230. Temple of Descending Currents

A/N: I changed the ending of ch 229 to reflect that the correct mission, you will see in this chapter what I mean

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Alistair and Elektra spent the rest of the hour eating the delectable meals of the local restaurant. In his attempt to woo the Saltwind heir, he had found one of the most expensive steakhouses in the city.

He thought that this might conflict with their mission, but once the hour was almost up, she grinned and took him out to the valet parking.

One of the most beautiful spaceships he had ever seen greeted him. Alistair wasn’t a car guy back before the initiation, but if this was how a custom ship could look, he might become a spaceship guy.

The vessel was a sleek silver craft that flowed like liquid mercury frozen in perfect aerodynamic form. Crystalline veins of ambrosic glass traced elegant patterns across its hull, pulsing with blue-white light from active Mana channeling systems. While some might have been turned off by the almost life-like aspect of the ship, he found it endearing.

The strange curves and a life-like Dao that emanated throughout suggested it had been grown rather than built. The price tag on this thing must have been enough to bankrupt a nation. The other ships were mere hunks of junk compared to Elektra’s vessel.

A hole opened in the exterior of the ship. Elektra stepped in with practiced ease, beckoning for Alistair to join her.

There were three others in the ship with them. They were playing a game of Partentho with a VR headset, obvious from their animated moves as they inhabited each of their pieces.

“Miss Elektra!” A tall and buff man jumped to attention, discarding his headset into his inventory. “You caught us in the middle of an excellent game.”

“It’s no problem, Georgios,” Elektra said. “Let me introduce you to the newcomer. The merchant kid I was talking about. Kael Thorne.”

“That’s right,” said a woman next to Georgios. “I’m Anna, by the way. I’m in charge of artifact preservation. The big guy, Georgios, is our muscle. And then the elf finds the loot.”

Anna was referencing the slender yet over seven-foot-tall elven woman at the pilot’s seat. She was majestic as her species implied, with luscious blonde hair that fell past her waist. Just based on first impressions, he guessed they were all in the High to Peak Adept territory. Elektra was certainly the weakest, on account of her youth.

“I have a name, you know,” the elf shot back. “Letredeas Moroback. An ancient name.”

“I’ll do well to remember,” Alistair said earnestly.

“I like this kid already,” Letredeas said. “Does he know the details?”

The opening closed behind Alistair, and the ship rose, flying so smoothly it was as if he were on solid ground.

“I was just getting to that,” Elektra said. “Kael, what we’re heading to is the Temple of Descending Currents. It’s one of the oldest structures on this planet, predating the Final Frontier Empire by several hundred million years.”

She gestured, and a holographic display materialized in the center of the cabin, showing a massive stepped pyramid wreathed in swirling energy.

“The temple was built by an ancient civilization that mastered water in a way we still don’t fully understand,” Elektra continued. “This temple is situated at the center of Pelagapos. Every twenty-five years, the temple’s inner sanctum opens for exactly thirteen hours. During that time, we can access various chambers that contain all kinds of treasures. To this day, it still hasn’t run out.”

“Wow,” Alistair said. “How long has that been going on for?”

“Since the advent of the Final Frontier Empire,” Elektra said proudly, as if she were claiming heritage from the forerunner civilization. “Unbelievable that it’s still going, right? Well, it’s not as popular as you might imagine, as the treasures have gotten far worse over the years. Back in the days of the first few emperors, the Trial of the Descending Currents used to be the most important standard event for young cultivations in the entire universe. This one will be a little bit more popular because of the nature of the prize.”

“You know what the prize will be in advance?”

“To some degree,” Letredeas said. “The temple acolytes run an impetration racket that they claim goes to sacrifices for their elder gods. Doubtful, but the highest sponsors get more information. Thank the Jade Emperor that the Saltwinds are so wealthy.”

“Don’t tease the boy any further,” Georgios admonished. “They told us that the main prize relates to a dragon heart.”

Something stirred deep inside Alistair. Dev'rox seized the moment. Seeing the compulsion on his mind temporarily wane, the imp tried a crazy tactic—attacking.

Seeing no other option, he manifested before the four strangers and gathered spatial affinity Mana in his barbed tail. With one rapid strike that caught everyone off guard, he slashed Alistair in the face.

Or he would have, if his master had not slipped into Bodhi Consciousness.

Alistair’s mind cleared like a mountain lake after a storm. The golden lightning of Bodhi Consciousness crackled through his neural pathways, burning away the foreign mental influence that had been clouding his thoughts.

In that instant of perfect clarity, he realized just how sinister that mind control had been. Even though it wasn’t harmful, the idea that his intellect had felt so naturally compelled was disturbing.

Alistair’s hand was the only thing stopping the imp’s tail, his gambit having worked perfectly. The spatial distortion around the barbed appendage flickered and died as Dev'rox quickly dispersed back into invisibility.

“What in the Seven Hot Hells was that?” Georgios roared, combat instincts kicking in as he reached for a weapon that materialized in his hand, a massive warhammer crackling with earth affinity Mana.

Anna had already thrown up a shimmering barrier of crystal energy around herself, while Letredeas had spun in the pilot’s seat.

Elektra stared at Alistair with wide eyes, her earlier confidence replaced by wariness. “Kael? What just happened? What was that we saw?”

Alistair forced himself to remain calm, the tranquil state of Bodhi Consciousness helping him maintain perfect emotional control even as his mind raced. He needed to defuse this situation immediately while keeping his cover intact.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, raising his hands peacefully. “That was my... contracted familiar. There was something about the mention of dragons that triggered him. I have him under complete control now. You have my solemn oath on my Dao.”

It was a flimsy explanation, but delivered with his characteristic confidence, it almost seemed believable.

“How dare you!” Dev'rox exclaimed within Alistair’s Domain. “It’s not my fault you got caught up in that identity shift.”

“There was literally nothing I could do.” Alistair had to protest that charge. “I’m guessing everyone was affected by that.”

“Yeah, yeah. I wonder how Leofric Sturmklinge did.”

Alistair didn’t take the bait, keeping a smile up for his new comrades.

Georgios slowly lowered his warhammer, though his grip remained tight. “A familiar that reacts to dragons? I can’t say I’ve ever heard of that.”

“He’s a ghost from hell. Had a bad experience with some sadistic dragons in his past.” Alistair fibbed like crazy, relying on [Karmic Battery] to prevent any lies from being detected.

Letredeas turned back to her controls, but her pointed ears were clearly tracking every word. As an elven woman, despite her feminine appearance, her voice was as deep as a human male, though of course not even close to the bass tones of an elven man. “Well, as long as my pay is guaranteed. If he fucks things up, it’ll be on your dime, my lady.”

“Indubitably,” Elektra replied.

At that point, Alistair was certain that Elektra was someone from the Clear Water Sect, but he couldn’t prove it yet. There must have been some agenda to their memory charms. Some way for non-mental cultivators to break free, or perhaps they were relying on their fellow disciples to assist them?

“Dev'rox, use that big brain of yours to figure out how to help her, will you? And yes, I am admitting you are smarter than me, so don’t even start. Let’s get this done together.”

——

The Temple of Descending Currents dominated the underground heart of Pelagapos like a sleeping titan.

The above-ground section was completely nondescript, a gray waste of stone cordoned off by the lawful magistrates of the city. There was perhaps a five-mile swath of unremarkable gray stone that collected a certain stillness of pure earth. An ancient, stolid stillness that felt like an atavistic creature in torpor.

The acolytes recognized their ship, opening a massive hole at the center of the temple grounds. Once they entered the cthonic section, Alistair realized how truly gargantuan the Temple of Descending Currents was.

Appearing to be hewn from a single colossal piece of coral, the temple descended into the planet’s depths like an inverted mountain.

Seven massive cliffs spiraled downward in a graceful helix, each level easily the size of a major city district. The scale was so vast that their ship looked like a mote of dust as it navigated between towering coral buttresses that stretched up into shadow.

Water cascaded throughout the structure in patterns that defied comprehension. Gravity was upended and common sense violated. Some flowed upward, creating impossible waterfalls that fell toward the ceiling, and occasionally hung suspended in crystalline formations that were visible despite the darkness of the subterranean cavern.

These were the “descending currents” that gave the temple its name despite being the opposite of what they described.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Elektra said, noticing his rapt attention. “Our architects tell us that they couldn’t recreate it, not fully. And those are Visionary architects we’re talking about.”

As they approached the temple’s landing platform—a circular expanse of smooth stone that jutted out from the third cliff like a shelf—Alistair noticed several other ships already docked.

Some were as elegant and sleek as Elektra’s vessel, while others were more mundane and workmanlike. One in particular caught his attention: a ship with the distinctive yin-yang coloring of the Endless Horizons Sect.

Did someone else release their mind? But how did they get their ship already?

“Looks like we have company,” Anna observed, following his gaze. “Endless Horizons. I can’t say I’m excited to have them here.”

“What did you hear about them?” Alistair asked, probing for info. “They’re the current top sect of the Empire, right?”

Elektra nodded. “Correct. I’ve heard intel that they’re participating in some sort of game with the local sect. I really don’t get that, though; the Clear Water aren’t even close to the Endless Horizons. I can’t imagine what both sides would gain out of it.”

“What would both sides gain, indeed,” Dev'rox chuckled.

“We should be looking out for them, then?” Alistair asked.

“Yes, but it’s not so bad,” Elektra explained. “The temple ensures that all teams are relatively equal. That’s part of why I recruited you. You’re the perfect fit for this team. Not too strong and not too weak.”

As their ship settled onto the ancient stone with barely a whisper, Alistair could feel the temple’s power more acutely. The very air thrummed multiple affinities, liquid, earth, and blood among the foremost. His Dragon’s Blood Mastery did indeed stir within him, recognizing something profound and kin to himself in the temple’s emanations.

They disembarked onto the platform, where several other groups were already gathering. There were hundreds of faces of every ethnicity and type of garb. With [Reality Sense], he immediately locked gaze with the Endless Horizons squad.

There were only two members, perhaps in line with the restrictions that Elektra mentioned.

The more visibly prominent disciple was nearly as tall as Letredeas. He was as dark as a Trexian without the signature white veins, with black eyes reminding Alistair of Jindor’s Reverse Eyes, though lacking the white pupils. His physique was as impressive as Alistair’s own, revealed with a nearly diaphanous robe.

Yet despite the formidable silhouette cast by the man, he did not draw Alistair’s eye. No, the shorter figure, perhaps an entire head shorter than his compatriot, was the center of attention. Even if you were ignorant of all other affairs, the “Future of the Disputed Shard” was a name that all knew.

Leofric Sturmklinge.

The identical twin of Berengar, he had blonde hair, blue eyes, and a sharp, angular face that most would call handsome. He had an ease about him that felt similar to Red’s own casual confidence.

More interestingly, there was no indication of any disguise or false memories. Alistair’s Kael Thorne visage hadn’t faded once Dev'rox had helped him out of the stupor, yet Leofric looked just like his normal self.

But before he could worry too much about the Endless Horizons disciples, a new voice rang out across the platform. A figure in elaborate blue and silver robes stood at the cliff’s main entrance—one of the temple acolytes that Letredeas had mentioned.

“Welcome, cultivators, to this thirteenth million opening of the Temple of Descending Currents! For those versed in numerology, it is a most auspicious occasion,” the acolyte called out. “I am Keeper Thalasson, guardian of the temple’s inner mysteries. I must inform you of an unprecedented development.”

The various groups fell silent, sensing the gravity in the keeper’s tone.

“For the first time in a million years, the temple’s inner currents have aligned in such a way that this opening will last not thirteen hours, but thirteen days. The temple will seal completely at the end of this period, and no power short of a Divine realm’s intervention will be able to reopen it before the next scheduled opening.”

Excited murmurs rippled through the assembled cultivators. Thirteen days instead of thirteen hours meant exponentially more opportunities to explore the temple’s depths and claim its treasures.

The voice of Elder Aylesfort spoke into his ear, though it felt more automatic than the actual presence of the Head of the Contribution Hall. “Deaths accounted for by Endless Horizons disciples shall be revived, but not those from outside the competition. Err on the side of caution.”

“However,” Keeper Thalasson continued, raising his hand for silence, “this extended period comes with additional dangers. The temple’s guardians will be more active, its defenses more lethal, and its deepest chambers will be unsealed. The possibility of death, either from the environment or your fellow trial takers, is quite high. This is your last chance to turn away.”

As expected, no one did.

“Very well. Many of you will regret this choice.”

The acolyte clapped his hands together. A notification appeared in Alistair’s vision.

Mission Update. Objective: Survive the Temple of Descending Currents and claim the deepest rewards. Warning: This is a competitive mission. Other teams not within the competition may attempt to eliminate you. Reward: Variable based on performance and treasures claimed. Time Limit: 13 days, 0 hours, 0 minutes.

“You will all be transported to a random spot at the outer cliff of the temple. Good luck.”

Alistair and the rest of his team disappeared with the power of the Pathfinder AI assisting the temple hierocrats. They appeared instantly within a dank passageway, surrounded by armored crabs.

The hunt had begun.