Well. This was a fine pickle the Ninth Prince had got himself into.
Impaled on an iron pillar, just
hanging there, in the middle of the Pleuron battlefield, having fought four Foundation Establishment cultivators at once (Technically, his puppet had fought three of the cultivators, while the Ninth Prince got absolutely dumpstered by the remaining one, but, that didn't matter! The puppet was part of the Ninth Prince's power, and thus it counted!) all to save Diogenes Aparamillos from getting himself killed.
The Ninth Prince expected a fruit basket as thanks,
at the very least! Obviously, such a thing would beggar the Aparamillos, but such was the price of their scion's life. (Hmmm, actually, that sounded a bit harsh. He'd better bump it down to half a fruit basket. Still costly, but not enough to ruin Diogenes' family. Was that still too much?).
Wait, what was he doing? The Ninth Prince could think of a potential reward for his absolutely heroic and selfless actions later! Right now, the most important thing was figuring a way to
get off this pillar. Being impaled was apparently quite painful, who knew?
…Hmmm, now the Ninth Prince was feeling mildly concerned about the dozens of foul fiends and vile villains he'd had Ulo impale on rock spikes. Not enough to regret impaling them, since those evil enemies most certainly deserved it, but still kind of bad. That was cleared up almost immediately though, since, well, foul fiends and vile villains and evil enemies. It was hard to feel bad for them when they were trying to butcher mortals.
Speaking of, where
was Ulo? Normally, whenever the Ninth Prince got seriously injured, Ulo would be yelling at him through the mindweb. The fact that he was silent – really, the fact that the
mindweb was silent at all – was worrying. Still, Ulo was probably fine. After all, he had to be.
Through an extraordinary amount of will, the Ninth Prince managed to wrench his eyelids open, and began to try and focus hard enough to actually see things instead of just an enormous blur.
Eventually, after heavens know how long, the Ninth Prince succeeded in his herculean task of being able to see stuff. And frankly, after seeing what was around him, the Ninth Prince kind of wished he hadn't tried.
The area around the Ninth Prince was a blasted and scarred wasteland, ravaged by venom, acid, spikes of earth, and the concentrated effects of hundreds of snakes. The Jade Blood Beauty Puppet was crumpled in a heap next to him, looking for all the world like a puppet with its strings cut. Which was appropriate, seeing as it was a puppet with its strings cut. In addition to the damage wrought by a cultivator specifically specializing in terrain readjustment (in case you weren't sure, imaginary person in the Ninth Prince's head, said cultivator is the Ninth Prince), the battlefield was also utterly destroyed by the four foundation establishment cultivators the Ninth Prince fought.
The ground was littered with molten lava, most of which still hadn't cooled. The air around him was a choking poison smog, which would've most likely killed the Ninth Prince near instantly, if he wasn't a member of the Naag, with near-blanket poison immunity. Faceless spirits capered around him, posing no threat to the Ninth Prince himself, but deadly to most lesser Qi Gathering cultivators. And, of course, there were enormous iron spikes and slivers nearly everywhere, most of which had a familiar aura.
But none of that was what made the Ninth Prince wish he hadn't opened his eyes. No, what made him do that was the fate of his companions, his beast partners, his friends.
Ulo was speared through with an enormous iron pillar that suspended him vertically, going through his tail before finally emerging from the top of his skull. Kha, Li, and Ya pierced through with a three-pronged pillar, one prong going through each throat, leaving them hanging in the air. Raj was impaled by a long, thin pillar straight through his brain.
But that wasn't possible now was it? Ulo, Kha, Li, and Ya, and Raj couldn't be dead. That was unfeasible, unheard of, one hundred percent unbelievable. There was
no way they'd be dead.
The Ninth Prince couldn't lose any more family. Hadn't he already suffered enough?
Just out of curiosity, because
of course everyone was alive, the Ninth Prince checked the mindweb, delving deep inside the mental link to just do a quick, routine check of everyone's vitals.
And as he did, the Ninth Prince most certainly did
not sigh in relief as he saw that everyone was alive, crippled, but alive. Why would he? It wasn't like this was unexpected.
Well, now that
that completely routine and not at all worrying check in was completed, the Ninth Prince needed to figure out what to do about his crippling. Originally, he was planning on just pulling himself off this pillar and crawling his way back to Pleuron (which the Ninth Prince was delighted to realize was still standing. For a few seconds. After that, the Ninth Prince mentally slapped himself, because
of course Pleuron still stood,
The Ninth Prince (and a dozen or so other people, but everyone knew who the
true savior had been) had defended it!), but looking at the pillar, he had a much better idea.
The Ninth Prince sent a quick pulse through the mindweb, informing his contracted beasts of what he was going to attempt, and counseling them to attempt the same. After receiving hazy responses from everyone, the Ninth Prince began to get to work. The last thought in his mind before the Ninth Prince began the arduous task of reconstructing his body, bloodline and all, (beyond, weirdly, a craving for mangoes, one that'd been going on for about eight decades at this point. Apparently it was nearly
impossible to find mangoes in the Third Sea. Who knew?) was that this was going to take a
while.
Year One
Flesh grows and shifts, warping, changing, knitting together, hundreds of 'minor' wounds, each more than enough to kill a lesser cultivator, being healed as if they were nothing. The Ninth Prince's body shrivels and withers, the life force of the last heir of the Naag straining as it is pushed to its absolute limit in order to keep the refugee from another sea alive.
By the end of the healing process, the Ninth Prince's vital energy is one step from being fully consumed, completely depleted. There is no possible way it would be able to go further, be pushed any more.
And then it does. And then it is.
Against all odds, defying all possible reason and rationale, the Ninth Prince's guttering drips of life force are expended even further, as somehow, some way, out of the stump that is the Ninth Prince's left leg, flesh and muscle and bone begins to grow. It is small, it is barely anything, but it is there.
And as this miraculous regeneration begins, the iron pillar the Ninth Prince is impaled on slowly begins to shrink, the mystical iron being consumed.
And a single iron stake, in the shape of a snake fang, black and crude and carved with rough glyphs that grow a sickly green, falls to the floor, pulsing in time with the Ninth Prince's heartbeat.
Year Two
The Ninth Prince's flesh and bones and muscles continue to grow and shift and lengthen, at this point being fueled by nothing more than sheer will, determination, and more than a little bit of spite.
The Naag's leg is already being reconstituted, up to the knee in fact, and the growth there shows no signs of stopping or weakening, even as the last droplets of life force leave the prince from another sea's body, leaving him barely more than a shriveled mass of skin and bones, a miracle being the only possible reason that this man is alive.
And yet his body keeps on healing, the wound around the iron pillar closing even as the iron pillar shrinks, the Ninth Prince drawing from yet another hidden reserve of life energy and strength to keep on pushing himself, using anything - everything - he has in order to keep surviving.
And, once again, as this regeneration continues, beyond all rhyme or reason, the iron pillar currently piercing the Ninth Prince's stomach and most of his vital organs slowly keeps on shrinking, the qi within the iron disappearing as the metal does.
And, once again, a single iron stake, in the shape of a snake fang, black and crude and carved with rough glyphs that grow a sickly green, falls to the floor, joining its sibling already on the ground, thrumming in the same rhythm as the Ninth Prince's heartbeat.
Year Three
Bone and skin and muscle and flesh continue to grow and increase and be created using heavens know what from heavens know where. There is no reason for the Ninth Prince to be alive.
His life force, once mere droplets, is now extinguished. His muscles are nonexistent. His bones are brittle, infinitely close to breaking even under the meager weight placed on them by the Ninth Prince's paper-thin skin.
And yet Anush Naag still lives, and the Ninth Prince still breathes, through punctured lungs and acidic blood, but he breathes nonetheless.
The Ninth Prince's leg is fully reconstructed, joints and bone and skin and flesh all fully functional, from the top of his thigh to the tips of his toes. Of course, the state of said leg is the same as the rest of his body - that is to say, barely alive.
And, for the third time, as the miraculous regeneration and not-so-miraculous depletion of vitality finishes, the iron pillar currently piercing the Ninth Prince's stomach and most of his vital organs slowly keeps on shrinking, the qi within the iron disappearing as the metal does.
And, for the third time, a single iron stake, in the shape of a snake fang, black and crude and carved with rough glyphs that grow a sickly green, falls to the floor, joining its twins on the pockmarked earth, humming in the same pitch as the Ninth Prince's heartbeats.
Year Four
Wires and lines and channels of iron begin inching their way across the Ninth Prince's chest, radiating outwards from the iron pillar, creating a spiderweb of black lines that thrum with the power of the Fifth Sea.
And around the iron slowly sinking its way into the Ninth Prince's body, nothing more than a few centimeters radius around each wire, the flesh and bone and skin of the Ninth Prince begins to revitalize, filling up with vital energy being carried by the Iron Qi within the pillar-wires.
Slowly, ever so slowly, as the iron permeates every portion of the Ninth Prince's body that it can, bone becomes stronger and less brittle, muscle begins to reappear, wilted fibers brimming with new life, skin becomes thicker, organs begin to function once more, and the pool of life force that now runs empty begins to be filled once more.
And, for the fourth time, as the iron pierces every portion of the Lord of Ten Thousand Serpents that it can, the iron pillar currently impaling the Ninth Prince's stomach and most of his vital organs slowly keeps on shrinking, the pillar diverting more and more of its mass into the body of the Terror of Jharkhand.
And, for the fourth time, a single iron stake, in the shape of a snake fang, black and crude and carved with rough glyphs that this time glow a sickly grey, falls to the floor, joining the three green stakes on the scarred land, resonating with the renewed vital force of the Ninth Prince's heartbeats.
Year Five
The iron that now penetrates the Ninth Prince's body slowly, ever so slowly, begins to dissolve, Iron Qi of unimaginable potency beginning to enter his meridians and dantian and flesh and blood on an unprecedented scale.
As this Iron Qi permeates the Ninth Prince's body, it brings with it life, finishing the process of rejuvenation the wires started earlier, bringing the Ninth Prince's body back to its pre-Pleuron state, tinting his skin with grey.
Eventually, the Iron Qi runs into the last droplets of the Ninth Prince's original life force, and thus, the original Naag Bloodline, quickly recovering with the new injection of vital energy.
An Iron Pillar that exists beyond space and time and pierces through the void wages a war against a Dragon of Poison that has eaten gods.
The two bloodlines go to war within the Ninth Prince, reopening his injuries but immediately closing them with potent regenerative powers, accomplishing absolutely nothing other than putting the Ninth Prince through unimaginable agony.
And, for the fifth time, as the iron wires dissolve and a Pillar wars with a Dragon, the iron pillar currently impaling the Ninth Prince's stomach and most of his vital organs slowly keeps on shrinking, the pillar diverting more and more of its Qi into the body of the new Lord of the Naag, in order to win a war with unimaginable importance.
And, for the fifth time, a single iron stake, in the shape of a snake fang, black and crude and carved with rough glyphs that glow a sickly grey, falls to the floor, joining the three green stakes and its grey twin on the broken battlefield, thundering along with the warring powers that weaken the Ninth Prince's heartbeats.
Year Six
Two beings with power far beyond the Third Sea wage a proxy war within the body of a Qi Gathering cultivator, and somehow the Ninth Prince's body isn't torn apart.
It's a close thing, oh how close it is, but the regenerative powers of both the bloodline of the iron pillar and the bloodline of the naag manage to keep the Ninth Prince's body together even as they destroy it with the power of iron and venom.
The dragon coils around the pillar, biting and clawing and working its way inwards, to the pillar's core, creating millions of tiny cracks that it wriggles through. The pillar seals those cracks, trapping the dragon within it, even as the dragon permeates more and more of the pillar, and the pillar keeps on sealing the dragon inside.
Slowly, ever so slowly, an equilibrium begins to form, and venom begins to permeate iron, even as iron begins to contain venom.
And, for the sixth time, as the Iron Pillar wars with the Venom Dragon, and then the two slowly begin to make peace, the iron pillar currently impaling the Ninth Prince's stomach and most of his vital organs slowly keeps on shrinking, the pillar diverting more and more of its Qi into the body of the refugee from another sea, in order to keep pace with the dragon.
And, for the sixth time, a single iron stake, in the shape of a snake fang, black and crude and carved with rough glyphs that glow a sickly grey, falls to the floor, joining the three green stakes and its grey twins on the destroyed earth, buzzing along with the powers that begin to reach an understanding, reflected in the Ninth Prince's heartbeats.
Year Seven
The Iron Pillar and the Venom Dragon, seeing that both of them are equally matched, slowly begin to strike an accord. The battle begins to wind down, as the fractions of the two entities that are currently waging war begin to be occupied by other, far more important, matters that a Qi Gathering whelp. Said matters being literally anything else.
And as the two wills animating both bloodlines fade away, the two bloodlines, very close in power, begin to merge.
Iron wires pierce droplets of venom, even as venom droplets imbue themselves within pieces of iron. Snake scales slowly gain a metallic sheen, and skin gains a greenish-grey tinge, a tinge shot through with streaks of sickly green, as venomous iron is forged into the Ninth Prince's body, with the venom acting as the hammer and the pillar as the anvil. The Orb of Shesha itself changes, as the general clan archives are pushed to the side, and a section relating to a mutated bloodline is pushed to the forefront
Soon, the Naag bloodline is changed, mutated, into a fusion of iron and snake, an incredibly powerful and incredibly rare subset of the Naag bloodline, the Venomsteel bloodline.
And, for the seventh time, as the Iron Pillar fuses with the Venom Dragon, and the two become one, the iron pillar currently impaling the Ninth Prince's stomach and most of his vital organs slowly keeps on shrinking, the pillar diverting more and more of its Qi into the body of the refugee from another sea, resonating with the Ninth Prince.
And, for the seventh time, a single iron stake, in the shape of a snake fang, black and crude and carved with rough glyphs that glow a sickly grey and a sickly green, falls to the floor, joining the three green and three grey stakes on the warped land, pulsing in time with the iron in the Ninth Prince's heartbeats.
Now, theoretically, seven years would be enough. The Ninth Prince could pull himself off the pillar, and go on with his life. But the Ninth Prince's new Venomsteel bloodline was trying to tell him something, telling him to stay on the pillar for just a few years more.
And honestly, the Ninth Prince was fine with listening to his body. It seemed like a good thing to do.
So, the Ninth Prince began to meditate, seeking the answer that his blood had assured him was there.
Year Eight
The Ninth Prince meditates, looking deep within the iron pillar and deep within himself, searching for
something, even if he's not exactly sure what yet. For months, he finds nothing, no matter how hard he searches, how long he looks.
Then, the Ninth Prince takes a look at the pillar he's still impaled on, and he
sees it. The pillar here is nothing more than a fragment of a much larger entity, powerful enough to split open space and pierce through the void.
There's still a connection between the two, the original and the representation, and that connection is what the Ninth Prince uses, his soul travelling between seas with the power of his bloodline, and eventually reaching something magnificent.
An enormous iron pillar, carved with strange runes and ancient glyphs from a land before the dawn of time, large enough to cover the horizon, so that all the Ninth Prince can see is metal and qi and an item older than dynasties.
On that pillar are hundreds of millions of words, of names, all crossed out in one way or another, all but one. The Ninth Prince can't read that name, for the language it is written in is a language that exists outside of time, but he still knows it's there.
The Ninth Prince feels awe, but also confusion. Seeing this pillar can't be the only reason he stayed impaled on a pillar for an extra year, right?
And, for the eighth time, as the Ninth Prince enters a space beyond space and a time beyond time, and witnesses an object beyond both, the iron pillar currently impaling the Ninth Prince's stomach and most of his vital organs slowly keeps on shrinking, the pillar being used to fuel the Ninth Prince's journey.
And, for the eighth time, a single iron stake, in the shape of a snake fang, black and crude and carved with rough glyphs that glow a sickly grey and a sickly green, falls to the floor, joining the three green and three grey stakes, as well as its multicolored twin, on the devastated soil, thrumming with the power of the Ninth Prince's heartbeats.
Year Nine
The Ninth Prince meditates upon the mysteries of the iron pillar, trying to attune himself to its qi.
Eventually, after months, he succeeds. The Iron Pillar's qi is unusual, filled with attributes that make the Ninth Prince's head hurt when he thinks about them, but the elements of the Iron Pillar's qi, or really, even the Iron Pillar's qi at all, aren't important.
What's important is a golden-green thread, stretching from the pillar all the way to the Third Sea. it's one of thousands, but this one seems to be one of the more important ones, larger and stronger than all the rest, and more than that, it
promises something to the Ninth Prince, a promise that, if he just followed that thread back to its starting point, back to the fifth sea, he could stay there.
A promise of home.
But that place isn't home anymore, now is it?
Home is a clan that took him in, even when it really didn't need to. Home is a place where vendors toss him fruit and children ask to ride on his shoulders. Home is a village with more criminals than honest citizens and an old man who worries too much about his health. Home is twelve people who know his secret and still consider him a friend. Home is the Golden Devil Clan, not the Fifth Sea.
That thread won't bring him home.
So, with a smile on his face and absolutely no hesitation, the Ninth Prince reaches out with a single clawed finger (his middle finger - it seemed appropriate), and cuts the thread.
Immediately, the Ninth Prince is catapulted back into his body.
And, for the ninth time, for the last time, as the Ninth Prince cuts a thread and comes back home, the iron pillar currently impaling the Ninth Prince's stomach and most of his vital organs slowly shrinks down to nothing, the pillar's energy finally being used up.
And, for the ninth time, for the last time, a single iron stake, in the shape of a snake fang, black and crude and carved with rough glyphs that glow a sickly grey and a sickly green, falls to the floor, joining the three green and three grey stakes, as well as its multicolored twins, on the uneven ground, humming with the melody of the Ninth Prince's heartbeats.
----------------------------------------------------
The Ninth Prince picked himself up from his current face-down position on the scarred earth, and began looking around for his things. The Jade Blood Beauty Puppet was easy to find, seeing as it was a scant few feet away from him, and the Ninth Prince quickly injected just enough qi into the puppet to turn it back into its portable form, which he then picked up and stored in one of his many, many pockets.
His spear, on the other hand, was a bit harder to pick up, seeing as its head was melted into so much slag, and its haft was split into thousands of pieces then scattered all across the battlefield.
Well fuck.
Still, that was
probably easy enough to fix, at least according to his bloodline. The Ninth Prince flexed his muscles and his qi in a very specific pattern, and, in a flash of light, an iron replica of his spear appeared in his right hand.
Well, this would be
very handy.
As the Ninth Prince began to head on over to see what happened with his contracted beasts, he nearly tripped over a collection of iron stakes with strange glyphs on them. He wasn't exactly sure what those stakes were
for, but they seemed important, so he picked them up, and stowed them away for later.
Now, with all that out of the way, the Ninth Prince headed over to check on how everyone else was doing. He was sure that they were doing fine, but it never hurt to check.
Of course, as soon as the Ninth Prince started moving, he was mobbed by his contracted beasts, who seemed to have gone through similar changes to him.
Ulo's scales had an undercurrent of metallic grey, and his body as a whole had large streaks of grey branching off the large blackish grey line down the middle of his back.
Kha, Li, and Ya all had rings of blackish grey around their throat, with small grey 'wires' spiralling around their scales, originating from the rings.
Raj had a large circle of blackish grey on top of his head, and hundreds of tinier spots all over his body, connected to the original by small grey lines.
The Ninth Prince sighed (not in relief, because why would he be relieved that his friends were okay? This was after all the expected result) as he saw that everyone was okay.
Then, he jumped up onto Ulo's head, waited for Kha, Li, and Ya to curl around his spear and for raj to curl around his forehead, and then, using a mixture of telepathy, months of training, careful foot positioning, and pointing his spear in the direction he wanted to go, the Ninth Prince had Ulo speed onwards, onwards to Pleuron.
He couldn't
wait to see everyone again!
----------------------------------------------------
Well.
This was surprisingly fun!
The Ninth Prince had sped onwards to the Gate of Pleuron! Before realizing that apparently, the Gate of Pleuron had been moved, most likely because of all of the dead bodies in front of it. After about an hour of arguing with Ulo about directions, the Ninth Prince
finally made it to the gate, which was surprisingly active for a city that nearly died less than ten years ago.
That didn't really matter though, because there was no amount of foot traffic that would stop the Ninth Prince from achieving his goal! Said goal of course being to make a proper dramatic entrance.
And he didn't even have to dodge mortals to do it! Surprisingly (but in a pleasant sort of way), the mortals had already stepped back from him, leaving the Ninth Prince a perfect path straight down the middle of the road.
Of course, some of these mortals had let their excitement get the better of them, and were still moving back, but that was to be expected from mortals. No control over their emotions and all.
As the Ninth Prince made it into the gate, he was
surrounded! By
guards! How adorable! They were only in the fifth heavenstage, and none of them could be older than sixty!
Ah, youth. The Ninth Prince remembered when
he was in the fifth heavenstage. It was only for half a year of course, before he managed to accumulate enough qi to go further, but the fifth heavenstage was fun. Not as fun as the seventh, but that was to be expected.
Oh, silly him! He'd completely zoned out while the leader was giving his speech. Eh, it probably wasn't that important. The Ninth Prince leaned down and patted the leaders head, before tossing everyone surrounding him a blood-red fruit. "All right, you've had your fun. Here's a nightshade apple for each of you, twenty years of cultivation in a day. Run along now, I've got some business to attend to!"
Heading towards where the screams about a giant snake were coming from, Ferenike leapt over a building and landed in the street. There was indeed a giant snake, with a man made of greenish iron on top of it.
She knew that aura well, and the bombastic snake-ness was unmistakable. She crossed her arms as she stared up at him. "Well you're in fine spirits Ninth Prince." She said, voice the clear ring of metal on metal
The Ninth Prince smiled, fangs bared for a fraction of a second, as he waved to his friend. "Ah! Hello Ferenike! Are these young ones your minions? They show excellent initiative!"
She shrugged. "You lot! Let this senior in, he's a friend of mine!" She rolled her shoulders and then her face brightened. "You've been down for nine years, you're probably hungry and I know a great noodle place three streets over. Wanna eat?" She asked him.
Well! That sounded amazing!
The Ninth Prince hopped of Ulo, and made his way over to the other member of the Indomnitable Thirteen. "Ferenike, my friend, I can honestly say I would love nothing more!"
As the guards under her command dispersed she turned and led her fellow acquaintance through a maze of defensively designed streets to find a little shop tucked away into the bottom floor of a five story building.
She popped in the door. "Hao! Table for two and bring the strong drinks." She hollered as she walked into the lantern lit room and settled at a table in one corner.
"No problem Ferenike!" An old voice hollered back.
She waved at the other chair. "If you want, Hao might be able to get food for your other snakes, though it'll take him a minute." She leaned back and laid her hands on her stomach.
The Ninth Prince plopped himself down on the chair next to Ferenike, reveling in the feeling of actually being able to
sit down, instead of being hung on a pillar. "I appreciate the offer, but no, that won't be necessary. Frankly, with them being part iron, I'm not even sure that any of my contracted beasts
eat anymore. If they do, well, they're snakes. As long as we aren't here for more than a week, they should be fine."
Then, the Ninth Prince turned to look over to Ferenike. "Well. It's been nine years, huh? What've you been doing in all that time?"
She smiled, red glass teeth flashing in the lantern light. "How about this Naag, we trade stories? I tell you what has occupied my time, and you tell me why you can now make a good run at being a temple statue."
At that moment an old man came out of the doorway into the back, nearly bent double with age but the bearer of muscular arms, which held two massive bowls of noodles on one arm, and a pair of wine bottles in the other hand.
"Your noodles masters." He creaked.
"Thank you sir Hao." She said as she took her own bowl and wine bottle. She tilted a brow at the Ninth Prince. "Hao doesn't mind if you drink straight from the bottle here. So have at it." She fit word to action.
The Ninth Prince smiled. It was not a nice smile. "Well, Ferenike, that sounds like a plan, and I am
more than happy to trade stories with you. But, what say you about making things a bit more
interesting? Care to try your hand at a drinking competition?"
She blinked, then laughed, light glowing in her throat for a moment. "Sure! Why not! You rascal. Hao! More drinks!" She bellowed.
"Yes mistress!" He hollered back from the back room.
The Ninth Prince snatched a bottle and, in one go, downed half of its contents, before wiping his mouth, with a slightly unhinged grin on his face.
He leaned forwards, towards Ferenike. "Well! You want to hear about why I look like I'm made of metal? It all started on the day of the whole Pleuron thing, which I assume we pulled off, seeing as this city is still standing and I'm still alive, when I got impaled by an iron pillar, after losing a leg.
For about a year, I just hung there, slowly dying, before I woke up, realized what was going on, and decided to do something
monumentally stupid." Here, the Ninth Prince pauses for dramatic effect.
"You see, this particular pillar still had qi inside it. Quite a bit of qi in fact. So, I decided to try fueling my regeneration with unknown qi from a foundation establishment enemy's attack." The Ninth Prince downs the rest of his bottle, before grabbing another one and tossing a spirit stone to Hao.
"And the craziest part of all of it? It worked! Of course, there was that little part in year three where i nearly expended all of my vital force, and that tiny little thing in year four where i was pierced with thousands of tiny iron wires, and the whole clashing bloodline thing where the only reason I didn't die was because the forces that tore me apart also stitched me back together, but all's well that ends well!" Another bottle downed by the Ninth Prince, another spirit stone given to Hao.
"The reason I look like a statue is because my bloodline got a bit mutated, with the whole Iron Qi merging with my snake bloodline, to create an uncommon variant on the naag bloodline that the naag used to call the Venomsteel bloodline, for obvious reasons." The Ninth Prince finishes off another bottle, before turning back to Ferenike.
"So, that's my little story. What happened with you?"
She snorted, having finished her second bottle at this point. "You, are a scoundrel, a fool, and a genius. Good thing you're in our company, otherwise you might be dead!" She laughed.
'Well as you surmised, the plan worked. The elder was too arrogant to stop Magnus from getting his hands around her neck," She made a strangling motion with both hands for emphasis. "And he got flung away from her, left his arms around her neck though. The elder died four steps later, her dao-heart shattered from the poison. I think Magnus has finished building his new arms too, come to think of it. Anyway."
She paused to empty a bottle and shove a few more stones into Hao's hands as she gathered up several others. "There was a whole bunch of celebration and whatnot. They call us Unrivalled Under Heaven now because of that miracle. Things were tight for about two weeks, as the stand myself and Myia and Eirene and Mograine and Achille made on the walls to buy time ran down our medical supplies like the desert drinks water. And I had a bunch of injured on my hands."
She took another drink of a new bottle. "That was quite a bad time, and we lost a few to their injuries but once the bulk of the foundation establishment folks made it to Pleuron and our current acting Legate limped into town we also started getting supply deliveries again. There was one asshole merchant from the Blacksmiths over the wall by the name of Ji. I had to threaten to feed him to Xiao Yi to get him to stop gouging us."
She took another drink, finishing her fourth bottle and looking a bit tipsy. "There's been some other adventures trying to get everything set up and working again. I think Magnus and Amaranth went on a hunt for something. Probably a toad of some variety knowing Amaranth. I've been too busy with paperwork and keeping our supplies and ledgers straight since the Legate has basically decided that's my life, when I'm not cultivating or researching my own work."
A fifth bottle. "On that note I found this dark skinned mango, literally tripped over the thing on the battlefield, which had this iron hard skin until you looked at it from a certain state of mind. It let me climb to the Tenth Heavenstage in one go which has been useful in the aftermath and with my work. I'm almost ready to publish my work on something I'm calling the Oasis Formation which should help our juniors by sharing their vitality, endurance and stamina while using barely any spirit stones. And while I've been doing that I've been researching ways I might be able to help Xiao Yi. No luck yet but," She shrugged and took another drink, wavering in her seat from the intensity of the cultivator wine. "I'll get there."
She rested an elbow on the table to support herself. "Once I get that all published, I'm going into the Qiguai realm. I'm hoping to find stuff in there that can improve it, or if not strengthen myself. You ever been in there?" She asked of her snakey acquaintance.
The Ninth Prince chuckled a bit, getting more and more drunk, not on the wine but on the atmosphere. "Heh. Yeah, I've been inside the Qiguai realm. It's where I got the bottle thing that saved Diogenes. Grabbed something called the Twilight of Regret, or some other fancy name like that. Normally, it makes you consumed by regrets and past memories, but, well, I don't really got either of those."
The Ninth Prince laughed bitterly once more, chugging another bottle, as if that would change anything about the reality of his situation. "No memories means I could carve off a little bit of that twilight and bottle it. Makes people immortal for a bit, but they can't do anything."
Shaking his head, as if to dislodge the mild depressive episode, the Ninth Prince continued. "So! Qiguai! As long as you got one or two life saving treasures, you should be fine. General rule of thumb, don't fly too far up, because of the whole Twilight thing, but other than that, you're strong enough to deal with most stuff in there. And, yeah, that's about it."
"Oh, also. You want to ease off a little on the alcohol? No shame in losing a drinking contest to someone with poison resistance after all."
"Fly? I've heard some things about it but not a lot of it made sense. I know there's a bit where you fall at the start. Also this alcohol is mine and you can't have it." She grumbled as she scooped the bottles on her side of the table closer. There was a
hic and a puff of flame from her mouth. "Mine." She emptied another bottle.
The Ninth Prince began to laugh. "Believe me, taking your alcohol was the furthest thing from my mind. But yes, there's a sort of flying sea, which you get to through some sort of portal. After that, if you fall far enough through the sea, the bottom eventually gives out, and then you hit the twilight."
The Ninth Prince goes for another bottle, before 'accidentally' dropping it, sending its contents splattering all over the floor. Tossing Hao ten spirit stones for his trouble, the Ninth Prince sighs in 'disappointment'. "Well, looks like I'm unable to hold any more liquor. You win Ferenike, good job."
Ferenike squinted at him, and ran a shaky count on her fingers, "You rascal…" Before tilting slightly and then falling backwards. "Ugh. Imma sleep now. Shoo. It was fun!" She said, waving her hand from her place on the floor as she pulled her round hat over her face.
Then she seemed to think better of it for a moment and peeked out from under the rim. "Oh also, now that you're made of metal. You can sleep nearly
annnnnnnnywhere and its comfy!" She giggled drunkenly and then flopped back down and hid her eyes from the light.
The Ninth Prince looked at Ferenike exasperatedly, before turning to Hao. "I'll cover her tab. Also, we're probably going to be here a while. There's no way I'm leaving a friend alone when they're passed out."
Ferenike burped in her sleep, releasing a plume of fire. The room's temperature seemed to be increasing as she radiated heat like a firepit.
After a good three or so hours, a weary Tasos finally made it to the tavern… only to find his two erstwhile companions from the Battle of Pleuron already drunk, a veritable
mountain of casks and other alcohol recipients behind them. Ferenike was still properly out cold - and the Ninth Prince didn't seem to be all there either.
"Naag, would you mind not
completely crashing the liqueur economy of the region for once?" Tasos snarked at his fellow cultivator. "This zone's supposed to be under my family's care, and I've no idea where we'll find the wine for trading now."
The Ninth Prince looked up as another of his friends entered the bar. "Ah! Tasos! Pleasure to see you again! In regards to the wine, well, I have no defense. While I might have been the one to propose the drinking competition, Ferenike was the one fool enough to accept a drinking contest against someone with poison resistance."
The Ninth Prince held up a finger. "But! That doesn't matter now, my friend. What matters is me figuring out exactly what you have been up to while I was so unfortunately impaled. Ferenike has already told me about the outcome of Pleuron, but beyond that, what have you been doing?"
"I was lucky enough to come out of
that mess exhausted but mostly unharmed" Tasos answered - it was clear that Ferenike and the Ninth Prince had little intent to move around at the time, so he fished out a chair from behind the barrels and sat down. "It's been… I'm not sure you'd consider it much. I've been working with my family to get the Colossus Mountain Path in order, and doing a lot of traveling. I'm trying to find a healing treasure strong enough to regenerate or otherwise replace limbs"
Then Ferenike whistled out another plume of flame, and Tasos grimaced.
"You know what - we should get Fer somewhere that she's not liable to burn down the establishment." The archer stated, already making his way towards the woman's sleeping form. "I've got a place in the city - give me a hand, will you? I know you're more sober than you look - bloody metabolism."
"Hngggnggn!" There's a groan of strained metal as Ferenike twitches and then flops over. "Ugh, stupid Hao's good wine…" she muttered and then stood shakily. "I'm up, I'm up!" She grumbled, eyes not open as she tottered in the general direction of Tasos and the Prince. "Blegh. Need to burn some of this off."
She takes a breath and then there's a
pop and a flash of light and the hiss of boiling liquid as she blinks awake properly. "You two go have fun, I need to go do paperwork. I have a feeling my staff are slacking again." She said with a chipper and ominous expression as she walked out, tossing a bag of stones over her shoulder to land on Hao's counter.
The Ninth Prince stands up and waves goodbye to Ferenike. "Have fun!"
Then, he turns back to Tasos. "Well, first of all, you shouldn't sell yourself so shortly my friend, I'm sure those adventures of yours were quite interesting! Second, it seems like moving Ferenike is now not needed."
The Ninth Prince smiles. It is not a nice smile. "Now, as I see it, we have two options here. One, I leave to tend to my snakes, and make sure they haven't eaten anyone. Two, we stay at this bar, and have ourselves a little drinking competition. Care to test your luck? I'm already a little bit tipsy, so you should have no problem beating little old me."
"Yeah, no bet. I'll drink, but I'm not stupid enough to challenge someone immune to most poisons to a drinking competition" Tasos instantly answered as he returned to his chair and tipped over a barrel - empty, of course. "Not sure they
have any leftover alcohol here, though. The two of you are a
menace"
After a quick search, the archer did manage to find a yet-unopened bottle and popped out the cork. He took a long swig, then offered it to the Ninth Prince.
"I'm not selling myself short - but what I do tends to be on a much smaller scale than the rest of you" He continued, following up on the Ninth Prince's other comment. "S'a bit tough to hear about Rina proselytizing around the countryside with a literal entourage behind her and think that me playing administrator does much. Hopefully the prosthetics I've been shipping out and the healing treasure end up feeling more meaningful - but I like to come down to Pleuron, Acrocorinth and Thrake to remind myself what my work's going towards"
The Ninth Prince took the bottle from Tasos, downing a small amount, before passing it back. "Yes, that makes more sense. Still, just because your work is on a smaller scale doesn't mean it's less important. Rina Callista deals with people as a number, population and not much more. You, you deal with people as
people, people with hopes and dreams and desires that you try to assist. If anything, I'd call your work as important, if not more important, than Rina's. People like Rina make sure life goes on. People like you make sure that life is
worth living."
Here, the Ninth Prince laughs self-deprecatingly. "People like me, on the other hand don't deal with people at all."
"Different tools for different situations, I know" Tasos responded. "Thea keeps trying to get me to snap out of the melancholy as well - I get the feel the two of you would get along. And I'm not the only one who's underselling myself, I think - isn't there an upswell on kids named a variation of Ninth or Nine nowadays?"
Tasos grinned at his friend.
"You can't tell me you don't deal with people when everyone's naming kids after you, Naag. That dog won't run."
The Ninth Prince
looked at Tasos, managing to convey both the deadest of deadpans as well as severe confusion. "Sorry, what? People name
children after me? The name I go by isn't even a
name, it's a
title. In any case, this is the first I've heard of it."
"I can confirm it" Tasos said, recovering the bottle to take his own drink out of it again. "Whole lot of children named after the Thirteen here in Pleuron and surroundings. Hearing them try to come up with a proper Clan-sounding variation of Xiao Yi is an experience, let me tell you."
He waved an arm in slightly dramatic fashion, as if presenting the city to the Ninth Prince.
"Ask around. No, actually, go to a nursery - I want to see you floundering through a conversation with nine nine-year-olds named Novenus or Novena."
The Ninth Prince laughs, for ten minutes straight. "HAH! That would certainly be a sight to see, yes! Unfortunately, I will have to decline, at least at this point in time. Recovering from being impaled on an iron pillar takes a lot out of you for some reason, and all I want to do for the next solid week is sleep. After that, certainly, I would be happy to go to any nursery you desire, perhaps with a few other members of the Thirteen."
Here the Ninth Prince lets out a quick barking laugh, before turning to Tasos and asking a question, eyes shining with excitement. "Tell me, Tasos, friend, comrade, has anyone named their children after the
bear?"
"I'm sure I could find one" Tasos nodded and ran a hand through his hair, confident of what he was saying. "Maybe we should rebrand? The Indomitable Fourteen doesn't have the same ring to it, though"
He tossed the bottle to the Ninth Prince, hoping he'd catch it - he'd never seen the snake-charming cultivator actually
lose coordination while drinking, but Tasos was sure that even
he had to have a limit.
"Finish that up - and if you
do want to sleep for a week, the offer of a bed stands. I
do have a place in the city" Tasos added as he climbed back to his feet. "Regardless, we
should at least vacate the room. Can't imagine Hao's too thrilled at the pair of cultivators crowding up the backroom."
The Ninth Prince glares in mock 'anger'. "If Peta gets to count her bear as one of the 'Fourteen' (which I still think is a stupid name), I should get to count Ulo, Kha, Li, and Ya, and Raj, as part of the 'Seventeen'. Still, seeing as 'The Indomitable Thirteen' has a much better ring to it than either of the other two options, I say we stick with the original."
With the ease of long practice and the immunity to nearly all alcohol given to him by the naag bloodline, the NInth Prince catches the bottle, drains it, then tosses a spirit stone over to Hao, before getting up. "You know Tasos, I might very well take you up on that offer."
And with that, the two friends walk out under the night sky, into the city the Ninth Prince nearly died for.
----------------------------------------------------
A/N: This was supposed to be 1.5k, a quick little omake to get the juices flowing. Instead, it's
this, in no small aprt to
@BungieONI and
@Zephias, who both wrote their respective good seeds' parts of this omake. Huge thanks to all the work they did, as well as the speed in which they did it, with all three of us working together, 3k in 3 hours isn't too shabby. (The other 5k was done by me yesterday)
@occipitallobe, I'd like a healing treasure for this please.
