Records of Immortality-Volume 1—Chapter 28: Scales and Shadows
Instructor Inria swept her cluster of glistening spider eyes across the room.
The members recoiled as one, a silent, instinctive fear of being skittered after and ensnared.
'One... two... eight. Eight eyes. So I can transform into a serpent...
Reject humanity, return to...
what was that phrase? I've forgotten.'
Ashan felt a primal fear coil in his gut.
'This world never ceases its horrors.' He glanced at Imla, his gaze telegraphing a clear, horrified thought:
You'd look like that too.
She grimaced and looked away, a silent 'Hell no' in her expression.
'Sigh. Can I change houses? A fox or wolf would be far better than a spider.'
With a series of wet, cracking sounds, Instructor Inria reverted to her human form, the chitinous appendages retracting and the extra eyes dissolving back into two cold, green pools. She ignored their collective terror.
"The [Totem Beast Transform] mantra allows you to manifest the physical traits of your house's totem. Begin with partial transformations.
Now, cast."
'So now I become a snake,' Ashan mused, burying the thought.
'Marvellous. Reincarnation wasn't enough; now I'm a shapeshifter. Couldn't it have been a dragon?' He pushed the cynicism down and focused.
"𝔖𝔞𝔯𝔲𝔤 𝔢𝔨𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯 𝔫𝔞𝔯𝔳𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔥!"
For a moment, nothing. Then, a creeping sensation crawled over his skin. He looked at his hand to see the flesh darkening and hardening into overlapping black scales.
"Ashan, your eyes!" Ballio gasped.
His hazel eyes, rimmed with gold, had elongated into vertical serpentine slits. Around him, his "siblings" were undergoing their own metamorphoses. Ballio's hands thickened into bear-like paws. Rodric's fingers tapered into sharp peacock talons, his features taking on an avian sharpness.
"Now
this
is handsome," Rodric declared, holding his head high.
"My face is far more striking," Dris retorted, his features now framed by a tiger's striped fur, his hands sporting deadly claws.
Damara gently touched the soft red fox ears that had sprouted from her head. "They're so soft! Helma, yours are too!"
Helma, now covered in thick brown bear fur, nodded, allowing the touch.
Imla stared at her own hands, now sporting extra joints and blackish-green skin. Two more pairs of small, dark eyes blinked open on her forehead.
"Disgusting," she muttered.
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'We've become a living menagerie,' Ashan observed, his serpentine gaze scanning the hall. 'And the bull-boy has grown horns.'
Srish now sported small, sharp black horns and a broader nose.
"Enough gawking," Inira's voice cut through their fascination.
"Revert. Sustaining the form drains your Atmic Urja. Cease the energy flow to cancel it."
Ashan did so, feeling the scales recede and his eyes round out. A few members, however, remained enthralled by their new forms.
Inira's brow furrowed. A single dark azure [Combat Bolt] shot from her hand, forking with impossible precision to strike all four laggards, sending them yelping to the floor.
'Hmm. Precise control. One bolt, multiple targets. Noted,'
Ashan filed the observation away coldly. Dris and Rodric flinched, hands half-rising to shield themselves.
'This woman is utterly ruthless,'
Dris thought.
"I have taught you three foundational mantras," Inira continued, as if nothing had happened. "They are the common property of all Sadhakas, regardless of Marga. Your collective training is now complete. Those who choose the Atma Marga will continue with me. Those of the Sharir Marga, with Head Instructor Ress."
The finality in her voice was absolute.
'So the unified training ends here,' Ashan deduced.
'The Order ensures a baseline competency in both arts before specialization. But what of us? The Samyama path walks both.'
"The final announcement: we will teach you no new mantras or kiriyas. Instructor Orrok's class has also concluded. If you have doubts, you may seek guidance... though I despise repetition." Her gaze could have frozen lava. "You may use the facilities for self-directed practice.
My only counsel is this: practice your Sadhana. Reach the Awakened stage of the Bodnir rank. It is your only hope of survival. You are dismissed. Return to your caves."
The shock was a physical blow.
Three months of relentless, structured hell were simply... over.
The silence was broken only by the swift, fearful shuffle of feet as the candidates fled.
'This isn't a reprieve,' Ashan thought, his expression darkening. 'This is the calm before the storm.' A cold certainty, born of his affinity for fate, settled in his bones.
Something
was coming.
***
Later, near the caves, the "family" convened.
"I will find the correct rhythm for harmonization. You should all do the same," Ashan stated.
The sudden cessation of training was an omen none could ignore.
"Let's survive this together," Ballio said, with more force than usual.
Dris clapped him on the back. "I, for one, plan to."
"Be careful, Ashan," Rodric said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "Don't push too hard."
"Yeah, we believe in you," Damara and Helma added.
Imla's voice was quiet. "You can ask for our help. We're in this together."
"I will," Ashan promised. "Wait for it."
They parted, each retreating to the solitude of their caves, their world now shrunk to the confines of stone and the inner landscape of Sadhana.
Days bled into a monotonous cycle. The body's needs diminished with prolonged Sadhana, leaving only the grind. Ashan's life became a trinity of effort: the internal struggle to harmonize Prana and Atmic, the external repetition of mantras, and the physical training of kiriyas.
'This sequence is still inefficient. The energy loss persists,' he grumbled internally, locked in the 4-4-6-2 breathing pattern.
To break the monotony, he practiced his combat arts. A dark azure [Combat Bolt] shattered a puppet's head, followed instantly by a dark brown [Elemental Bolt: Earth].
Huff!
'Casting two mantras in rapid succession is still taxing. I have maybe two more bolts in me before depletion.' Though he hadn't found a more efficient method, he could feel a threshold approaching. 'I'm close. The Awakened stage is near.'
He shifted to kiriyas. A dark-bluish glow enveloped his fist as he struck the Prana-infused stone.
Crack!
Lines spread. He flowed without pause into the next movements of the [Broken Stone Kiriya], his elbow and leg flashing with the same energy.
Crack! Crack!
More gravel spilled from the fracturing rock.
And so, the months dissolved, a fleeting, grinding dream.
Three months later, they were summoned.
The Temple of Sins was filled with members segregated by their houses.
Elder Zarah stood before them, flanked by all seven instructors: Vael, Inira, Ress, Asrein, Yessa, Faala, and Dhren.
Behind them, upon the raised altar, the seven divine emblems of the Asuras seemed to pulse with a malevolent life.
The air itself was thick with profanity and impending doom.
Volume 1—Chapter 28: Scales and Shadows
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