6 days until the fourther Tourney

“Hey Taris! Hey Taris! Did you hear? Artigan’s leaving the sect!”

“What?! He is? Isn’t that bad??”

Although the Obsidian Sect was largely isolated from the rest of The Realm, they still got regular updates. Leaving the sect required the presence of a qualified adult–or being one yourself. Meanwhile these adults would bring back most of the recent news through hard data disks that everyone could access in secure ‘technology rooms’.

They weren’t savages that hid in caves and locked away from mortal concerns.

However because of this, there’d been a slight delay with reporting exactly what Artigan had done in Lazhen. Even the adults had been hesitant to spread the information when the elf had come wearing sect leader robes.

Though, in the end, it was impossible to hide the information in the gossip-heavy Obsidian Sect. Now that everyone had been caught up to speed, theories about Artigan had turned into full blown conspiracy theories.

At first the rumors had been that Artigan was a super secret project. Someone raised to follow the Tyrants’ path. It made sense. Despite his crazy actions, the casualty count of Realmers sat at zero.

Surely only the guiding hands of the Tyrants could pull that off.

The confusion came when Artigan started getting constantly punished. Then the rumors evolved, painting Artigan as someone that Lady Gamielle had captured and brought into the sect for forced rehabilitation. The adults decided to help the ‘rehabilitiation’–taunting the silver haired elf to temper his anger. Taris and her friends tried to get the better of him, only to be foiled time and time again.

Then disaster struck.

A great tree of gold appeared in the middle of the sect and all of a sudden Artigan had apparently raised his realm grade by two! Not only smashing past the great realm barriers but through that impossibly difficult realm five evolution.

Some people said that Artigan had already been a fourth realm and while it was still rare, it wasn’t completely nuts. Those rumors spread, right before the whole sect saw their sect leader getting blasted into the enchanted barrier, his limp form dropping to the ground as another wave of red went to finish the job.

Everyone saw Gamielle stopping the duel there. Artigan had tried to kill Larix.

Things became a lot less fun after that. The reminder that Trialists were effectively heavens’ chosen compared to them hit the entire Sect like a truck and killed the mood. The adults then started talking about Artigan’s progress in hush whispers.

Larix was the Realmer prodigy that was supposed to bring the Obsidian Sect into the limelight with their heads held high. Someone who could defeat adventurers while being in the same realm as them! Someone who was deep into the sixth realm!

Even if Artigan was talented or a monster he was only in the third realm two weeks ago. Even if Artigan had completed the fourth Trial–and Taris wasn’t sure he had–that would still be ridiculous progress. Even [Rogues] were supposed to have an acclimatization period if they jumped up that quickly!

It was unfair, not even Trialists were supposed to get that strong that quickly.

It must have been Lady Gamielle. She must have spent countless resources to boost Artigan up, resources that could have been used on the Obsidian Sect instead.

And now Artigan was leaving?! Was Lady Gamielle mad?!

That monster hadn’t learnt any of Obsidian Sect’s humility and spirit. He had apparently seduced Ozyell away from the entire sect. They had spent hours together in a cramped room while half the sect had their ears to their door!

Scandalous!

Lady Gamielle must have been seduced by Artigan as well! Well, Taris wasn’t fooled. Artigan was only handsome on the outside. A cheat that all Trialists got to remake their looks. Unfair once again!

Artigan needed at least a year–no five years and then maybe he could be allowed to roam The Realm again.

Clearly Taris wasn’t the only person to think this.

The entirety of the Obsidian Sect assembled, following the procession of disgruntled cultivators to the center of the sect, where the great statues of the Tyrants stood watch. There, Artigan was preparing to leave. Guests could only leave through the rising platform and either had to face the statues of the Tyrants or the collective scrutiny of the sect itself.

Artigan stood with all the arrogance of a Trialist of old. He wore their sect leader’s midnight black robes with mockery on his face. A giant blue crow stood by his side, glaring at the statues.

The thousands of pissed off cultivators didn’t seem to bother him. Taris knew Artigan could feel shame, she also knew that letting him leave now was a horrible, horrible idea. He would absolutely go back and start terrorizing The Realm with his recent power ups.

Artigan the arrogant elf stood in front of everyone. Back against the statues of the Tyrants.

The cultivators stood, ready to mob the elf into submission.

–

Ryan bowed. Not a performer’s bow, but a bow of respect, a cultivator’s bow. Fist in hand. It made every cultivator stop.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it’s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

“An angry old orc once told me about the importance of telling your team everything. I didn’t get it at first. It was so much easier to lie. To keep everything hidden, but I do understand it now. It’s about giving them the truth so that the secret doesn’t fester. A secret can rot away hidden, when the light inevitably shines through it, it can shatter the very foundation upon which a relationship is built.”

Ryan let Barry’s wisdom linger in the air.

“While the Obsidian Sect isn’t my team I want to thank you all for hosting me in your home. So I will be as honest as I can. A secret for a secret in return. Artigan is a fake identity, created by the Witch Tyrant so I would have all the excuses I need to be as ruthless as I want in The Realm.”

It wasn’t a full on accusation. A crowd like this wouldn’t accept the truth even if he showed it to them. At worst they’d think he was a liar, at best they’d think she was playing 4d chess and it was all part of some benevolent plot. It was better to keep the accusation vague, keep it about him instead.

“I know it may not look like it, but I have rejected the demonic path offered to me. I am trying to come up with a world that matches the original principles the Tyrants had fought for. I hope that one day, I’ll be able to come back to the Obsidian Sect and tell you all my real story with my head held high.”

Ryan raised his head, not arrogant, but proud. He looked at the Obsidian Sect with clear eyes.

“And should the day come when the Obsidian Sect comes out from the shadows. When the sky falls and every single piece of obsidian must be utilized as a weapon. I wish to be there with you, fighting on the frontlines.”

–

Gamielle sat with the elders, eying the enchanted Taris. She felt a flicker of disgust at how quickly the once-hostile sect had become captivated by Ryan. Elder Lindred nudged her.

“You have to give it to him. The boy really does know how to work a crowd.”

“I’d be more impressed if he could hold back from making a spectacle wherever he went.”

Elder Gudriel chuckled. “Sounds like someone’s jealous of the way he’s captivated the sect.”

“What? No, the entire thing was my plan in the first place.”

Both elders chuckled at an annoyed Gamielle. She scratched her ear, uncertain of the future that lay ahead, of the growing tyrant that was already waging his quiet war against her mother.

Despite only being an arm at the fifth realm the aura tyrant extended its tendrils out to the whole sect. Declaring it his, drawing in their attention and–protecting everyone from the effects of [Unrelenting Aura of Intimidation].

Gamielle blinked, then shook her head. Not a single one of the Obsidian Sect members were looking at Ryan in fear.

At least the class did seem to have some sort of responsibility baked into it.

She slapped back at a conceptual tendril that tried to reach out to her.

“You’re still too green for that, you stupid brat.”

–

The platform rose, carrying Ryan and Cerul with it. A slow ascent where he waved lazily to the Obsidian Sect members. The angry mob that had come for his head were confused–murmuring amongst themselves or looking at him with a thoughtful expression.

Suckers.

He turned his attention to the phone in his pocket. Ozyell had finished the song and uploaded the music to his phone and given him a usb drive. Ryan wasn’t sure how to feel about the complete theme song Ozyell had come up with. It was in four phases and the first three parts were great. The second phase was very similar to the rhythmic drumming in Artigan’s videos.

The third phase even had latin in it! Milock had been completely right about it being perfect for boss music. The problem wasn’t that. It was the last section, phase four that annoyed him.

It was all wrong. It was too upbeat and a little too… heroic. It would have made sense if it was about the adventurers that would defeat Artigan, but it was clearly labeled Artigan phase four.

Yet the [Bard] insisted that it was right. That it would fit eventually and that Ozyell would like to be there when Ryan accepted it.

Ryan scowled at the implication.

A hero? That was just wrong. Look how he’d tricked the entire crowd below, Ryan wasn’t coming back to the Obsidian Sect. Fighting with these fools would be a burden not a boon. They’d do better just staying here hidden and cultivating until everything was over.

He wasn’t the only one scowling.

Cerul was also glaring down below. The bird–likely eager to get away from the handsy children that didn’t seem to understand that it was a terrifying Sector Twelve monster. But then Ryan realized the bird wasn’t focused on them at all. Its sharp gaze was fixed on a particular statue:

The Passive Tyrant’s.

Sharing a similar mood, Ryan elbowed at his new partner in crime.

“Gamielle said you couldn’t shit on these lands, she never said anything about another bodily fluid.”

Cerul narrowed its eyes at him, thinking he was leading it into some sort of trap. Ryan just tilted his head at the statue instead.

A lightbulb went off in the Cerulean Crow’s head. It took aim.

The Obsidian Sect cultivators watched in abject horror as a large globule of spit went flying downwards, hitting the Passive Tyrant’s statue in the face.

“You dare!?”

“Oh shit it’s Lindred! Hey! Don’t fly off without me!”

Ryan threw his aura roots and wrapped it around Cerul’s leg. The crow squawked in alarm then stared down at the [Rogue] tethered to its leg. It then noticed the angry elder of the Obsidian Sect jumping off of solidified air and decided flight was its top priority.

–

Once they cleared high into the air Cerul’s feathers shimmered in the light. Apparently, Cerul had learned a new skill during its time in the Obsidian Sect. A trick beyond realizing that it could spit on things. Its feathers started shifting colors, rapidly adapting to the sky above them. Then it looked below again. The tendrils of aura were still wrapped around its leg and it was tempted to try to get back to its old mission of trying to hit Ryan with its droppings.

Then it remembered the punch with the aura and decided to take another path.

It lowered itself to the ground, dropping the [Rogue] and then waved its wings.

Ryan frowned. “What now?”

Cerul then dropped its load onto the ground.

“That’s disgusting, seriously? You couldn’t do that while flying like you normally do?”

Cerul shook its head then pointed a wing at Ryan then back at the dung. It raised a clawed toe and pointed out one claw, then mimed dipping the claw into the droppings. Then it pointed at Ryan. Then it lowered its back. Ryan understood it as ‘if you want to use me as a mount then you have to touch my shit’.

“This is a really shitty obsession at this point.”

Cerul squawked at him, then covered its eyes with its wings, then spun around and pointed back at its droppings with its beak again. Then it hopped five feet away and spun again, then pointed its beak at the droppings again. It repeated this three more times until Ryan got it.

“Your dung helps you navigate?”

The crow nodded its head then shook its head. Not a correct but not an incorrect answer either. Cerul pointed a foot at Ryan then

Then Ryan finally understood.

“You use your shit for tracking.”

Ryan had noticed magic coursing through Cerul’s droppings before but he’d always dismissed it as a method to make it spread in a wide area. He hadn’t expected there to be a legit reason why it had been so obsessed with marking him.

“You were doing it so you could keep track of threats. Damn, now it makes sense. How long does it last?”

Cerul shook its head.

No?

“You’re saying it lasts forever?”

The crow raised its head proudly in the air. Ryan narrowed his eyes but he was pretty certain that the juvenile cerulean crow wasn’t that capable of deception just yet.

He put his finger out, inching closer to the pile. Cerul’s big beady eyes locked in on him and leaned close. A floating [Mage] appeared with a phone, recording the entire encounter.

Ryan sighed.

He shoved his right hand into the goop and then exploded it outwards with his aura. Gamielle was fast, she disappeared the instant it exploded.

Cerul however wasn’t quite as lucky.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep