Waterstrider

Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS

Contrary to my concerns, the trial had gone well. If nothing else, I could appreciate just how quickly the Pantheonic Government could work when they wished to. It was a machine well lubricated with money. Some corporate leaders might pressure us because of this outcome, but with the Venin Group’s assistance, we should be able to weather it. Nahalken had yet to give us the missions he wished us to undertake in exchange for his group’s assistance, and nor had the Hadal Clan for their own. For now, the Redwater Sect had finally entered into a state of limbo, where we had no immediately pressing concerns aside from our dire need to make money. I wondered if this was what it felt like to be a corporation.

Still, I trusted Rachel and Ran could handle the finances for the time being. As far as I was aware, there was nothing that I could personally do about that matter except for waiting for opportunities to arise. I knew for a fact that not every problem could be solved immediately. Still, I was not the sort to be idle. So I had decided that at the moment it would be best to invest my time into our future.

As I entered the room, I noticed that the training hall was almost at capacity. I calmly walked up a small set of steps to stand at its front, on a small stage that had been installed in order to allow all of the disciples to see and hear their instructor at once. When my motion ceased and I looked down at them, over sixty disciples bowed to me in perfect unison.

“Greetings, Sect Leader!”

The words arrived in perfect unison, and I couldn’t help but admire the discipline that Cinto had instilled into them. It had only been a couple weeks since they had first joined the sect, and yet it felt like so long ago that we had recruited this crop of disciples. Each of them had entered into the foundation refinement realm, and had reached the precipice of taking in miasma. The time had come for them to decide which path they would follow in life. I scanned the crowd, recognizing some of the disciples I had bumped into around the sect, or who had left an impression on me during the entrance examination.

“Palace Leader Cinto is currently recuperating from her injuries, and so I will be taking over your training for the time being,” I said.

I spoke plainly, but I could see the shock and admiration on many of the disciples’ faces as a stir ran through the crowd. I waited for it to die down before continuing.

“I am sure that many of you are curious about just when you will be taught how to take this next step on your path, as well as what choices you will be given. Our sect has recently received a new influx of members who have arrived here from many different star systems, and they have brought several new techniques with them. This will broaden your options.”

My eyes roamed through the crowd, locking gazes with many of the disciples, assessing them all carefully.

“A number of you,” I said, “as promised, will be personally trained by myself in formless arts. The rest will be able to choose between the genesis, flickering, and manifest miasmas for your path. I will leave the choice up to you, but know this-” I held a finger up in the air in front of me. "Sometimes, it is better to make the choice that best suits you, rather than the one that seems strictly superior. Even if one of those I choose asks to learn a different set of techniques, this will be allowed. It is something I personally believe, and which is part of our sect’s policy: ultimately, a martial artist should be free to choose their own path.”

There was a moment of silence as I finished my short speech, one that lasted just a beat too long. I was still unaccustomed to this role, it seemed. I lightly coughed into my fist, and moved into the lesson.

“With that out of the way, let’s get started. I want you all to perform the exercise routine that Cinto has been teaching you.”

The routine was merely a shifting motion between some very basic martial stances. All forces I knew of used a variation on these same basic techniques, as they were not oriented towards any specific techniques or miasmas, merely useful for training a fledgling martial artist’s bodily control and their ability to sense their own soul.

After another pause, the disciples quickly moved into the first stance, going through the motions. I noted the momentary lapse in discipline, but decided to allow it. It was normal to be nervous in front of one’s sect leader, and I was not in any sort of ill mood. I could bear to give them a little slack. They were still young, after all.

“Finally getting around to it?”

The voice emerged from behind me, and I recognized it without needing to turn around. I was far too used to the sound of this voice appearing without warning. I wondered just when Rachel had manifested herself, but also knew that it did not particularly matter.

“There is finally nothing more pressing,” I replied.

One of the disciples made a mistake in their form, and I strode down off the stage towards him, moving so quickly that to the disciples it must have seemed as if I had teleported. I reached out to grasp his arm and shoulder, pushing him into the right form.

“Be careful with the angle of your shoulder and your upper arm. If it is too high or too low, you will leave an opening your enemy can exploit.”

The boy’s lip trembled slightly, but he still responded properly.

“Thank you for your advice, Sect Leader.”

I nodded at him, and started walking down the row of disciples, inspecting their motions. Behind me, I could sense an odd conglomeration of energies. Rachel was getting better at replicating a martial artist’s soul to fool our senses, but her best efforts still came across as muted and unusual. I heard her giggle as we walked away from the disciple.

“You should be more careful, Cyrus. You scared him.”

I looked back at her, delivering a scathing glance.

“It is only right for a student to fear their teacher. Even more so when that teacher is also the leader of the sect. Fear assists with discipline.”

She shrugged, taking the initiative to assist another disciple who made a mistake before I could move to do so myself. Despite lacking a humanoid body herself, Rachel clearly found it trivial to understand the ways it moved. Given the way she so convincingly replicated it for her illusionary form, I wouldn’t be surprised if she knew the Seiyal body even better than I did.

“Is that how they did things in the Downpour Sect?” she asked.

I merely grunted in response, not wishing to talk about such things in front of the disciples. I was worried about saying the wrong thing and damaging my image. Speaking of the past had too high a chance of angering or saddening me. There was simply too much baggage attached to those memories.

I passed a young woman who was a bit taller than I was. I remembered her from earlier. She was the one who had informed me of the Justice Officer’s arrival. I spent an extra moment watching her performance. Her movements had flaws, but I could detect hints of potential for grace, and thought back to how vicious she had been during the entry examination. Indeed, I thought, nodding. This one had potential. I might choose her to receive my formless techniques. She would be well-suited to them. For a moment, she somehow reminded me of a frail figure from my past.

As I returned to walking the lines, my mind wrapped up in nostalgia, Rachel whispered in my ear, hidden from the curious ears of the disciples.

“Is she your type?”

I scoffed, ignoring her mockery. Though I looked far younger than my years, I was old enough to be the girl’s father, and Rachel knew it. She giggled again, having gotten the reaction she was fishing for. Rachel was significantly more annoying when she was in a good mood.

“Shouldn’t you be tracking down that… individual?” I asked, intending to divert her attention. I was careful with my words, because I couldn’t simply speak of Shades in front of so many people, and I trusted Rachel would understand to whom I referred.

A disciple a row over nearly stumbled as the group transitioned stances, and I rapidly approached to give some advice.

“Pay attention to the flow of natural energies. When your body is in tune with your soul, it will be trivial to maintain control.”

The disciple quickly bowed to me before shifting to catch up her stance to that of the other disciples.

“Thank you, Sect Leader.”

I gave her a sharp nod and then turned back to see Rachel’s response.

“What makes you think I’m not also working on that? No results yet, of course.”

I frowned.

“Based upon the fact that you are here. I told you not to duplicate yourself too much until you recover.”

Rachel smirked, waving her hand as if to shoo away my concerns.

“That’s not how it works. I’m already fully recovered. That hour of downtime was equivalent to a full week’s worth of rest for me. Besides, just a few duplicates won’t strain me at all. If I really wanted to push myself, I would just summon a projection for each student and teach them personally.”

“If you’ve really recovered, what is preventing you from doing that? I heard that you tried it out once or twice before already.”

Rachel shrugged, closing her eyes with a sly expression.

“Oh, but you told me to take it easy, and so I will. Teaching takes a lot out of me.”

I held back my desire to ask what she was even doing here if she didn’t wish to teach at the moment, because I already knew the answer to that question. Instead, I continued to inspect the disciples, looking to find the ones who I believed would learn my techniques well. Later, I intended to speak with Rachel to determine the loyalty of my choices. While I accepted no traitors in the sect as a whole, I would hold those who learned the Downpour Sect’s techniques to an even higher standard.

After all, one day they would be the sect’s elites.

Basic/Unattuned Forms: [Certain types of movements work well with different types of miasmas, at least in the context of martial artists. For example, a formless practitioner uses inconsistent, flowing motions, while a flickering pracitioner might use more harsh, stuttered motions. However, martial artists at the foundation refinement stage and below still need to learn basic motions in order to train up their bodies and souls, and prepare to summon miasma. For this reason, long ago martial artists created sets of motions that do not correspond to any of the six miasmas, or at least, correspond to all of them as well. These unattuned forms, also known as the Basic Forms, have almost as many variations as there are different sects, and there is one important benefit to them over more advanced, attuned stances. Practitioners who first learned the basic forms can choose to acquire any miasma, not just the one their form corresponds to. For this reason, these forms are a staple of training for any sect that has techniques for more than just one or two energies.]