Cultivating Talents [LitRPG Mana-cultivation]

"Do you think we'll run into more of these bugs?" Lincoln asked Hector.

"Perhaps, but if Jodie is right, I don't think there'll be too much of a problem." The ones they'd fought yesterday weren't too tough, only requiring a little more effort than dealing with a Hairless Rat. Their exoskeletons made them more resistant than the soft-fleshed cave dwellers.

Lincoln shrugged and fell back in line next to Marcus. The group then pushed forward, crunching through the undergrowth and pushing aside bushes. They ran into a few more insects as they trekked, though other creatures from within the Shade Forest had killed most of them.

The ones they did fight got put down quickly by either Hector or Jodie. The insects had entered enemy territory by coming into the forest and were now paying for that with their lives. Though it made sense. The trial realm had various biomes, and the creatures native within them kept to that segregation. The insects were different.

"I'm kind of glad Mirae is in the opposite direction," Hector said.

While he could take them down well enough, the bugs would prove a challenge for Mirae, even with her puppets. While the insects lacked mana, they'd more than likely hold their own against someone in Gravity Forging-One.

Anything lower, like Pippa and the others, and the scene wouldn't be any different from what they'd seen from atop the hill.

"Me too. You coddle her quite a bit," Jodie replied. "But I can understand why." She stroked a strand of ginger hair behind her ear. Eyes scanning the forest, she adjusted her mask.

The trees shook as the wind blew through them, the thin light shafts from the sun barely making it through and dappling the forest floor.

"Do you?" Hector muttered. How could she understand? She didn't have any siblings. And she had lost no one. Her parents were still at home, safe.

Up ahead, the vague outline of a structure peeked through the spaces in the trees. It practically stuck out like a sore thumb, even with the mist obscuring it. The crypt.

Not something you'd find in a normal forest. Who had placed it there? Was it perhaps related to the Shade Forest? Maybe someone had laid a powerful alchemist to rest there. But then, who? It likely wouldn't be the old man.

Anyone who could create a trial realm like this wouldn't have a random crypt in a dark forest be their tomb. No, it would be something big, something noticeable. Kind of like the Sanctuary. You could make out the top dome even at the edge of the Amber Forest, where Marcus had been collecting his herbs the day befor.

"I take it that's it," Hector said.

Marcus nodded, but as Hector turned back to the structure, a large insect burst through the trees. It trampled by, crushing bushes, and taking chunks out of trunks before disappearing out of sight. A moment later, a Shadow Wyrm slithered down from the tree and landed with a thud.

It turned to them, tongue tasting the air before its head snapped back in the insect's direction and its two powerful arms bulged before it exploded forward, latching onto another tree and darting from sight. Hunting the bug was its main priority.

They were but a few scraps of meat compared to something that was twice the size of a cow.

"Yeah," Lincoln said, "I don't think the insects are going to make too much headway within the forest."

The four of them then stepped past the last remaining trees. Before them, black stone loomed into the lower canopy. The crypt, or at least its entrance, stood firm. Aged metal grates blocked the entranceway, rust eating at the metal. The bars held, though.

Strange. Everything we've encountered so far has seemed so perfect. Why is this different?

Hector glanced back at Marcus. "So this is your crypt. It's not what I expected."

The boy nodded, pulling on the straps of his backpack. "Yeah, the quest map is no longer providing any directions. So that would mean it's in the general area, and this is the only building I see."

"So how do we get in?" Lincoln asked. He stepped over to the crypt entrance. Raising his spear, he tapped the metal grate with the tip of it and turned back to Marcus. "I don't know if we can break this down. I mean, maybe you two could." He looked between Hector and Jodie.

"That would be a waste," Jodie said, narrowing her eyes at him. "We can only use so many fireballs before they have to recharge, after all."

Hector nodded, his gaze moving back to Marcus. "Any idea of what we need to do now?"

"Well, the quest said there should be some clues on how."

"A clue. Could it maybe be this?" Lincoln said. He rested his spear on his shoulder and leaned forward, brushing against the black brick that made up the crypt as he cleared away several mossy parts and vines. Words glistened in the dappled sunlight. "I think it's a riddle," Lincoln said.

Hector raised a brow. So far, most of their quests had been to hit things. Once dead, they'd then bring their parts—or beast cores, in the case of mana beasts—to the quest hall and collect the reward points. But then again, he and the others had been doing only combat hall quests.

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They were simple. Easy in a way.

"Are you kidding me?" Jodie said at his side. She turned, her gaze moving from tree to tree. "We have to fight insects and Shade Forest mana beasts, and now we have to solve a riddle?"

"Marcus," Hector inclined his head at him. "It's your quest. Got any clues?"

"Yeah, I think I do. Let me see that," he said, stepping over to Lincoln.

Lincoln backed away, giving Marcus space to work. With his mask on, Hector couldn't see Lincoln's face, but it was no doubt one of confusion. Lincoln wasn't an idiot by any means. But much like Hector and Jodie, the mental arts weren't his thing. He was better at dealing with problems right in front of him.

Hector shook his head. But with his constant fear of actual combat seemingly growing, saying that much about him might not even be true.

Dropping to a knee so that the words were eye-level, Marcus ran his finger underneath each sentence, taking it in. A minute or two later, he turned.

"I think I understand it," Marcus said. He shifted on his knees, dirt scraping against them, and pulled the backpack tighter against his back. He was going to say something Hector wouldn't like. Sighing, Marcus's gaze drifted between them. "But how do you guys feel about a treasure hunt?"

Leaves fluttered down past Hector. He frowned. "Go on."

—- —- —- —-

"Still no luck, Mistress?" Nyx asked, adjusting herself in her seat.

Emela shook her head, her hands resting on the black wood of the bench they were currently sitting on. It wasn't the most comfortable, and Emela would have much preferred her window seat back in her room at the family estate, but this bench would have to do.

Around the dining hall the Frostkeeps had taken over, people chatted, most of them from her family. Though a few mercenary companies lingered at the edges of the room. According to Drion, cannon fodder could come in any shape or size.

"When do you think you'll be able to actually meditate, then?"

Emela shrugged. "I don't know, Nyx. The mana here is so rich compared to Middlec. It was painful before, but now it's just unbearable. I just can't." Her shoulders sagged, frustration bubbling in her chest. Many of her family loved it here; their cultivation was advancing faster than ever, they said.

Yet here she was, unable to even draw in a single chaotic mote. A practical buffet, and she couldn't partake in it. Whoever had tainted her pills over the years wanted her to stagnate, and they were probably smiling at themselves because of her current predicament.

Chatter played in Emela's ears, conversations of how many quests were done and monsters killed by various Frostkeep side branches. Emela's shoulders tightened a bit. She was the only one in her family so far not making any strides.

Even Noella, the annoying pig, somehow gained some achievements. Now she was stuck tagging along with either Drion or Brom.

"Perhaps we should go do some quests of our own, Mistress," Nyx said. The maid meant well, but it wouldn't work.

Emela went to answer, but before she could, the crashing of wood against stone broke the chatter as a man stumbled into the dining hall, hand firmly gripping his side.

"Has anyone got any healing pills?" he pleaded.

A mercenary, and not one Emela had seen before. She recognised a few of them, though, and he wasn't among them. The chatter around the hall picked back up a bit, some people ignoring the man. The mercenaries who still lingered in the dining hall looked over, many of them frowning slightly.

Much like the nobles, they too had their standings. Respect went a long way among the groups. But what mattered more was relevance, and nothing made you more relevant than working closely with a Great Family. Those selfish fools were probably worried this man would ruin their chances.

A Frostkeep clan member approached the mercenary. This one's name was Amral. She'd interacted with the boy a few times, and none of those interactions were pleasant. Even though he was a side branch, the idiot still had the gall to act like he was better than her.

Probably because Noella had shown some preference to him at the family ball—most of the younger generation knew of their conflict. And the unfortunate fact Emela was to be sent to the Muddust family.

"A healing pill," Amral sneered, raising his head slightly, so he was looking down on the man.

"Yes, please, I just need one for this wound. If I don't take one now, it could get worse," the mercenary replied.

Amral chuckled; it was snide and cruel. He enjoyed playing with the man. "And do you know how much a healing pill costs?" He tilted to get a better look at the man's wound and shook his head, tutting. "That looks like more than just something a minor healing pill would cure. You're looking for a standard one, or at least a major. I don't think you have the points for something like that, and now you've come here depending on the charity of others."

"Sir, please," the man pleaded, his voice growing weaker.

Sickness wormed through Emela's stomach. Many in the Frostkeep were like Amral, and many of them annoyed her. If she'd had more standing in the family, she would have said something. But what could she achieve now? Amral may relent, or he may just stir things up more and share his work with Noella later.

Turning away, Emela focused on Nyx. "Are you not going to help him, Mistress?"

"With what points?" Emela muttered. She then readjusted herself. It was best to ignore it. "As you were saying, doing my own quests—well, that's just the thing. The quests I've completed are mostly D-Ranks, and the points netted from them are barely anything to mention when split with those annoying fools."

Emela shot a glance at a robust man sitting a few seats from her. His blue Frostkeep robes were simple, with a single white line running down either side of the arms. Kurin, one of the many guards her brother Drion had deemed fit to give her—not out of any sort of love, no.

He just needed someone to keep tabs on her and let him know what she was up to every minute of every day, and he demanded that she share her quests with them.

"I wish Brom were here," she sighed, thudding her head down onto the table. Her brother had moved to do a quest on his own the other day. He'd triggered something when he'd cleared his first quest.

Not that he'd done that alone—it was thanks to Emela that he'd even cornered most of those moose. Yet he said it was something he needed to do alone. Was it perhaps an inheritance? Why did Brom have to be so selfish? If he'd brought her along, she wouldn't have to entertain these insufferable idiots.

A crisp slap split the air. Emela's head snapped up. By the doorway, the man who'd been holding his side lay on the floor, one hand holding his slightly reddening cheek, the other still firmly pressed against his wound.

"You'd better beg properly if you're going to beg," Amral said. "Do not think my charity is easily earned, boy."

Emela frowned. She had to say something now, right? If not say something, she could—

The door to the dining hall burst open, and the room fell silent.

Drion, his eyes steely, stood at the door, the icy wind from outside whipping about his hair. He surveyed the room for a moment, then his eyes widened slightly as they locked onto Emela. With a few strides, he was next to her, looming over the table.