Chapter 19: Medichi – (1)
Two Months Before Medichi Meet Amon:
Somewhere in Night Garden, seven saints sat together inside a room. The air between them was heavy — not with hostility, but with the particular weight of people who had run out of good answers. They were discussing about their future action.
"We cannot just stay like this," one Saint said, his voice rising.
Another replied, "Don't forget that we are a neutral faction," his tone measured, "we do not care what the other great clans do."
Saint Bloodweave added, "Yes. What we do is trade. And they are the Sovereigns, what can we do against them?"
"It is good enough that we can remain neutral because they cannot invade us."
The first Saint who had spoken leaned forward. "Their Saints have pressured us many times over the past five years. Do we just wait until one side grows strong enough to stop tolerating us? Even if we wait out the war, do you think the winning side will simply let us go?"
Silence fell over the room; no one had an answer.
A female Saint spoke up, her voice calm but deliberate, "We all know that we do not want to participate, right?"
Every Saint in there gave a positive answer, even the Saint who was shouting.
"Then can't we send some of our people to challenge a Fourth Nightmare in secret? If we could produce a Sovereign—"
"We can't", an older Saint cut her off, not unkindly.
"You have been a Saint only for a year, right?" He paused, letting that settle before continuing.
The female Saint nodded. The same Saint sighed and explained, " We are already stretched thin in terms of high-level combat."
"Even if we had a Sovereign without Saints and citadels its meaningless."
"And we don't have much of a clue about them either. It might be the thing that will drag us to war."
"And where will you even find a Fourth Nightmare Seed?"
"We can only monopolise underwater Nightmare Seed and a few scraps left behind by the other two Great Clans"
She didn't back down, "But without it, do we even have other choices?"
"The Antarctica Campaign will begin soon. Can't we search for one in the Oceans?"
Another Saint spoke up, "What absurd thing are you suggesting?"
"Ignoring the immense danger, even if we manage to find one, clearing it is not guaranteed."
"We are already stretched thin."
Another one chimed, "We have two Saint candidates, right?"
"We can search one for now, and if those two manage to become Saints, then"
He was cut off, "Do you think other clans do not have Saint candidates of their own?"
The room fell quiet again. The female Saint said nothing more, but her expression made clear the conversation wasn't over for her.
Saint Bloodweave turned his head. "What do you think we should do, Nightwalker?"
Every head in the room turned toward the Saint who sat slightly ahead of the others. He was a young, beautiful-looking man who barely appeared to have reached adolescence — but in truth, he was the oldest among them. He had simply stopped looking it a long time ago.
Nightwalker spoke. His voice was unhurried, each word placed with the ease of someone who had already considered every other option.
"We are a merchant group. We will not take sides - not for now. And we must produce more high-level combatants."
"This is my idea of moving forward."
The room absorbed this in silence. It wasn't a solution. Everyone knew it wasn't a solution. But no one could offer anything better, and arguing against it meant proposing something in its place. No one did.
The Saint who spoke up first sighed, then said, "I just want us to have a way out too." He said, quieter now. Then he said, as if to change the topic, "Bloodweave, I heard your boy is undergoing his first Nightmare?"
Bloodweave looked at him and sighed, "What can I say? I do believe that he will be able to clear it."
"But I don't think he will ever become an Ascended."
The female Saint shook her head and spoke, "I have watched him train; he has both talent and hard work, with enough resources, becoming an Ascended in five years is possible, I think."
"His personality is too meek," Bloodweave said, sighing. "He has no confidence in himself."
"That's because he trains alongside Naeve and Sean. Their talent mirrors his too closely — he measures himself against them constantly and always finds himself lacking." She considered for a moment. "Once he becomes Awakened and matures a little more, he'll break out of that. I think it's inevitable."
Bloodweave replied, "As a father, I can only hope."
After a pause, he looked around the room. "Let's dismiss for now. We'll revisit this later." A pause. "There's nothing we can do tonight. We wait, and we see."
One by one, the Saints departed — some back to the waking world, some remaining where they were.
Bloodweave stepped out of the air itself, arriving inside a bunker that smelled of recycled oxygen and cold metal. The hum of machinery filled the silence. He moved through the corridor until he found the room he was looking for.
__THE WAKING WORLD__
Inside, a brown-haired boy lay in a pod. He was not restrained the way ordinary Aspirants would have been.
"I hope your trial is easy, Med", Bloodweave spoke, looking at his son.
Then, as if responding to him, the boy inside the pod opened his eyes. Bloodweave felt something lift in his chest. He was filled with relief and quickly moved to support the waking boy.
"Don't touch me." The boy's voice came out low and strange. "You filthy old man."
Bloodweave stopped. His hands hovered mid-reach.
The boy's face was twisted — not with hatred, but with something closer to horror. His eyes moved left and right in small, rapid motions, as if he was watching himself from somewhere just behind his own skull and couldn't look away.
"Are you ok, Med?"
"Didn't your dead wife teach you when to SHUT UP?" the boy said, his voice rising at the end. But his eyes were filled with horror. He was moving his head from left to right, as if denying what he said.
The words landed like something physical. A violent surge of anger rose inside Bloodweave — and then, with considerable effort, he pressed it down.
"Do you know what you are saying, Medichi?" he said, his voice sharp.
"Your dead wife got you riled up, huh?"
"The woman who died before your eyes."
"What are you gonna do about it, huh?"
" You saw her die."
" You saw her die."
" You saw her die." Medichi sang. His tone had a rhythm to it – like cheering for it.
Bloodweave said nothing. His hands, which had moved to help his son, slowly lowered back to his sides.
Medichi looked at his father in horror as fear began to settle in.
Medichi Runes
Name: Medichi
True Name:
Rank: Dreamer
Soul Core: Dormant
Soul Fragments: 0/1000
Aspect: [Red Priest]
Aspect Rank: Sacred
Aspect Description: You are the vanguard of calamity, the general of the apocalypse, and the ultimate architect of war. To walk this path is to understand that conflict is not merely a clash of steel, but a grand tapestry woven from blood, provocation, and absolute dominion. You do not just survive the battlefield — you become it.
Attributes: [Hunter], [Conspirer], [Iron-Blooded]
[Hunter]: You are a hunter; you possess what a hunter should possess.
[Conspirer]: Some wars are won before they even start. You weave subtle ploys where every event and conversation naturally leads to an unavoidable trap.
[Iron-Blooded]: The bearer of this gift has a mind of steel. You endure through your stubborn will.
Innate Ability: [Ironblood Chorus]
Ability Description: One blade is a threat. A thousand blades moving to the same heartbeat is a law. You can coordinate yourself and others.
Aspect Ability: Blood Flame
Aspect Ability Description:[ Your life force is a river of dormant cataclysm. To spill your blood is merely to lay the fuse for your enemy's cremation.]
Flaw: Provoker
Flaw Description: [You have an unquenchable thirst to provoke.]
A/N: I have also posted another auxiliary chapter, plz go and read it too. It's important. TITLE: Powers and Strengths.
A/N: Yay, another chapter done. These days I am free, so I can upload more, hooray. I made mango ice cream today. Plz comment and review