Lassim’s return to the inn after his day at the docks fishing with Yeher was quiet, the sun setting behind him as he made his way back through the streets of Fogbeach.
The orange glow of the horizon reflected off the water, casting long shadows across the city.
By the time Lassim reached the Stormwatch Inn, the dining hall was beginning to fill up. The warm glow of lanterns lit up the modest room, and the hum of conversation mixed with the clatter of dishes.
The innkeeper greeted Lassim with a nod as he found a seat near the window.
He ordered the chef’s special for the night’s service, which was a simple meal of roasted fish and vegetables, along with a mug of something the innkeeper called "stormbrew," which smelled faintly of sea salt and had a slight fizz to it.
As Lassim ate, his attention was drawn to a table near the back of the room where a group of merchants had gathered, their voices carrying over the general noise of the inn.
One of them, a burly man with a red face and a loud voice, was gesturing wildly with his mug as he complained to his companions.
"I’m telling you, it’s a racket! The damned sea folk are charging more than ever to escort our ships! I can barely afford to ship my goods to the mainland anymore, and when I do, I have to jack up the prices just to make a profit!"
His companions nodded in agreement, each one grumbling about the same issue.
"Those damn fish folk! Damn Sitnalta!" another merchant chimed in. "They’ve practically doubled the fees for protection. They claim it’s because of the war, but the war’s over for nearly a week now, isn’t it? We also barely saw any trouble around here, yet they still charge us an arm and a leg."
Lassim’s ears perked up at the mention of Sitnalta. It was the same issue Lorcan had mentioned two days ago now.
The nation of Sitnalta had increased its fees for escorting ships across the southern waters, citing the instability of the continent as the reason. But just as the rowdy merchants said, Lassim had seen nothing but peace in Fogbeach so far.
Still, the sect war had rattled the entire southern continent, and the effects were clearly being felt in unexpected ways.
"Bunch of swindlers, the lot of them," the burly merchant continued. "If things keep going this way, we’ll have no choice but to cut back on shipments. And then what? Damn gill breathers…"
Lassim sipped his stormbrew thoughtfully, considering whether or not to mention this in his report to the sect.
Master Lorcan had said that Fogbeach didn’t need any assistance, but the issue with Sitnalta was clearly affecting the merchants and, by extension, the entire economy. Perhaps it was worth bringing to the sect’s attention—not to request aid, but simply to make them aware of the situation.
He decided to leave that decision for tomorrow. For now, he would rest and prepare for his final meeting with Master Lorcan in the morning.
After finishing his meal, Lassim paid the innkeeper and made his way back to his room, the sounds of the sea being broadcasted into his room lulling him into a peaceful sleep with its white noise.
---
The next morning, Lassim woke with purpose. He had seen all there was to see in Fogbeach, and his task here was nearly complete. All that remained was to meet with Master Lorcan one last time before submitting his report to the sect.
After a quick breakfast, Lassim made his way to the central tower where Master Lorcan resided.
The streets of Fogbeach were just beginning to stir with the early morning activity of merchants setting up their stalls and fishermen preparing their boats for the day’s work. The salty breeze coming off the ocean was crisp and invigorating as he approached the tower.
When he arrived, the same Spirit Ascension guard from before at the gates was standing outside at the watch position for the building’s entrance.
He greeted him with a nod, "Back again?"
"Yes, but just to say my farewell. Things are pretty good here in Fogbeach so I should head off to somewhere that is actually in need of the sect’s or my own assistance. It’d be better to help all the areas struggling to get back to normal as soon as possible." Lassim replied.
"Very well, I hope you enjoyed your short stay at least. Follow me. He should just be having his morning tea," he said as he led him to Master Lorcan’s office.
The older cultivator, Master Lorcan, was seated behind his desk, reviewing a stack of documents while he sipped on a steaming cup.
He looked up as Lassim entered, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Back again, are you?" Lorcan said, setting the papers aside. "I thought you’d have moved on by now."
Lassim gave a respectful nod. "I’m almost ready to head out. I just wanted to speak with you one more time before I leave."
Lorcan raised an eyebrow, motioning for Lassim to take a seat. "Oh? And what’s on your mind? You aren’t going to try and convince me that we still need help, are you?"
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Lassim hesitated for a moment, taking the moment to sit down in the chair across from him as he considered how to phrase his question. "No, no. Not that. Actually, I’ve been thinking about our sparring match," he began. "The way you use lightning—I was wondering how you developed your fighting style?
It’s so unique and I would like to know how it came about since it might help me with creating my own style."
Lorcan leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "Ah, so that’s what this is about. You’re looking for some inspiration?"
Lassim nodded. "Yes. As I mentioned before our match, Master Volten sent me here as part of a series of missions to observe other cultivators, to learn from them and find my own path from what I see."
Lorcan smiled, though there was a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "Well, it didn’t happen overnight, I’ll tell you that much. My fighting style has been shaped by years of experience—countless battles, mistakes, and lessons learned along the way."
He paused for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, then continued. "My parents were goldsmiths. They made jewelry—rings, bracelets, necklaces, you name it. When I was young, before my spirit awakening ceremony and then once more for probably a hundred years after I finished the trial period as an Initiate Ranked disciple within the sect, I used to help them in their workshop.
I spent hours watching my father shape metal into delicate pieces, folding and twisting it into intricate designs. I learned a lot from him specifically, not just about craftsmanship, but about patience, precision, and control."
Lassim listened intently, fascinated by the glimpse into Lorcan’s past.
"When I first started cultivating, I tried all the usual techniques—lightning bolts, arcs of energy, the basic stuff. But it never felt right. It wasn’t until I started thinking about my father’s work, about how he shaped metal into rings, and my mother’s preference for bracelets, that I had the idea to try something different.
I began experimenting with creating rings of lightning, folding the energy in on itself like my father did with metal. It took hundreds of years to refine the technique, to turn it into something that could be actually be used in combat."
Lassim’s eyes widened. "Hundreds of years?"
Lorcan chuckled. "Yes, hundreds. These things take time, lad. You can get by just fine using lightning any of the normal ways, but I had time as I slowly made my way to Spirit Ascension and eventually my current Spirit Transcendent stage.
A large part of cultivation for spirit warriors as we age isn’t just about continually building power—it’s about understanding your element, exploring and tightening the bond between you elemental companion, and mastering it in a way that’s unique to you. My rings didn’t start out as powerful as they are now. In the beginning, they were weak, flimsy things that barely held together.
But with practice, I learned how to layer them, how to make them stronger, how to use them to both attack and defend; push and pull. Now, they come as easy as breathing to me."
Lassim nodded, absorbing every word. "So it was your experience as a goldsmith and watching your father that inspired your technique?"
Lorcan smiled. "In a way, yes. But it was also the battles I fought, the challenges I faced along the way seemed to always point me into that direction. Each time I fought, I’d be in situations where it’s have been nice to restrict something or shackle things together to defeat opponents.
I learned something new each fight when I began testing the technique as an idea—how to control the rings more precisely, how to bind my opponents, how to overwhelm them with sheer numbers. It took awhile, that’s for sure."
Lassim leaned back in his chair. Master Lorcan’s journey to perfecting his fighting style had taken centuries, and yet here he was, just fifteen years old, already at Spirit Ascension, and forced to try and rush to figure out his own fighting style and catch up.
"Thank you for sharing that with me," Lassim said sincerely. "It’s given me a lot to think about."
Lorcan nodded. "You’ll find your way, lad. Just don’t be in such a hurry to get there. Let your experiences shape you. Look at what you’ve already done so far in your short life and the people around you. When the time comes, I’m sure your style will emerge naturally."
Lassim stood, bowing respectfully. "I’ll submit my report to the sect that everything here in Fogbeach is going well as I’ve seen it firsthand. I appreciate your time, Master Lorcan."
Lorcan stood as well, clapping Lassim on the shoulder. "You’re welcome here anytime, lad. And I look forward to seeing you at the next Elder Summit."
Lassim blinked in surprise. "Elder Summit?"
Lorcan chuckled. "Ah, didn’t Volten mention it? Every five years, the elders of the sect gather to discuss important matters and showcase their strongest disciples. I believe the next one is two years or so from now? I expect we’ll see you there, representing the Sect Master."
Lassim wasn’t sure what to say, so he just nodded politely. "I’ll… look forward to it."
With that, Lassim left the central tower, stepping out into the warm morning sun.
He took a few steps to reach an outdoor bench next right outside the estate as he pulled out his communication disc, and the mission assignment paper from his magic pouch, scanning the instructions.
At the bottom of the sheet was a special contact rune for the sect’s Mission Hall, along with a set of codes for reporting his findings.
There were several short options—some for emergencies, others signals for general updates.
Lassim activated the rune to attach to his communication disc and selected the general code for everything being fine, reporting that Fogbeach was stable and required no assistance.
However, he took a moment to add a note about the situation with the Sitnalta nation increasing their escort rates and protection fees, mentioning that it was affecting the local merchants but that it most likely didn’t seem to warrant any immediate action from the sect.
Once the message was sent, Lassim slipped the communication disc back into his pouch and looked at the remaining stack of mission papers.
There were quite a few other locations listed, each with its own unique challenges and high-ranking cultivators to meet.
"Time to choose my next destination," Lassim muttered to himself, scanning the papers.