Eric looked at the several maidens either laying or leaning beside on another on the desert sand. The cries of the leader of these maidens had marred his respect among his men. None of them could see anything wrong with these handmaidens which were chosen by his father. They simply didn't understand. Lord Faulkner wasn't as simple to just give out handmaidens, his son learned that quite easily.

"Young noble Faulkner, please give us a chance. The Lord had given us an order to complete this task, and if we don't, he'll...he'll make us slaves!" The main handmaiden among the women had cascading back hair that reached to her backside. Coupled with her generous figure, quite a few men felt a nefarious energy pour through their loins as they watched her bosom move to and fro.

Eric's patience was dwindling. The reason they hadn't been able to leave the Alberdan capital for the voyage for so long was due to these servants. They had done something that had resulted in the insubordination among his men. Eric didn't want any traces of his father following him as he made his voyage for Jaspen at Darknorth Prison.

"I said disperse. Or I will make you regret it." His tone of speech was cold, reverberating with the help of the desert wind at night.

The maidens all looked pitiful and weak as the wind came crashing on them, tossing particles of sand at their clothing and their faces. Each of them seemed to be on the verge of tears, apparently hoping to hold on to Eric's caravan.

Athon looked at Eric, noticing his rage continue to grow. He knew that if this young noble was truly pushed to the limit, these women would meet a fate worse than death and then die in the desert. But something felt peculiar to Athon. Just why do these servants have this odd tinge to their bodies?

Eric's face grew more grim as he noticed the handmaidens had not moved an inch. All of them continued to tremble as the moon sank below the horizon, signaling the rising sun. It's been almost two days we have missed for arriving at Darkthorn. He stared at the handmaidens coiled among one another. His gaze showed no emotions.

"Athon, have them leave now. If they don't, discard them." Eric grasped at the hilt of his sword. The sheath seemed plain, worn out and of simple creation. It carried no gem or embroidery commonly found among other nobles. His simple action was an unspoken rule among the caravan members. He was on the verge of spilling blood.

Athon moved calmly towards the 10 handmaidens. Each of them seemed like young stars, and glowed with the rising sunlight. Their temperament and their figures had provoked the flames of a few men among Eric's crowd. They felt shame of the awkward bump in their clothing, and saddened their was no simple means of reducing it.

The servants tried one last time, looking at the hundreds of men gathered around Eric, Athon and the maidens. Their eyes showed they were unwilling, carrying a trace of helplessness and dependency. A few of the men were going to speak, but hesitated at connecting sight with Athon.

That guy, he will kill us!

The young noble's right hand, his gaze has so much blood thirst!

I want one of them for my bed, but can I even enjoy a bed if I die?

Athon resumed to looking at the ten women, his gaze focusing on each of them. He secretly dispersed his Aura to scan each of them, enclosing them in his Saint ranked Aura before gradually examining everything in the area.

His eyes grew serious as he noticed that each woman were trembling, but one of their arms were behind their back. All of them were arranged in a circle, their hidden arms clutching something inside their clothing. As Athon's Aura came ever closer, he saw two strange items in a compartment of the ladies' clothing.

A Transmitting Creation, and a Disguise Creation? Why would... He thought back to Eric's reaction to hearing these women were chose by his father. At that point Athon realized the depths of their relationship a bit better.

He doesn't even trust his son. Athon bowed slightly to the women before his Aura struck at the Creations. The Transmitting Creation easily broke, clearly of a low quality. All of their Designs could not handle the weight of a Saint ranked Aura, and became nothing more than scraps of metal.

The women all looked towards Athon, their gazes flickering with a carefully hidden trace of shock.

How did he know?

Wait this Aura? It doesn't make sense!

Why didn't the Lord tell us a Saint ranked cultivator was here?

He's so young, and a Saint rank?

The various thoughts of these women all showed their fear of the young man in front of him. They avoided showing any signs of change until the Disguise Creation was struck.

The Disguise Creation was rather simple. It used a steady feeding of Aura to hide one's Aura level. Based on its Creator's ranking in the art of making these items, one would be able to mask their Aura levels from everyone at the same rank and below.

These Disguise Creations, on the other hand, were very rare. In the protected compartments of these handmaiden's clothing, these items hand a separate ability along with hiding Aura; if the object was to be targeted, the surrounding people would fall under the damage of a self-destructing Creation.

Athon showed no remorse as his Aura carefully attacked all of the ten Creations, and just as he thought they began to detonate. His Aura ripped the items from the clothing of these ten women into the air, where each of them detonated.

The blast itself was contained in Athon's Aura, and as the various members of the caravan saw this occur, their gazes shifted at they looked as these maidens.

They carried bombs to...kill us?

Was this why the young noble was against their existence?

Here I was wanting one in my bed. Would I have died in the midst of passion?

A few subconsciously looked downwards, shivering at the thought of losing that part of their loins. Those that did couldn't imagine enjoying their final nights in passionate loving with one of these women anymore.

All of the armed members pulled out their swords, hammers, and blades. Their eyes flickered with anger. They understood the handmaidens were attempting to trick them with pleas of innocence to capture their hearts. And to attack their young master.

The revealed weapons sent chills down the spines of these women, all of them facing each other back to back. If their eyes showed hopelessness before, then now each of their gazes filled with despair. The head of the guards, the most radiant of all the women, had already fallen to a kneeling on the sand, her sight facing the distance.

Lord Faulkner, why did you make us do this?

Eric walked towards Athon, his sword pulled out from its sheath. It was the length of Eric's arm, and seemed to carry with it a special gravity. The light of the sun shone against its metallic frame, giving it a sense of strength. No one among the crowd wished to find out the sharpness of the blade.

His anger had been stored for quite a while. Eric had watched all of his men in the caravan carry traces of disapproval of his actions. He understood these women had an ulterior motive, but some men still had dissenting opinions to his choices. There was a difference between suggesting and dissenting. And their actions would not be forgotten.

"Will you kill them, or I will?" Eric's voice echoed throughout the weapon bearing men. He was giving them a chance to prove their loyalty once again.

The various men of the caravan had questioned his choice at the start instead of being completely loyal. Although none of them voiced it, Eric wouldn't allow such a weed to take root. If the day came where he had to challenge say his father, he didn't want his men to abandon him.

No one would want to have a guard of elite warriors that didn't obey you with trust. Instead, they would kill the dissenting soldier at first glace. In Alberdos, Eric's leniency was far from the norm. He was willing to place bets on men others would kill for simply thinking.

Athon gestured his hand into the air, stopping the oncoming soldiers from approaching any further. He had sensed that the Auras of these young women were at least three levels higher than the average Aura Warrior level 1 among Eric's current forces. His movement brought an end to the rushing soldiers. Athon was Eric's right hand man, and his actions were treated with heavy weight as well. None dared to dissent against him either.

Athon's Aura became completely visible to all the weapon bearers present, a pristine magenta in color with traces of purple in between. Such a powerful Saint rank Aura meant the Techniques and Arts Athon trained were rather high and focused on precision. The sensation of being pricked with a thousand needles filled the minds of those in contact with the Aura.

Athon looked to the several Auras of the servants presently in a circle before him. With his illusory Aura he had already surrounded them. He knew what he had to do.

Using the grand control of his Aura, Athon brutally layered all of that Saint ranked energy on the ten women, forcing all their Auras to retreat back into their bodies. The men watched on with awe that followed horror.

One by one the maidens shrieked with unbearable pain. It felt as if they lost a limb, the open wound boiled in flames. Athon had engulfed the women with his Auras. He then with a single cycle of his Art sent spiraling needles of Aura into their bodies. The amount of damage he had caused them had only begun.

Using the needles of Aura, his Projectile Arts were not showing their skill, confusing the men present. Although the various handmaidens were proven to be spies, at the moment all Athon was doing was causing them pain. Didn't the young noble tell them to kill the ten women wriggling in the sand?

Athon looked towards the ten bodies on the ground, his concentration visible on his face. His Aura completely entered the bodies of the ten women, disappearing into each of them. The ten women each clutched their abdomen, their faces in agony as they tried to hold something back.

As a small area on their stomachs reddened below the skin, the soldiers watched on with fear. They didn't know what Athon was doing, but from the tormented faces of those women, it wasn't something they would bear.

The reddened skin revealed a small marble that came from within. Each of these ten marbles flickered with white light, gemstones in the sand. The ten women had all fainted from the pain they endured. Right above each reddish mark, little needle wounds could be visible if one looked closely.

Athon walked in front of the ten women, scooping up the ten marble objects. He revealed a terrifying smile as he looked at the men gathered around.

"They are now mortals once again. You may do as you wish, but make sure you end their lives afterwards." Athon carefully placed the marble items into a pocket on his waist. The grounds were quiet as no one was speaking.

A few felt horror as they heard Athon's words. they carefully surrounded the fainted women, looking at the reddened areas on their stomachs. The few that saw became easily frightened as they backed away.

Many of them mumbled as they backed off. One of them was still willing to speak.

"He's so cruel. So cruel." His face was pale as he sat further away from the rest of the group, shaken by what he had seen.

Athon made his way to Eric's tent, his hands feeling the weight of the marbles in the pocket. A smile came across his face that wasn't pure in any fashion.

"Eric, I have disposed of them. The men are taking care of what's left over." Athon sat himself down on a cushion in Eric's tent, his hand still feeling the weight of the spheres within.

"Good. Let me guess? You used your Art to remove their Aura Cores, rendering them mortals for life?" Eric looked up from his low table as he watched Athon play with a single of the white marbles.

"We both know how pure these Cores are, Eric. After all, you promised me that under your wing all of these would be mine, no? The academy wouldn't let me do the same, otherwise...I'd be a Lord by now." Athon replied back to Eric, his hand tossing an marble up into the air. A trace of happiness filled his eyes. If only I could do this every time. The world is simply too cruel.

"I did say that. Just make sure that those maidens are dead after the soldiers have their way." Eric followed in suit. He knew that Athon had an appetite for Aura training, one that crossed the taboo of robbing another of their cultivation. The maiden's each were at least of the Aura Warrior level 3, and Athon now had 10 cores of similar value. So much condensed Aura was bound to help his cultivation quite a bit.

"I'll make sure that after they have their fun those servants are dead. Don't worry Eric." Athon looked at the Aura Core of the head maidservant with joy. She was a level 6! So much pure Aura, and it's now mine.

Another group of servants brought in Eric's meals, just made. The smell filled the tent, making Athon feel famished. He left Eric's tent, making his way to the dining area.

After getting him meal, he sat on the bench nearby, eating with gusto. The occasional guard would look back at him, remembering that just earlier in the day this man had crossed the taboo of cultivation without a thought. The faces of those tortured women filled their minds. They didn't dare to get on his bad side.

Athon ate calmly as he saw the fleeting gazes that looked back at him. He didn't feel it was too surprising. After all, taking one's Aura cultivation was no different than killing someone. With Aura one could easily die to the elements or to Aura cultivators. Even commoners had Aura, although minimal levels.

But now those women were at Aura Mortal level 0, and can never train in Aura again. No different babies at birth, they were powerless to change their fates from this point on. At the moment, these women were enjoying the play of those men with the nefarious flames. From this point on, freedom no longer applied to them.

As Athon returned to Eric's tent, he found the young noble seated and reading a map of the location of Darkthorn Prison and other maps leading to the destination strewn on his desk. Beside him his meal plates had been left untouched. Athon could tell Eric was deep in his thoughts but continued.

"How did you know those maidens were unsafe?" He asked the young noble a question inside of the tent. Although he knew that the father and son had terrible relations, he wanted to know more.

Eric stopped looking at the map, setting it down before looking at Athon.

"One day, my Mother and I were given maidens by my Father in the same way."

"We were on our way to her father's residence. Both of them, my Father and Mother, were nobles. She was from the Frilin noble line, one of a lesser rank than the Faulkner line. We were beginning our travels with the appointed servants Father gave us long before my Mother and Father had been fighting. They were brought with us as we traveled for the Frilin manor."

"The distance was as long as going to the Capital from the Faulkner mansion, but it lay on the opposite side. Our home was in the west, and the Frilin's main manor was in the east."

"We traveled to the Capital. Preparing to get supplies for our continued voyage. Mother thought Father didn't know of her travels. In the market, the servants followed Mother and I around, but I was eventually separated from Mother. It was the last time I saw her alive." Eric spoke with his heart, spilling the bottled sadness he had for several years.

"When I found out of Mother's death, the other servants had come back to tell me. She was stabbed in the back with a small knife, but a poison had killed her in seconds. I grieved, and the other servants did as well before we returned to Father. A funeral was held, and everyone grieved. but only I was truly grieving."

"Later on, I found out that the servants had purposely split us up, and then killed Mother with a Poison Art. Father had ordered it long ago that if Mother became unfaithful or left the home, she was to be killed." His voice grew cold as he remembered the discarded letter he found in a maid's quarters.

"From that day on, I was in secret defiance of Father as I found out everything that happened before. Of how they were married. Of how I came to be. Of how dirty, how vile half my blood truly is. I can only get revenge now, once the time is right. I can at least do that." Eric spoke those last words with heavy breaths. His frustrated heart began to settle as he remembered his Mother's affection.

Athon looked at the young noble. He didn't have a family of his own, and only entered the Imperial Alberdan Academy on a whim of a professor there. His talent was later discovered and nurtured. If there was anyone who could share his bloodline, he didn't know who they were. Nor did he look for them. They abandoned me in the streets of the Capital. What good would looking for them do?

He had marked his existence up to an affair that went wrong among a pair of nobles, resulting in the lady becoming pregnant. And he to deal with the consequences of their judgement by being left in the streets.

The moon began to rise on into the starry sky once again. The light of the moon graced the camp as the various men lit torches. Eric and Athon looked out the small opening in the tent, seeing various figures ready for dinner.

"We leave tonight." Eric spoke once again, Athon agreeing. Athon quickly entered a meditative stance, the ten Aura Cores inside of his hands. He began to absorb the Aura inside, his own Aura growing more dense.

Inside of Athon's body, his meridians relished in the oncoming pure Aura, refining it up to a greater degree before adding it to Athon's core. This process continued on for 15 minutes until all that was left was smaller lumps of rock with various holes inside.

When Aura was refined from Aura Cores, what was left behind was the impurities in the Core. Impurities could be purified by the Aura Meridians, but some would always remain, solidifying at the center of the Aura Core. These small things were worthless to Athon, and he tossed them from the window.

While Athon was refining each Core, and ghastly wail ushered from one tent after another. The women who lost their cores all felt their bodies lose the ability to cultivate as they endured the pain. The men inside those tents made no effort to stop, adding on to the horror.

Even if one lost their Aura Core, if it was returned one could regain the ability to train in Aura once again over time. Every Aura manipulator retained a special link with their Core, as it was crafted with their own skills. Once a lost core was refined, the person who lost this precious item would feel as if their body was being sliced into thin wafers all over their body. It was an unbearable pain, the price of forcibly falling from an Aura cultivation permanently.

In their bodies, their meridians withered and died away. If someone was harmed this way, they could perhaps never return to training Aura. Why would such beings ever need to have meridians again? Even if the heavens gave another chance, the talent they would have would be far inferior than before.

Athon felt his Aura surging but still sighed. It's not enough to reach an Aura Saint level 10. I still have a ways to go. He walked out of the tent, going to the various leaders to tell them of their nightly departure.

Eric looked at the map, his gaze focused on the diagram of the Darkthorn Dungeons. "If he was mistreated, I'll make even the Warden pay. A spatial Design Creator. That is worth everything and more." Resolute was his voice as he remembered giving the old man the Primal Fold Technique's first set.

Outside, the crew in charge of making meals fired their cauldrons once more. The smell of meat drifted off towards the tents, giving rise to salivation. Another set of crew members began to prepare the transportation vehicles they had planned to use.

With an infusion of Aura into a small object, Athon threw a Creation that resembled a miniature lion. The small lion infused with Aura arced across the desert for 15 feet before transforming. It grew colossal in a minute as it became a large, tawny gold lion that expanded in size by about 40 times. From the side, one could see a walkway on the lion Creation that led to its crown, steps all evenly spaced to the top.

The eyes of the lion flickered with life for a second before dying down. Athon was waiting beside the lion, using his Aura to check if it required repairs.

After eating the meal he was served, Eric left his tent, his sword in its sheath. He wore his armor, the insignia of the Faulkner family emblazoned on his back. The deep blue colored plates with a grayish tinge near the edges gave off the feeling of invulnerability. His tent behind him was carefully deconstructed, his items and goods stowed away with carefulness.

The other tents followed in suits, the various men taking apart their tents by hand, following the methods taught by the veterans to make it all fit in their backpacks. Without spatial rings, one would have to carry all their items by hand. Thus, few brought additional things with them for this voyage.

The men and women, servants male and female that Athon had selected for Eric's caravan lined up by rows before entering the lion Creation. Many were unafraid of the looming behemoth. They had already done this several times.

The area where Eric's group had been showed no signs of a group once leaving here. They had all stopped some distance away from the Alberdan capital to get rid of those maidens, and were now returning to their voyage.

Eric looked throughout the landscape, using his Aura several times. After ensuring there was no sign of his stay here, he quickly made his way to Athon, the both of them boarding the strange Creation.

As both of them made their way to the crown of the lion, they sat inside of a comfortable room with a vast amount of space. The lion Creation was a transportation type that crossed vast distances with ease. The lion type was made for long voyages and could hold a moderate amount of items in storage.

The area of the chest had various men shuffling to seats as they sat down. Next to a special Design on the wall, each of them injected their Aura.

Servants continued to categorize and stock away all the things the party was carrying, while the cooking crew resorted their goods in another room in preparation for breakfast the next morning.

With the infusion of all the Aura, the light in the lion's eyes grew in strength. However, even with this energy the machine didn't budge.

The area Eric now sat inside was the command center of this creation, and from it he and the subleaders of the caravan prepared for travel. Eric pulled a small white stone from his pocket, a special Design set on a board in front of him.

This white stone was an Aura stone. Aptly named, this object was made from concentrated Aura of the purest form. As the stone was white, this meant it was a Mortal ranked Aura stone. It was about 4 inches in size, and fitted in Eric's hand.

The price of a stone was based on its color and its size. One the size of four inches was worth the cost of supporting the average Alberdan family for 10 years. Very expensive indeed.

This stone was from an older one Eric hand procured much before this departure. Back then, the stone was 6 inches. He only expected the current stone to shrink by half an inch by the time they reached Darkthorn Prison.

His hand nudged the stone of Aura into the Design, the entire piece disappearing within. The various runes on the walls came to life as the eyes of the lion flickered with existence, as if the whole Creation was an actual lion awakening from its slumber.

Eric sat down on his throne inside of the lion's crown, Athon beside him. The Aura Saint was reviewing the stock information he was given by the servants from below, checking for mistakes.

The lion let out a roar of the beasts, howling into the night. The beautiful moon was the only audience to this Creation's activation, as the lion sprung into life. The Creation began to move with speed, quickly leaving behind footprints in the sand.

The wind blew over the nearby dunes, hiding away the markings of the Creation's claws. Just a short distance away were ten small mounds in the sand, graves left unmarked in the lifeless world known as the Alberdan Desert. The sand continued to shuffle and fall, adding layers of sand to the area. The existence of the Faulkner caravan in this region had long disappeared under Nature's grasp.