Dark Hearts…

My movements were not elegant, my hand more suited to abstraction and doodling than anything approaching measured and careful artistry; nonetheless, the wavy, choppy symbol of water made manifest came into being beneath my charred blade. It was smooth and brutish, cold and furious, merely looking at it felt like drowning.

Though, I would admit if pressed that the feeling of the cool water flowing over my scalded hand was quite pleasant.

Less pleasant was the jet of water impacting my face and soaking me to the bone. It didn't feel like the scant millimeters of water clinging to my skin that it undoubtedly was, it felt like I was submerged a thousand miles under the ocean. Each and every droplet felt like it carried the weight of all the depths, as if the sea was reaching out to swallow me from every ounce of water pulled from that cold, cold rune.

I shook the thought off, driving my blade forward to spear through the rune with instinctive spite and gasping for breath as the feeling of drowning left me instantly. I shook myself, splattering water everywhere like a dog and ignoring the snickering I could feel coming from Rokharth.

"Alright, you've proven you can carve the most basic of runes without killing yourself… so go ahead and try out Darkness, I'm sure it'll come easily to you." Something in his tone came off as mildly ominous, but a desire welling up from deep within me took precedence.

Even though that very feeling in and of itself made me inclined to resist, I found myself carving the rune that echoed in the beat of my heart before that hesitance could sway me. My hand acted on my desires despite my conscious concerns, though I could feel that this was my own will and not some external force.

Of course, I was never once to simply trust that my feelings were my own; who knows what kind of bullshit powers could be out there to induce emotions or thoughts? I already know Rokharth can induce disinterest and fade from the mind, implanting thoughts and feelings is hardly that big of a leap from there. I have no idea if this feeling guiding my hand truly is coming from within and even if it is I can’t disprove the possibility that very deep set feeling wasn’t implanted!

Extreme Paranoia +1

I nearly snorted aloud even as my hand kept carving, the mere idea that an external force influencing my mind telling me I wasn't being affected by an external force influencing my mind was almost offensive in its absurdity.

All my fears and doubts faded to nothing the moment the rune flared to life, sucking the light from the air in magnificent display of impossibly radiant darkness. My whole world filled with that symbol, my eyes reflecting it as I felt it burn itself onto my very soul. For an indeterminable eternity contained in a span of moments all of existence faded away to just the glorious wellspring of shadows before, exuding depthless shadows in all directions and yet the symbol itself blazed to my eyes.

Darkness Cultivation Awakened

My soul seemed to surge through me, reaching out to meet the visage of darkness pulsing before me. I could feel the very essence of myself stretching out to grasp at that geyser of shadow…

Just before a long blade pierced it from behind, skewering the rune and instantly cutting off both the waves of darkness radiating out and the intense need I felt. I shook myself all over, horrified by my own lack of control and feeling what I presumed was my very soul snapping back into place.

That was the dumbest thing I've ever let myself do! Reaching out my undefended soul via means I don't understand to make contact with a fraction of a concept like fucking darkness?! Oh yeah, that can only end well! Ugh, it seems prioritizing my physical stats so much was coming back to bite me, not that I ever thought it wouldn't.

Rokharth withdrew his blade with a grunt, twisting it ever so slightly on the way out to thoroughly destroy my handiwork. "Well, at least you seem to recognize the mistake you almost made. There are only a very small number of cultivators out there that can expose their soul directly to their element in its purest form, none of them are beginners." He clicked his tongue, slashing my "training dummy" in two with a negligent flick of his wrist, "For now, stay away from that rune and only practice cultivation with my supervision; it is very, very easy to wind up dead or worse if you don't know what you're doing. Regardless, that'll have to wait until after we go see the boss man."

A grin spread over his face, wiping away the faintly annoyed placidity that had spilled across it some time during my mania. "Lucky for you, I'm fairly sure he has a bit of a mission for you; a proper test to see if you were worth the effort of all this training."

I nodded silently, deciding to actually follow his advice. While I don't trust this old bloodsucker, something tells me it's a better idea to face his monitoring and potential sabotage than go it alone and potentially wind up dead… or worse. I have no idea what would have happened if he didn't destroy that rune, but none of the thoughts circling my mind are particularly positive. I have no idea what’s even possible, but my thoughts swirl from being lost for eternity in an endless void, having my soul ripped out and diffused into the darkness, dying outright and possibly having my soul destroyed, being overtaken by the shadows, so on and so forth my ill educated guesses whirl.

I don’t trust him, but I trust myself around that rune even less…

The fact that didn’t give me another point of Paranoia is both comforting and extremely concerning.

Rokharth didn’t bother cleaning up the room before he walked out, gesturing for me to follow without even looking back. The subtle implication that he didn’t need to check that I would follow him rankled ever so slightly, but I shrugged it off and hurried after him, hastily sheathing my new blade and tucking it into my clothes. He didn’t bother slowing his pace as he walked, forcing me to almost sprint to keep up with his longer stride; nonetheless, after leading me through a labyrinth of near identical hallways we reached an ornate door with the gang’s symbol burned onto it.

He didn’t pause a moment to knock or announce himself, throwing the door open without so much as breaking his stride; I followed after him, figuring it was better to brazenly carry on and blame any issues on him than to be left behind. Inside, Markus was sitting at a large but fairly utilitarian desk, glancing up from a small stack of documents and sending a rueful smile at his seemingly uninvited guest.

“Ah, Rokharth; I was expecting you to show up a half an hour ago.” HIs gaze flickered to me before returning to the far more experienced and dangerous killer in the room, “Normally being late to report on an evaluation is a bad sign, but something tells me you aren’t here to tell me he failed.”

The old vampire merely grunted, “Heh, no no, he passed alright. Not the best disciple I’ve ever trained but certainly better than most of the idiots you foist on me. I decided to show him the standard runes a touch earlier than usual just to see and we discovered he has an affinity to Darkness, even some potential as a cultivator; just enough potential to get himself killed on his own.”

Markus clicked his tongue, "well, we can certainly work with that; a decent cultivator is more than worth the extra training required." He waved a hand, dismissing the thought. "Regardless, if he passed your test it's time he passed a more practical one.”

He turned his attention fully to me, a faint smirk on his face. He reached into his desk, sifting around for a moment before pulling out a thin manila folder and tossing it over to me. “Now that you’re properly trained, it’s about time you prove yourself. Some assholes have been trying to push into the drug trade in our territory; go cut their throats, and paint our symbol with their guts. Let everyone know the Burnpike Lords are not to be fucked with.”

I nodded, flipping through the folder as I did; inside were sketches of shady looking men loitering in a dark alley, a map of the sector had the alley marked on it next to the image. Neat and unadorned handwriting detailed their activities over the course of a few weeks of observation. Based on whoever was observing them, they had been pushing poorly brewed greld on anyone unfortunate or stupid enough to pass nearby; this both cut into our customer base, and made us look weak, made it look like we couldn’t defend our territory and the people that paid us for protection.

I closed the file, “Do you want them killed quick and clean or do you want me to make an example out of them.”

Markus’ faint smirk grew into a full blown grin. He chuckled, lighting up a cigar and pointing it at Rokhart, “Ahaha, I knew I liked this one!” He turned his burning gaze back on me, “Don’t take any risks, but make them at least look like they suffered for their impudence. If you get the chance, impale them on stakes and set them on fire; it’s kind of a calling card of ours.”

I gave a stiff nod, “Consider it done.”