Splayed on the ground, Sylar strongly believed that he and Dispersion would have a love-hate relationship for the foreseeable future.

The Sixth Level spell was a powerful defense, but the very nature of how it functioned also made for serious vulnerabilities. Because the caster effectively existed in three Planes at once, any force or energy imparted in one realm could be shunted into the other two, and more often than not such forms of energy became meaningless in these realms. Kinetic force, for example, meant little in the Endless Expanse, as directionality of a vector force was twisted upon itself in the Plane that was the embodiment of space.

Specific counters for the spell existed — hybrid spells that bore aspects of Conjuration or Illusion whose effects could manifest in the Endless Expanse and the Hollow Reality, or arts of Divination that concentrated the effects of paired spells within a specific Plane defined by the casting. So long as these counters were avoided, however, the Dispersion could almost always negate any damage that would have been suffered by the caster, brief though its duration may be.

It did not come without its costs, a fact that was only starting to set in now. In his preparation and optimisation of the spell, it had always been under controlled settings, simply testing to see whether or not the spell manifested. When used in practical combat, however, there was this single caveat — diverting damage to another Plane necessarily meant that more of the caster inhabited that same plane, which in turn meant that when the spell finally reverted, the backlash would be intensified many-fold as they returned to dwelling fully in the Material Plane.

Lying on the ground, he did not escape from the unknown Seventh Level spell fully unscathed. His head was spinning, and he was thankful that he hadn’t had much of a breakfast prior to setting out. Every joint in his body felt numb — not quite exhausted or fatigued, but simply as though his body was unused to being part of the material world and now had to relearn what exactly that meant.

Even now his vision was blurred, and he could see faint echoes of a world crafted in darkened shades of greys and purples that was a spectre of the Hollow Reality. The ringing in his ears was only just starting to clear.

“— Spellsight?” A muffled voice finally broke through that haziness of sound. Elder Yang stood in front of him, he finally realised, and Grandmaster Mu was just beside him. “Sylar Spellsight. Are you unhurt?”

Oh, torment in Planes unending. He would have loved to continue lying down on the ground to recuperate, but this was highly unbecoming behaviour for an Arcanist. He pushed himself off the ground and clumsily rose to his feet, doing his best to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of pins and needles in his half-insensate joints.

It was then — looking into the faces of the two cultivators of power and local renown, and hearing the excited din all around him that he couldn’t quite make out — that it finally set in.

With a Sixth Level spell, he had emerged unharmed from a direct hit by a spell of a higher tier whose sole effect was meant to cause immediate profound damage in a single concentrated burst. Sure, readjustment back to the material world was now taking its toll on him, and if Elder Yang so wished, Sylar’s present state made him an easy target, but it had worked. His best defensive spell, that he had recreated from what he knew of the art, had triumphed over what the cultivators of the Righteous Heart Sect considered to be their most formidable technique.

Mages 1; cultivators 0, he thought proudly to himself. The script would have been completely flipped if any form of martial combat or active usage of qi were allowed, but he allowed himself this small victory.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice slightly garbled. “Just give me a moment.” He hissed to himself as he almost tripped. “Planes, this is much rougher than I thought.”

The cognitive and sensory dissonance would be something he could grow used to the more that the spell saw practical use, just as he had previously overcome the hurdle of countering spells and generating Essence Fields without leaving himself stunned by the subsequent rush of power. Right now, however, he had little fight left in him.

“You are an extraordinary one.”

Sylar looked at the Grandmaster. His expression had been mostly unreadable before — and in many ways, it still was — but his display of Reshamin magecraft seemed to have left a deep impression on Grandmaster Mu.

“I aim to please.” Some effect of his bravado and air of confidence was lost as he promptly stumbled once more. His travelling companions did always say he needed to work on his charisma. He coughed. “Uh… about our arrangement?”

The other two stared at him for a moment.

Then, the Grandmaster chuckled.

It was… odd, seeing someone who had been so intimidating just earlier that day now appear so amused. It was reminiscent of the days of old, when Sylar himself had been up to the mischiefs of his embarrassing youth that he sorely wished he could take back, and Master Rynwald couldn’t maintain his stony facade any longer and finally cracked.

“Need you even ask?” The Grandmaster swept an arm outward in an elegant and refined manner. “My disciples have all observed your skill in action, Sylar Spellsight. It would be remiss of me not to accept your proposal when there is so much we stand to gain.”

“But… what about the secrets of your sect?” Sylar asked. “Are you sure you can just give away your techniques and teachings to me just like that?”

“Make no mistake, Sylar Spellsight; you shall have to earn your way through our collection of techniques as you continue to dedicate yourself to the cultivation of your body. It will be some time yet before you are ready for the most prized and advanced of our teachings,” Grandmaster Mu said. “I have no doubts as to whether you are able to uphold the sacred responsibilities as one entrusted with the sect’s secrets. If you are able to withstand the Hou Yi Shoots the Sun, there is little else our enemies could do to defeat you.”

There is plenty else, Sylar wanted to say. Dispersion, powerful though it may be, had severe drawbacks and penalties. A relentless pummelling was always an option. Still, he wisely kept his mouth shut.

“Ensure that you never forget this, however.” The Grandmaster looked him in the eye, and all of a sudden that pressure was back. “I trust you and your sense of honour to abide by the responsibilities we place upon you. Should you ever break your word and divulge our secrets to another or use the teachings of our sect to harm the innocent, you shall have to face the consequences of your actions.”

Noted. Do not mess with muscle wizards who could crush him to a bloody pulp and had Seventh Level spells at their disposal, albeit unrefined. Sylar’s sense of self-preservation was very much intact even without the Grandmaster’s warning.

“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” Sylar said, still wincing. He turned to the side, where his cultivator friends were now approaching, joined by the remaining Elders, Qiyu, and Jin. “Hey guys. Not bad, huh?”

Elder Hua snorted. “‘Not bad’?” she quoted, grumbling. “You dismantled my Searing Tempest Technique like it was nothing.”

Huh. So that was what they called the Howling Radiance here. Sylar had to admit — the locals may often stylise the names of their spells, but in this case their description for what the spell actually did was more apt.

“Yours was pretty good, though,” Sylar said. “It’s not exactly the most common Spiritual Art, but I’ve definitely seen far worse showings.”

Again, there was a drawn-out silence.

Elder Hua’s eyes were narrowed when she next addressed him. “Sylar Spellsight,” she said, “are you able to use the Searing Tempest, pray tell?”

“I don’t use it that often,” Sylar denied immediately. “It puts the user in too much immediate danger, and —“

“But can you perform it better?”

Uhh… Given the question, and what he had witnessed of her use of the spell…

It was good — don’t get him wrong — but…

“…yes?”

Elder Hua swore loudly, and dragged a bewildered and helpless Zhou Yishi away. “Spiritual Arts training. NOW!”

They departed, shooing away the ranks of onlooking juniors still in the terrace. Despite their curiosity about the stranger who had emerged victorious in the test that the Grandmaster had assigned, they nonetheless hastily obeyed their Elder’s orders.

“Oh, dear,” Elder Yang said, amused. “I think you’ve set off her competitive streak. Don’t be surprised if she returns to challenge you again.”

Hells. Just his luck.

Well, if nothing else, it would be interesting to see just how much control over her own Spiritual Arts Elder Hua had. Without the framework of Essence Studies, such micro-adjustments relied mostly on intuition. Since he was still undecided about how much of Essence Theory to reveal, working with a relatively advanced cultivator like herself may prove to be a good benchmark.

“D’you think you could teach me?” Quanhao could finally contain his excitement no longer. There was a wild grin on his face, and Sylar had the impression that he definitely enjoyed the three bouts. “Teacher Sylar! Disciple Song Quanhao awaits your guidance!”

Sylar blinked. Guanzhong placed a firm hand on Quanhao’s shoulder, cutting his babbling short.

“That was most impressive,” he said, then spoke with suspicion. “You were holding back during our duel.”

That was… partly true, Sylar supposed. He didn’t use anything too harmful, and the purpose of the only Sixth Level spell he had cast — Elemental Barrage — had been more to control the battlefield and to keep Guanzhong pinned down.

Then again, he wasn’t alone in that regard. Back at the Demon’s Pass, he had assumed he had missed the detail back in his earlier duel, but now that Guanzhong mentioned it…

“So were you,” he said. “You didn’t use your Revelations fully back then.”

Guanzhong merely shrugged, a teasing smile on his lips. “We should have a rematch sometime, once you have progressed further in your bodily cultivation, and I in the spiritual.”

Hmm. After holding his own against the Elders in a series of duels with the odds stacked in his favour, Sylar was surprised to discover that he genuinely looked forward to seeing what he could achieve in an even battle.

“We should,” Sylar said readily — ignoring Quanhao’s cries of ‘dibs!’ — and that transitioned easily into what he wanted to ask the Grandmaster. “Speaking of which, is this official then? Will the Righteous Heart Sect and the Nimbrian Academy of Essence Studies be working together from now on?”

“The Nimbrian Academy of Essence Studies Sect, Teacher.”

Sylar looked at Qiyu, bewildered at her correction. Looking between the others present, however, none of them saw anything wrong about that travesty of a name.

He coughed. “We’ll have a word in private later, apprentice,” he said formally, and then turned back to the Grandmaster. “Should we finalise the terms of this arrangement?”

“The Righteous Heart Sect shall provide instruction to you and your students. If we have knowledge of a suitable cultivation technique, we shall impart them to your students at the appropriate stage of their training under the supervision of one who is at least of the Ranking Disciple rank,” the Grandmaster said. “You will have to find your own path forward, Sylar Spellsight, as we do not possess knowledge of the unorthodox cultivation base you have taken as your own. However, you may feel free to consult Renzhi or myself — or, indeed, anyone of our sect — if doing so may help refine your own thoughts of how you may best proceed.”

Fair. Most of the reason why he’d taken up this agreement in the first place was so that he didn’t accidentally cause Qiyu to end up with Qi Deviation under his erroneous guidance. He suspected that consultation with the Elders and the Grandmaster, now that he seemed to have won their approval, meant that he could have some access to their records to see if there might be anything he could draw insight from there.

“And in return? What exactly is it that you want from me, Grandmaster?” Sylar glanced at Qiyu momentarily. “I… might not have that much time to tutor students individually, at least for the time being while I finalise my own school and recruit students of my own — but I will try my best to help where I can.”

Planes Beyond, his schedule was going to be packed.

“That, Sylar Spellsight, I leave to your judgement.” Once again, the Grandmaster gave Sylar the impression of a wizened Archmage. “You are the expert in the Spiritual Arts, and I will not claim myself knowledgeable enough to enforce or restrict what you and your sect will offer us in exchange. I trust that you will honour the spirit of the agreement you have made this day, and hope that you will not abuse this goodwill.”

Sylar nodded. “I’m serious about this arrangement,” he confirmed. “But who is it that I’m supposed to be teaching?”

“I want in!”

“I assumed as much, Quanhao,” Sylar said, fondly exasperated by the excitable cultivator's antics. “Anyone else? Qiyu’s a given, of course — but Guanzhong? Shurui? Yao?” He paused, slightly hesitant. “Xingling?”

They were far more polite and reserved in accepting the invitation. There was no explicit denial from any of them, and Sylar took that as agreement.

“Ah, if I may?” Elder Yang spoke. “If the Grandmaster allows it, I would like to humbly ask to receive your tutelage, Sylar Spellsight.”

…what?”

“Elder?”

He looked at Shurui, who seemed stunned that he was even suggesting such a notion. “My progress in bodily cultivation has stalled, Disciple Qin Shurui,” he said kindly. “Even under the wise Grandmaster’s instruction, I have not been able to return to face my Tribulation. I wish to take my abilities in the spiritual arts further, that I may better uphold my responsibilities as the custodian of the Righteous Heart.”

The Grandmaster nodded. “You will benefit more from our young friend’s supervision than my own, Renzhi. I permit your request to seek guidance from one outside the sect, and leave this decision to Master Sylar.”

This was — well — humbling, to put it mildly. He had expected students to be more along the lines of fledglings to the craft like Qiyu, not someone who had a Soulburn capacity that exceeded his own.

“There’s no need for such formality, Elder,” he said hurriedly. “I’ve already said that I intend to understand more about Tribulations, and I’m certain that having you around will be enlightening in that endeavour. Besides, there’s much I have to learn from you myself.”

In fact…

“That Diamondform and the Shardstorm you used in the battle; and that last ability — Hou Yi Shoots the Sun? Could you show those to me again some time; maybe during these lessons?”

His brows furrowed for a moment, but then the unfamiliar terms began to click as soon as Sylar mentioned the name of the final technique he had used. “I was hoping you might have some insights on how they can be improved, myself,” Elder Yang responded, then his tone turned curious. “Why do you ask?”

Finally — after close to a month spent in the Inmortal Lands, he had a chance to achieve one of the goals he had initially set for himself. It was the Diviner’s ultimate talent, and the reason why many mages rightfully feared their prowess.

Blatant spell plagiarism!

“I was hoping to pick up the Diamondform and Shardstorm myself,” he said. “I know the theory of the overarching structure in terms of its constituents, of course, but the specifics —“

“Your people know the Pangu Holds the Heavens and the Winter Punishes the Unjust as well?” Xingling cut him off mid-speech, her eyes narrowed. “I’ve been wondering — Spells, you called them earlier, correct?”

Uh… he hadn’t even realised he had revealed spells at all, though in hindsight he probably had been quite impulsive in the events leading up to the end of the duel. He supposed there was no reason to hide that fact any longer.

“I know of the Diamondform and Shardstorm, yes; and I could already recreate them based on what I have now, but it would be much faster if I could observe Elder Yang using them to augment my own knowledge,” he said. “And yes, we call the Spiritual Arts ‘spells’.”

The admission that he could learn spells far quicker than the local methods clearly stunned her and her fellow cultivators, but she pressed on with her questioning. “Is that why you were given the name of Spellsight? Did you have auspicious spiritual roots or a divine sign at your birth?”

…

Uh?

“What in the Planes are you talking about?” he asked, completely blindsided by the bizarre question. “Wait a minute — you don’t actually think that my given name is Spellsight, do you?”

Because by all the realms that ever existed, that would be the most pretentious name he ever heard, especially if one tacked on a Mage Name on top. Something like… Spellsight Wintersoul? Hells, that practically oozed arrogance.

He looked around at the other cultivators, and came to a stunned realisation.

“Hold on a minute here,” he said slowly. “Did any of you know that my given name is Sylar?”

Quanhao shrugged and held his hand up. Likewise, Guanzhong and Elder Yang had inferred as much. Jin must have realised early on, because he looked surprised that Sylar had never made it obvious to the rest.

However… everyone else…

“Qiyu?” he asked, astonished. “Even you?”

“I was supposed to be calling you Teacher Spellsight?” his student burst out. “This whole time?”

Oh, hells. For all that Tongues was a godsend, it seemed that it never quite translated to the local customs.

“Please just continue calling me Sylar,” he groaned. “Spellsight’s just my… well, my cultivator name, I guess.”

He really did not want to explain the customs involved in the choosing of a Mage Name. In the future, though, when his students became accomplished mages themselves, he would make certain that they all picked one for themselves when they finally earned the title of Magus.

“Ah, you mean like Mu of the Four Shadows, or Yang of the Burning Lake,” Quanhao said. “What’s your real name then, Sylar?”

Ah, hells. Best just roll with it.

“Sylar Wershin. I haven’t used it in ages, so just use Sylar Spellsight.”

“Sylar Wershin?” Qiyu spoke, the name sounding foreign on her tongue. She made a face. “Yup. Teacher Sylar it is.”

Right. He turned to face Xingling. “Fascinating as the etymology of my name may be, did you have anything else you wanted to ask?”

“These spells of yours,” she said. “They are identical to our Spiritual Arts?”

“One and the same, but there are some subtle ways that their manifestation can be altered,” he confirmed. “I noticed that most of you tend to use the same formation for all castings, though your father also managed to manipulate the Fire Snake in a way that modified its trajectory.”

“Can you —“ She swallowed her pride, and to his surprise, bowed low before him with cupped hands — a gesture of respect to one acknowledged as a superior, he knew. “This lowly Yang Xingling requests to be instructed in the Spiritual Arts, Master Spellsight.”

Yup. This oddly formal and stilted manner of speaking did not suit Yang Xingling at all. He would readily agree to it if only just so he could avoid this awkwardness, especially since he had already offered earlier.

“Sure, I guess?” He glanced at the others. “You’re all welcome too, of course. I’ll need to try out a different method from how I’m taught and see if that helps with fine-tuning spells on the fly — full disclosure, there’s some information I’m still keeping to myself and possibly to my students in the Academy, but I’ll make sure that whatever I teach you is still productive.”

Besides, he doubted that beginning from scratch with the core basics of Essence Studies was the way to go for relatively advanced spellcasters like they were. It would take too long for them to relearn what they knew or held to be true. Already, he had plans in mind to meet them halfway and play to their existing strengths.

“If I may, Sylar?”

Sylar looked at Grandmaster Mu, curious as to what he had to say.

“I would like to offer to have Renzhi teach you of fundamental pugilism and the basic martial forms of the Righteous Heart,” he said. “Before you protest — I know you have little penchant for battle in close quarters. However, to master one’s qi, one must be attuned to the movements of their own body, and there is no better teacher than the forms of combat.”

Just a while ago, such an idea would have felt unpalatable. Mages were mages, not Fighters, and they worked best slinging spells from a distance. Now, however, having witnessed the skills and talents of cultivators over the past month, he wondered just what he could achieve if he followed a similar training regime. Beyond his own curiosity about this untapped and unknown half of Essence Studies aside, the sheer potential that qi and the Revelations of bodily cultivation held were immense.

And if a veritable master at the craft like Elder Yang were the one to teach him…

“I accept,” he agreed readily. “Thank you.”

He knew enough about local customs to understand that it would be frowned upon if he and Grandmaster Mu mutually exchanged techniques without an intermediary. They were respective leaders of their sects — as much it annoyed him for the term to be applied to his Academy — and for one master to approach another to request or offer direct instruction would be seen as undignified. Conversely, to even refuse the Grandmaster’s offer would have been an act of immense disrespect.

Supervising Elder Yang and receiving instruction in turn, however, was perfectly fine in the eyes of others. Iron sharpening iron, they called it. It was confusing and needlessly meandering, but Sylar supposed that even back in Resham, such bizarre politicking and an expected set of customs to be followed also already existed in dealings between distinguished Spellsongs.

He saw several of the cultivators exchanging looks between them. Far from surprise, however, it felt more like the teasing between friends privy to an inside joke within their circle. Quanhao elbowed Shurui in the side, and even Guanzhong had an expression of pity on his face.

“Oh, boy,” Quanhao said,in response to Sylar’s questioning look, a devilish grin on his face. “You’ve got no idea what you’ve just signed up for.”

That sounded… ominous, Sylar thought. The Elder himself was perfectly at ease, his usual smile not faltering in the slightest.

Meh. He would pay it no heed for now. Surely it couldn’t be worse than the rote exercises he had performed during his time as a Neophyte.

All things considered, everything had gone decently well. He might have stumbled over his words a little during his meeting with the Grandmaster, but he had clawed his way back to impressing the esteemed cultivator by virtue of his mastery over Essence in both knowledge and skill. The arrangements had been made. All that was left was for him to head back down the mountain and perform the finishing touches on the core buildings and facilities of his Academy, and then he could finally recruit promising new students and at long last check one item off his bucket list. Ever since his days as an apprentice, he had always wanted to impart his knowledge to the next generation of Arcanists and Spellsongs.

If any of them ever became an Archmage themselves, that would simply be a bonus.

Now that he thought about it, however…

“How does the Righteous Heart recruit new members?” he queried, curious. “Not everyone starts off being part of the sect from their childhood, do they?”

“Many of our members seek out those naturally attuned to their spiritual roots as their duties take them across the settlements of Jinxiang,” Grandmaster Mu informed him. “We offer them a place among our sect to nurture and develop these gifts further so that they may in turn protect their homeland. Others seek our sect of their own accord, and some are also born within the sect. Occasionally, we permit those who have already begun their own cultivation who we deem worthy of a place in our sect to join the Righteous Heart as well.”

“They discover cultivation themselves?” Sylar questioned. “Without any guidance from others?”

It sounded unlikely. Sylar himself barely understood bodily cultivation and qi, though he had close to two decades of experience with the arcane arts.

“Rarely. Some have previously been taught the basics by travelling rogue cultivators without a sect of their own, or might have learned some fundamentals from a manual they found. They are very much the minority, however – in most cases, attempting to carve a new path for themselves without any guidance tends to end in failure,” Elder Yang said. “There are also those who were originally from other sects, but left their ranks due to differences in ideology or because they were forced to flee the destruction of their sects.”

The way he simply said that with a straight face was telling. The affairs of Jinxiang remained relatively stable, a fact he now understood was due mostly to the combined prowess of the Penshan Alliance and the reputation held by their foremost members. Elsewhere in the Immortal Lands, however – even within the State of Wu itself – dealings between sects were far less harmonious, and conflicts between sects were commonplace.

“Indeed,” the Grandmaster added. “They first had to earn our trust, of course; just as you have ours – but they are now full-fledged members of our sect.”

“Guess I’ll have to start recruiting or scouting out some candidates myself soon,” Sylar said. “Hopefully that wouldn’t be too hard.”

The two exchanged mysterious looks. “I wouldn’t worry about that, Sylar Spellsight,” Elder Yang said, the shadow of a smile tugging at his lips. “Talent recognises talent, as they say.”

Hmm. Well, where had that talent been back in Nimbria, then?

Sylar simply shrugged. “We’ll see,” he deflected, and then turned to the others. “Uh – if everything’s settled, should we head back to Penshan? I was hoping to finish up the tower by today…”

“After all that, you still have enough left in you to continue working with what’s left of the day?” Jin chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. He bowed to the Elder and Grandmaster. “It was a pleasure to be in the Righteous Heart Sect once more, honoured elders. Penshan and the rest of Jinxiang counts on you for our protection.”

“No thanks are necessary, Magistrate Lu. Besides,” the Grandmaster said, his eyes flickering over to Sylar, “you appear to have brought a capable individual into the Penshan Alliance as well.”

Things proceeded quickly from there. Quanhao extracted a promise from him to send word as soon as his Academy was up and running, and Sylar could already imagine the headaches he would face attempting to refine their spellcasting in the near future. There were jokes about how Elder Yang would soon have to call Qiyu his esteemed senior, and the flustered expression on his apprentice’s face had forced a second hearty laugh out of the usually stoic Grandmaster.

“I look forward to seeing your progress in cultivation, and hope that the partnership forged today will flourish in the years to come,” the Grandmaster said when they were once more at the gates, as the carriage was being prepared. “But remember my words carefully, Sylar Spellsight. Jinxiang is the way it is today because we do not allow any with malicious intent to settle in these lands.”

Sylar nodded.

“Then may the name of the Nimbrian Academy of Essence Studies spread among the Immortal Lands,” Grandmaster Mu said. “May you have the wisdom to select those who are worthy of your teachings, and may Jinxiang know prosperity with this new addition among her guardians.”

“Thank you.”

Qiyu was waiting by the carriage door as he and the Grandmaster exchanged their parting words. She was clearly still intimidated by the Grandmaster – for good reason, considering how much power he had to possess – and dared not to interrupt them, but her impatience and desire to return to training with him while the Mud Elementals finished up the tower made themselves plainly clear.

“I should go,” Sylar said, gesturing a thumb behind him. “Otherwise, I’m afraid that even my ranking disciple would soon abandon me to seek out greener pastures.”

The Grandmaster nodded. With that, he said his goodbyes to the other cultivators – promising that he would start drawing up some ideas to prepare for when they visited him for instruction – and yet once again in this span of several weeks began journeying down the mountain.

It felt like a chapter in his life had closed, he mused, as he looked out the carriage’s window. Essence of all forms dotted the landscape, drifting in the winds or being concentrated at several foci containing higher amounts of specific types. Just a few short weeks ago, this sight that had so intrigued and excited him no longer felt out of the ordinary. If ever he had to return to Resham and the pitiful state of its Transcendental Essences, he wondered how he would ever adjust to his previous normal.

Cultivation. Revelations. Tribulation. He had some new insights into each of them, but for the most part he still could not yet see how it all tied in with what he knew of Essence Studies. In time to come, as he progressed his own cultivation further, he hoped that some of these questions may be demystified.

The non-academic side of him, however, turned toward other matters. Though they knew that Zhu had been working as part of a larger group, they still had little understanding of their intentions save for that part of it had involved seizing material resources from the Lu Estate and likely others in the region. Were they now biding their time for the right opportunity to strike, or had they fled the region?

Necromancy. He remembered the spells fuelled by Death Essence that Zhu had utilised. Decaying Dart, Horrid Nightmare… they were spells he had heard of in his research both before and during the crisis that was the return to power of Renashan the Lich. His party and the united band of adventurers that had braved Lich’s tomb had been lucky – if the ancient Lich had been at his full strength, rather than the crippled state they had fought him in, they wouldn’t ever have stood a chance.

Necromancy… ever since his days as a Neophyte, he had never once touched Death Essence. It was no more powerful than any of the other Essences, and he knew of great mages who had accomplished much through the potential embodied within the Essence without ever once damning their soul to greed and malice. In its purest form, Death-Death promised spells of suffering, pain, and damnation – but when combined with other Essences, new purpose could be derived from the power that originated from the Plane of Death, where all souls eventually found their way to – the Labyrinth of Eyes.

He wasn’t yet ready to experiment with Death Essence. He feared that part of him – the morbid side that relished in the thrill of battle, combined with the pure academic curiosity to know more – would not stop if he only tapped upon one of the aspects of the Essence. History was littered with the biographies of mages far better and wiser than he who had once thought the same, only to end up as the leaders of necromancer cults that had plagued the lands of Resham with their vile arts.

For now, he didn’t need to worry about such matters. He looked at the father-daughter pair seated opposite him with a soft smile. Qiyu was leaning against Jin as she dozed off, while Jin admired the scenery out the window.

He had new friends, now. His Academy would soon be up and running, and it would know greater success than its predecessor on the outskirts of Nimbria. With the relative abundance of the Transcendental Essences in the Immortal Lands, he was progressing towards the use of a more diverse spell repertoire, and might soon be well able to cast Seventh Level spells. His journey of cultivation had just begun, and with the arrangements and friendships he had forged thus far, he was excited both to see what he could soon achieve with their local practices, and to uncover more of the greater whole that was the field of Essence Studies.

All was good in the world. It was perhaps a little egoistic to say this, but he felt that after a long, long hiatus following the end of his adventuring career, a new chapter in the life of Sylar Spellsight would soon begin.

The carriage continued down the mountain.

For the first time in a long while, Sylar simply allowed himself to be lost in the moment, without pondering about some grand mystery or another.