[Severed Divinity] 69. Safe House

Paling, Isen pulled his boots back on and walked into the open. He left the sword, stolen bow, and unused arrows next to the Aranite woman he’d killed.

He crouched down next to her, just staring at her blood-smeared mask, almost curious enough to lift it. She was probably human, too.

Isen had killed drayavin and monsters, but those were bestial, barely aware of themselves. The only real murder he’d partaken in before tonight was Erasmus the divine bear, and he’d gone into that fight ignorant of Erasmus’s intelligence. It had seemed every bit as monstrous as any other beast in the depths.

With this Aranite woman, there was no sugar-coating the truth.

Goldbounty had been a cold, harsh, unloving place, but the constant threat of monsters gave everyone a common enemy. People might be cruel, but murder was rare, even in the lowest, most depraved rungs of society. Beatings, trafficking, extortion—all were present. But when people took things too far, the soldiers who kept the peace stepped in. Everything existed in a careful balance.

Isen honestly never considered killing Lady Jin, even though doing so might have solved his immediate problems. She was terrible, but in a sick, pitiful, twisted way. He had just wanted to get away and never see her again.

And now, Isen killed a woman because she had tried to kill someone else. Because in the dark night, full of violence and danger, it had seemed the natural thing to do. The only thing to do.

He didn’t regret it. But it made him think.

Many strong cultivators had died, their lives so... worthless. What had they done to leave their mark on the world before the earth reclaimed them? Maybe they had families, clans of their own—Isen had no idea. Whatever the case, their legends, or whatever legends might have one day been, had ended.

It put a hollow sadness in his chest. Isen knew people had to die... it was the way of the world. But it all just felt so pointless and unfair.

Leaving the basin was a torment. Isen’s ribs hurt with every movement, afflicted by the caustic energy, and his shoulder stung to a lesser extent where the bow’s spike had impaled him.

It was all made worse by the collapse of the rocks caused by the conflict, making the path steeper. After the venomous wound, it burned to channel energy through his meridians to strengthen his body, which made him nervous to exert himself.

Relying on his sense of balance and a running start, he managed to escape the basin, returning to the rocky path that meandered up to the first rows of houses. He happened to pass by the settlement he’d originally stolen the black shroud and cloak from. He unwound the thin cloth from around his head. It was a bit dusty, but otherwise clean. The cloak, on the other hand, was bloodstained and torn. The fabric was dark; the stains would probably come out with a wash, and the tear was easily mendable. He took it off with care, avoiding his injuries.

After putting them both back on the clothesline, he resumed his brisk walk, sticking to the path rather than darting over the rooftops.

“You could have thrown the disguise away,” Lumina said.

“It was a nice cloak.” This part of the lower level looked almost like Goldbounty. He knew how valuable a good cloak was to people who had so little. If he’d had a cloak like that before, and someone had “borrowed” it... he’d have been furious if they threw it out just because they soiled it.

Besides, he didn’t feel any danger from the sixth sense over the gesture. Nobody would hunt him down because he left his impromptu disguise swinging in the breeze.

On the way, Isen attracted the attention of some lower level natives, but they all deliberately ignored him when they saw his pin.

Isen made a few turns at Lumina’s guidance before arriving at a building full of narrow shops that were crammed together. The queen guided him to a hidden door, only accessible after he pressed an inconspicuous brick on the lower left side.

The door swung inward, then shut behind him automatically. Inside, the room was pitch black, and the ambient energy was thin, only giving things the faintest outlines. It was enough for Isen to make out a living space, with a table, two small beds, foodstuffs, and boxes.

“What is this place?” he asked.

“A safe house for special members of the police,” she explained. “If it had been occupied, I would have told you what to say to justify your presence.”

“Is there a light?” he asked, looking about.

“On your right—the switch.”

The room lit up, an overhead orb glowing like a miniature sun. Isen blinked as his eyes adjusted.

“On the wall, there is a shelf with a sealed black box. Fetch it and bring it to the table.”

Isen obeyed. The box weighed little more than a glass of water, and was covered in a smooth, unembellished lacquer. To open it, he ran his nail into the seam that spanned its center, breaking the airtight seal, or so Lumina said.

The lid popped open and revealed twelve slender pills, each the length of a fingernail and half as wide. He couldn’t tell if they were actually glowing or if they produced light golden-white energy that only he could perceive. Their surfaces were pure white, save for a golden band across the center and a small red dot capping the top and bottom.

Isen had never been so close to alchemical pills before. He stared at them in wonder, captivated by the subtle glow that surrounded them.

“Remove any vestments near your injuries and take one of the pills,” Lumina instructed.

Isen peeled off his sect uniform tunic, clenching his jaw as he pulled it over his head with his uninjured arm and gingerly tugged it over his wounded shoulder. His ribs hurt, but the numbing sensation had only increased, so it was presently tolerable.

With the shirt off, Isen inspected the ghastly wound on his side. He nearly retched—the flesh looked melted, and he could see parts of his ribs. He couldn’t look away, his eyes full of horror. In contrast, his shoulder wound looked much less serious, and already showed traces of natural recovery.

With a shudder, Isen snapped out of his stupor and grabbed a pill, placing it on his tongue and swallowing. He felt the smooth capsule moving through his throat.

From reading the pill primer, he knew he was supposed to cycle... but the current room was almost bereft of energy. Should he go outside?

“At the end of the room is a door. Enter, and make yourself comfortable while you absorb the pill’s energy.”

Isen staggered forward, overcome by a dizzy spell. He recovered his balance and walked to the pale wooden door, which opened automatically as he came close, sliding left into the wall.

On the other side was a small, unadorned room furnished only with a large, plush, square pillow. Isen fell onto it, crossed his legs, and leaned forward, hands on the pillow’s edge.

The chamber was filled with powerful, dense energy, so strong as to be asphyxiating. It was clearly meant for those with a higher cultivation than himself, he guessed at least B grade according to Clan Femera’s cultivation cave standard.

Isen rejected the physical feeling of being unable to breathe. The air is just the air, he thought, it flows into my lungs, then out again. He breathed shallowly, not yet cycling. It felt bizarre to do so in such an energy-rich place, like he was trying to breathe underwater.

Once he found a steady breathing cadence, he focused on cultivating. He felt feverish as the energy swirled into his body in a deluge, a great turbulence clanging against his solidified rings. At once, he understood why the cultivators in Clan Femera had been so concerned to see him cultivating in a room with potentially too-dense energy.

As the energy entered, it rushed through his meridians. It was agonizing—it felt like there were fine grains of sand scraping his meridians raw. His breathing grew ragged, losing the steady pattern.

There has to be a better way.

He crawled to the door and it opened. As he sat on the threshold, he realized that the door was the only thing keeping the energy differential between the two rooms.

He rotated the pillow vertically and dragged it to the door, wedging it on an angle to keep it open. Now that the energy steadily flowed out, the density wasn’t as suffocating.

He leaned back against the pillow, his legs crossed as he regained his steady breath. As the energy flooded his meridians, his whole body quivered with effort. But as he cycled, he sensed it—the pill. He felt its energy starting to waft into his flesh, crossing from the physical realm to one of energy. It was a balm to his weary flesh, offsetting some of the pain from cultivating in the energy-dense room.

He lost track of time.

Finally, when the last vestiges of the pill’s power faded, Isen collapsed onto the pillow with an exhausted moan.

He ran a hand over his ribs. The skin was slightly scarred, shinier than it should be, but healed, and it no longer hurt to cycle. His shoulder had healed without a scar.

What’s more, when he felt inward, he sensed an eighth ring.

He’d advanced again. A minor breakthrough—if one could call forming another ring a proper breakthrough in itself—but it was gratifying, given the insanity of the night. It was a concrete reward to justify his injuries and the risk of being caught.

Lumina’s promise would be the true prize, but she wanted the cosmovault in Welco’s possession. Isen didn’t see how he’d be able to get it for her at the moment. If the opportunity arose, he’d seize it, but if it didn’t...

Well, hopefully the queen still planned to find his master, regardless of how events transpired in Eldrassin City.

“Isen, I trust you can find your way to the Femera Clan without further guidance. When you are in the upper level, it is difficult for me to make contact. If you wish to speak to me, descend like you did tonight.”

“Should I take any supplies with me?” he asked. Clan Femera probably had pills and other goods, but they might be beyond his ability to purchase with sect points.

“You could clear this place out and I wouldn’t bat an eye. Good luck.”

And then she was gone.