A rose’s thorns curve downward to keep bugs away and to use other plants to climb upward. It survives by suppressing those that would destroy it and using others to climb upward.

~Blodeuwedd, Goddess of Flowers and Wisdom

Crow entered the Shrine, and the other two were right behind him. Inside wasn’t what he expected. It looked like an ancient pantheon he’d once seen sketched in an old scroll. Altars lined the circular-shaped room, and behind those were statues of gods. It reminded him of the plaza back in Oiche.

“Now what?” Hooligan whispered, afraid to make loud noises in this sacred place. Or maybe it wasn’t sacred, but it felt taboo to speak loudly. Either way, she kept her voice low out of respect for the temple-like place.

“Spread out and look at all the altars. We probably need to be acknowledged.”

“By who?” Munro’s brow furrowed, and he looked around nervously.

“The gods, dumbass,” Hooligan snorted and walked off.

One by one, Crow faced each of the gods but felt nothing. He didn’t even recognize any of them and thought he may have made a mistake. Maybe they were only pseudo-gods or people seeking to gather some faith by pretending.

His mind kept turning over ideas until he stood before a woman he’d never seen before but knew it was where he was supposed to be. Vines tightly wove around her like clothing, but they sprouted vicious little thorns. They weren’t real because the entire statue was made of stone. The vividness and details of the statue made it seem so real that Crow felt he was looking at a Soul Carving.

The contrast between his own work and this one was enlightening. The stone statues all had faces, which he hadn’t accomplished. He realized the issue might not be because of his talent or carving ability. The feeling this statue gave him was as if this woman was here and now, watching him. It was so alive that the muse had to have been present to imbue a part of her into it. Blood essence, or maybe a sliver of her soul was left behind.

Crow had already touched upon this when he made the wooden tokens for everyone and had them imbue it with their blood essence. Once bonded, it would know if the person’s soul dispersed or lost their vitality.

While none of that was critically important in this situation, he felt that his study of Soul Carving was still too shallow. Even the wooden ring on his finger might result from that Scholarly Talent.

He wasn’t so sure this was a Spirit Shrine, but maybe it could loosely be considered one since these altars were requesting a god-like tribute. It felt like this was a knowledge challenge, and this statue was the guide. Based on what he knew of Spirit cultivation from the toke he’d received, this definitely didn’t feel like a Spirit challenge.

Inspired by the statue, Crow held up his hand and let vines grow from his palm, allowing them to wrap around his arm like a sleeve. Focusing on the pattern within his body, he forced thorns to sprout from the vines. Some grew outward, but others punctured his flesh and the green plant tendrils pulsed as the thorns sucked in blood and slowly turned crimson.

These vines were the culmination of all his insights toward creating the Blood Drinker Thorns. When the vines changed, the pattern of connected nodes inside his body automatically shifted. Without even looking at the diagrams inside the artifact’s technique, he already knew this was the correct method to open that vine type.

Instead of learning it the usual way, he enlightened himself upon looking at the statue. Learning through his own insights gave him a broader understanding of the technique. This is why every instructor always encourages their students to adapt their ability or technique and make it their own. Comprehension allowed a person to fight above their level and showed the cultivator’s true potential.

“Not going to lie—that’s fucked up,” Hooligan stated while pointing at the pulsing vines sucking Crow’s blood. It wasn’t the ability that bothered her but how he created self-inflicted injuries without flinching. It was disturbing to watch.

“I’m not crazy—”

“Pfft,” Munro was taking a drink of water and choked on it when he heard Crow. Hooligan just looked between the two.

“The vines are part of me, so I am not harming myself. Watch this…”

Crow held up his other arm, and tiny green tendrils writhed below the skin’s surface until they reached his hand. Those vines turned his fist green, and then as they changed into the Blood Drinker Thorns, the red spikes grew out of his knuckles and the back of his hand. There were even tiny barbs on his palm.

Hooligan reached out a finger to touch the thorns, but Crow pulled it back.

“I don’t mind if you feed them, but they are called Blood Drinker Thorns,” Crow chuckled. Hooligan paled and quickly pulled her finger back. “Anyway, I grew the ones on this arm outside my skin because they are the tribute. Before I start, did you spot any statue representing your artifact’s technique?”

“What do you mean?” Hooligan asked.

“Look at my arm. Now, look at that woman, and what do you see is covering her entire body? I’ve been thinking about this Shrine, and I don’t believe it’s Spirit-related. I’m leaning toward some type of reward. Are there Treasure Shrines?”

“I’d say it’s another Puzzle Shrine,” Hooligan said.

“No. We did one of those already, and they are related to Mind. It was a different colored crystal. Also, look at the center altar. There is no statue, just an offering bowl. I think we could just skip this Shrine by making a token offering, so it isn’t even a challenge, really. That is why I think this is some type of reward.”

“I’ve looked at all of them. Nothing resembles Nature’s Growth,” Munro chimed, understanding what Crow was hinting at. However, he didn’t approach the vine-covered statue. He worried Crow might awaken or anger these statues by making an offering. Crow stared at Munro and nodded in approval. The tower tempered the arrogant young master, and seeing Munro err on the side of caution, he felt assured that Mara’s sister was in good hands. Crow still didn’t like Munro, but at least he now had a grudging respect for his old nemesis. He wasn’t the fat, ignorant kid he grew up with.

“And you?” Crow asked Hooligan.

“Nope.”

“You both sure?”

“Positive. Besides, my technique shows the progenitor, and none of these statues look like that leering pervert,” Hooligan said quietly. Munro and Crow stared at her in silence, unsure how to reply to that.

Cough. Munro cleared his throat and spoke, hoping to dispel the awkwardness. “I don’t see my technique’s progenitor either.”

“Alright, I’m going to start.”

The vines pulled away from Crow’s flesh with the thorns covered in fresh blood. Tiny holes in his arm visibly healed, which even startled Crow. It shouldn’t have, considering the vines grew out of his flesh and never left a mark. Still, it was an odd sensation.

He loosely coiled the crimson tendrils, and then, using a small dagger, he cut them off near his skin and dropped them into the offering bowl. For several seconds, nothing happened other than the blood leaking from the vines filling the bowl.

Suddenly, the statue blinked, and her head tilted to the side. Crow felt like he’d just become a morsel of meat, and the cunning fox before him hadn’t eaten in a long time. She stared at him so long that Crow audibly swallowed, bringing a brilliant smile to the woman’s face.

“You’ve embraced my legacy?”

“Who are you?”

“I am Hawthorn—or at least a remnant of her. A fragment of her soul left behind for someone like you. Well… only if you’ve mastered enough of my Blood Thorn technique. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have appeared no matter how much blood you offered.”

“Then… thank you?”

Hawthorn laughed until tears were rolling down her cheek, but Crow couldn’t tell if her laughter was filled with malice or benevolence. However, she couldn’t hide the mischievousness in her eyes and smile. This woman was definitely lively.

“We will have some fun, you silly boy,” Hawthorn grinned as the vines wrapped her body like clothing started unraveling. Before he could understand what was happening, they coiled around him, and he felt his feet leaving the ground as she drew him to her. Only when Crow was in her embrace did he realize the statue wasn’t wearing any clothes. The surrounding vines tore at his clothes until he was as naked as she was.

Hooligan and Munro weren’t even sure what they’d just witnessed. The entire altar was now covered with stone-like vines in the shape of a massive egg. Crow and that goddess were now locked inside, and neither of them could sense what was happening.

“Uh… what do we do?” Hooligan asked.

“Take a nap,” Munro said, and a pillow appeared in his hand.

“W-what?”

“Crow is about to bed a statue, or is she bedding him…?” Munro’s voice trailed off as his eyes closed. Hooligan stared and stared and stared, but Munro was already sleeping.

“What the fuck?” Hooligan sighed under her breath.