jin and the other orphans all over again. He’d felt an opportunity, but had been unable to fully sense the misfortune that accompanied it.

It was a new mark against the sixth sense after a year building up trust in it.

Even as he despaired of its fallibility, he felt gratitude. What he’d pulled off in the palace wouldn’t have been possible without it. They would have all died. Well, him, Allezin, and Welco.

The violet-eyed woman was nothing like Erasmus, who’d awoken from a long hibernation to a torn gullet while sluggish and deprived of energy. Erasmus had been powerful and tenacious, but in many ways just like a bigger, stronger tier three.

From what Isen had seen so far, the aura of tier threes was a pressure that warred to exert its influence on the world, weighing down and slowing the enemy’s movements. In contrast, the tier four’s aura was an attack, like if Isen stood within it for too long, it would grind away at him until there was nothing left.

And that was just her aura. Her constitution must have been incredible to survive multiple fiery blasts from the queen, including a head blow. And even with awful looking wounds, she’d charged after them and released that final attack—at least the final one before Isen had lost consciousness.

It was the strongest technique Isen had ever witnessed. Enormous jaws of fulminous energy had formed all around them, crossed over a hundred feet without losing potency. Isen was sure that without the queen’s intercession—for that must have been what saved them—the attack would’ve killed them all.

And there was no way the woman’s attack could have been her best, injured as she was, her speech slurred.

It painted a clear vision of just how large the rank gap was.

And at each stage, it grows wider. If this was the gap between core consolidation and divine core, what was the chasm between divine core and nascent soul?

If I can’t kill tier threes by the time I reach the peak of tier two, I’ll already be behind, Isen thought. Not behind others at his own tier, or even the next, but behind those who earnestly sought the peak.

Now that he had taken Lumina’s legacy, he had a real shot at reaching tier five, if he made it to tier four—and the legacy actually worked.

Even reaching tier four would make him one of the most powerful existences. He would be a legend, and he’d be able to do so many incredible things. Maybe he’d even form a kingdom of his own like Lumina or Devon Aran.

It sounded amazing, but it was also so far away, so removed from his present reality. Nothing but a dream.

With a sigh, Isen stood from the pool, water dripping from his limbs as he strode for the towel rack. He wrapped one around his hips and made for the only egress he saw, a double archway leading to a dark hall, at the end of which lay a set of stairs leading to a single closed wooden door.

He opened it and found himself in an airy room with expensive-looking furniture and a plush carpet. A green fire burned in the fireplace, identical to the one Isen had seen when he last visited Welco.

He realized where he was with a start. He was in Clan Femera—most likely in an unfamiliar wing of Welco’s mansion. Before he could move more than a few steps, he noticed a presence. Footsteps in another room.

Feeling like an intruder, he resisted the urge to hide and instead called out. “Hello?”

“You’re awake.” The voice was quiet, tense. Kelsina appeared a moment later, her steel-gray hair falling around her shoulders. Her hands were stained a dark green, and she held a bulging silk pouch. If Isen had to guess, he’d say it was filled with pills.

“I saw the patriarch,” Isen replied. “Were there... others?”

“The man who brought you here, Allezin the Wanderer, is resting in one of the bedrooms.”

Allezin was here! “I see. Is he awake?”

She scowled. “No. He took a healing pill and conked out. It’s been a few hours since then.”

Then where was the queen? Had she escaped unscathed? And what about her flamebearer? Isen hadn’t seen anyone come with the queen, but a fire wielding mage must have been nearby to keep her divine flame from going out.

He’d need to ask Allezin for more details when the warrior woke up.

“What were you doing last night?” Kelsina asked.

“Did Allezin say anything?”

“Not enough. Something about a crazy cultivator attacking you.” She leaned in close. “I can’t bully a tier three for answers, even one that’s injured and dead tired. Rank gap’s a bitch. So, kid, that leaves you. What. Happened? And why didn’t me or Jorin know about it?”

Isen recoiled, his stomach dropping. He couldn’t fault Kelsina’s temper, though—her patriarch was incapacitated and no one was giving her answers.

What should he tell her? The truth was genuinely unbelievable. He also wasn’t sure how much he wanted to reveal about himself. Welco knowing he was... special... was maybe fine. But did that mean he’d tell others in his orbit? Would he confide in Jorin and Kelsina, or his mage disciples who’d already evacuated the city?

Isen wanted as few people to know about his sixth sense as possible. He might let Jorin and Kelsina into that inner circle, but he wasn’t ready to make that decision on the spur of the moment.

“I’m not sure,” Isen finally said, knowing the answer would piss the half elf off.

She snorted coldly. “Not sure?”

He nodded.

“Why were you with Welco outside of the clan at night?”

He just stared at her.

“Isen, I need to know,” she ground out, walking forward, forcing Isen to back up. “The patriarch might have died without Allezin’s rescue. Someone has made an enemy of Clan Femera, and I must know if the enemy comes from within or without.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Eldrassin, or foreign,” she said. Isen took another step back and his shoulders hit the wall. Kelsina loomed down at him. “The person—or persons—that attacked you.”

“How would I know? I’m new to Eldrassin.” If he had to guess, he’d say the elf was probably from Shor Mei. He wasn’t sure if that counted as foreign, though. Beyond Eldrassin, yes; beyond the elven lands, no.

Kelsina looked like she was about to explode. “How did the patriarch react, then? Give me something to work with.”

Ironically, Isen hadn’t been able to see Welco’s reaction, given the circumstances. But no one had expected the tier four’s presence. “Surprised. Very surprised.”

Kelsina’s frown deepened. “Where were you?”

“The queen’s palace,” Isen said.

The woman blinked and leaned back. “What?”

The surprise was genuine. Isen couldn’t tell if Kelsina was shocked because she didn’t know why they’d gone to the palace, or because she couldn’t believe the patriarch had gone there without her or Jorin.

If it was the latter... Well, Jorin, and especially Kelsina, had been wounded the night before, requiring rescue. If Welco went alone, it would have been to protect them.

Kelsina composed herself, then gave Isen an inscrutable look. She was probably wondering just how much Isen knew, and what she was permitted to tell him.

“How long until the patriarch should wake?” Isen asked.

“His injuries were severe. A few more hours. By noon bell, I’d guess.” She turned away. “Before you ask, your belongings are with Jorin. He’s cultivating outside.”

“What about my clothes?” Including his Eldrassin pin, which he was technically supposed to wear at all times. Not that the city seemed to be enforcing it, given the brewing storm.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “You were wearing little more than rags when Allezin charged in. Even the patriarch’s robes were damaged, like someone had ground the cloth on a mill. Jorin fetched you a new uniform.”

Just then, Isen’s stomach growled.

She took a deep breath. “Kid, what’d I tell you about skipping meals?”

“Doesn’t healing make you hungry?” Isen pointed out. He felt like it should.

She snorted. “Whatever. Let’s get you fed—then off to Jorin. Today’s gonna be a busy day.”

“Why?”

“It’s the end of the two-month cycle. Rank day. And knowing what I know, I think things are gonna be a bit shaken up. Especially because of you.”

Rank day? Why did that matter, with everything going on? For all Isen knew, when Welco woke, he’d arrange for everyone to evacuate the city. Or maybe Allezin would steal him away when he got up, now that he knew Isen offered tier-transcending utility.

For a second, he wondered if he’d made a mistake not telling Kelsina more. What if the violet-eyed tier four tracked them to Clan Femera? Wouldn’t it be his fault if people died because he kept quiet, just because it was easier and convenient to do so? Maybe they should all be packing up in haste, so they’d be able to depart as soon as Welco woke.

It felt like the kind of decision he shouldn’t have to make.

He reminded himself that if things were really urgent, Allezin wouldn’t have let himself rest.

“Can’t we postpone rank day for later?” Isen asked. “Most of the mages are gone. People are worried. The cultivators have been patrolling in force at night. Just— What’s the point?”

She looked at him like he’d grown an extra head. “Good luck with that. Besides, there’s no point in postponing rank day, even if the patriarch remains unconscious,” she said, shutting him down. “This conflict is beyond us. Worry about what you can control and help where you can.”

His mind came up with five separate sharp-tongued retorts, but he let them all go unsaid. He was tired. He was hungry.

He wanted clothes. And gods, he wanted his dagger.