Lucio watched his benefactor work beside him atop a 50ft tower. The tower was open on all sides to give them a complete view and range of movement. Throwing spears half-filled a clay pot between them, growing fuller with every spear Red grew from seeds. Even though he still breathed while so many others lay dead, he felt uneasy.

By the Prophet’s light, Lucio had thought they’d stumbled upon some good fortune after his heroic saga was nearly cut short prematurely. His armor had been polished to a shine, and his father’s best commander rode with him in his legendary tarnished grey plate. Lucio had chosen the strongest spirit beast horse he could find and mounted up armed with his father’s cavalry saber, a hunting spear, and his long rifle. When no blade could pierce their hides, and even his rifle proved ineffective, he thought he would die heroically then a gap in the demon’s ranks opened.

Despite all odds, he didn’t break; his father taught him that when the lord flees, the men break. If Lucio had fled, he wouldn’t have five men. His five were the truest of souls and the bravest. None of them gave up even when their weapons failed to pierce the beast’s hides. They fled together even though Lucio was sure it was a trap.

Men shouldn’t be twisted into monsters, nor should they be able to challenge a noble in the coalescence realm. This command by his father should have been easy. But, instead, he had made it across the bridge to safety and enjoyed the grudging hospitality of an inquisitorial dog.

The man Red towered over him as a behemoth of spiritual power. Lucio would say the bald-headed man held the strength to punch upward beyond his cultivation. He’d have to pray after such thoughts; they were heresy. Besides, Red seemed to have a random assortment of spirits merged into his vessel. Wood, fire, ice, and something average didn’t bode well for his advancement. Many cultivators made the mistake of taking on multiple spirits to supplement their power. It made them unstable. Of course, the inquisition probably made him take on various spirits to make him more valuable. Lucio couldn’t explain this place in any other way.

He felt sorry for Red and admiration all at once. Red clearly had a talent for wood qi by the sheer scope of this place and the way it had been built; Lucio recognized his benefactor as a natural.

A thorn thicket had seemingly materialled overnight tall and surrounding the moat. The demons clawed and scraped against it, only infuriating themselves. Wads of fur-covered the prickly thistle bushes that dominated the edge of the moat. And the moat itself was just as incredible. Red had altered the stakes within, filling the pit with various jagged poles angled to use a lion’s leap to impale the demons. Small thickets of thorns grew around the stakes to impair the demons further. Then there was Red’s mad plan.

His host stood beside Lucio on the newly made watchtower. The man who stood against the demons in their territory sighed and turned to Lucio. “What’s eating you?” Red asked, and it took him a few minutes to decipher the idiom’s meaning.

When he looked at Red, he saw the pride of any craftsman in love with their work. “You’ve crafted a beautiful tomb. But, if you leave, we won’t be able to hold the demons off. You can’t dig your canal fast enough to make a difference.” Lucio gushed with all his worries.

The very idea that it's feasible spat in the face of military engineers everywhere. Red didn’t even have earth qi; he had to work around his limitations and mutate the plants around him. Did he use an established familiar?

Of course, not Red had no familiar and seemingly had no idea that bonding with a single focus would make using his wood qi easier. If Red stuck with a single seedling and reused it, it would adapt to the user’s qi. Over time the seedling would grow and return to seed form, repeatedly gaining new forms through repeated cycles of growth and renewal. Instead, Red chose any seedling convenient. He cultivated qi like a hole in the ground and never used the same seedling twice besides the house and the bridge. Instead of growing new homes from the original seedling Red grew new homes from fresh seedlings.

To help them, Red had built walls, and Lucio’s own men had helped lay the bricks. With no mortar, Red had walled the bricks in forming another layer of protection. It seemed that every day their fortification grew higher and their walls thicker. While their food supply wasn’t inexhaustible, it wasn’t running out anytime soon. Freshwater from the lake helped, but the demons grew bold every time Red left.

“I see the demon and his thousand eyes. It isn’t a lion even if it favors the form.” Red pointed to the faster-moving eyes. “Except for them, they aren’t fully the demon. I think they were originally cultivators; there is green in their eyes mixed with the blue. Do you see how they’re more man than lion? What’s stopping them from poisoning our lake.” Red said.

“Then you agree we have to leave,” Lucio said.

“Demons grow stronger with evil the more flesh they can amass. The stronger ones produce miasma that can break a man’s mind and mutate the body. With every mind a demon devours, the more cunning and ruthless they become. The legends claim that only righteous weapons blessed by the Prophet’s seraphs can slay them.” Lucio said.

One newly turned crossed into the moat, and Red threw a spear. The air screamed as the weapon impaled the man-lion. Red relaxed as the man lion’s qi slowly filled the air and mixed. “With enough force, everything dies. I’ll deepen the moat, shore up our defenses, find, and pull water from underground springs if I have to.” Red said.

Lucio was confident that Red would have already filled the moat if there was an underground spring to pull from.

“If we can hurt them, then we can run. All we need is the right moment.” Lucio said.

“What’s stopping you from leaving? Until Emily is better, I’ll hold my ground.”

“She can’t be that good of a lay. You’re the greatest field engineer I’ve ever seen; any noble would throw their vassals’ daughters at you. My father might grant you the hand of one of my cousins if you worked with us. You could be a landowner under us, a man of real power in the community.” Lucio said.

Red formed the triad with his hands, and Lucio knew he’d made a mistake. Offering riches and women to a man of faith might well see him thrown from the tower. It wouldn’t kill him unless he landed in the moat, but he’d bruise something fierce.

A spear appeared in Red’s hand with blinding speed. Before Lucio knew what was going on, Red threw the spear. Lucio scrambled to see it fly down and impale one of the fully grown ashen demons. While it didn’t sink all the way through, it managed to embed itself midshaft. The demon turned tail and fled back up the moat into the briar patch.

“When they rush our defenses and fully commit, that will be our opening to escape.”

…

Washington promised himself not to reveal his skill until the last possible moment. A hero should only reveal their hidden power at the very end. But, for a moment, when the demons had killed his fellow men at arms, he thought it was time. Washington had pulled at the light within and tried to call upon the Herald of Lighting Phantasms, but the power failed him. Nevertheless, this was his story, and he was the hero, so why wouldn’t his hero power work.

When the demons chased them to the bridge, he’d nearly fallen off his horse into a spike pit. Then he saw Red, and his power stirred. That’s when Washington realized he needed a mentor. At first, he’d been put off. The bald-headed bearded man looked like he belonged on a watch list more than the elite ranks of wise mentors.

That was until he learned that Red was a member of the inquisition after being in this world for only a few weeks. Of course, some people had all the privilege. But that’s ok Red could introduce him to the obviously hot interrogator in the house and the inquisition. This was obviously a part of the main questline.

Once he established himself, he would handle side quests and maybe found his own country. Then, establish feminism for the women who obviously needed to be liberated. And then he would break down all class and poverty lines. Under his leadership, everyone would be equal, and the world would become a place of love and peace.

Early in the morning, he spotted Red walking around the perimeter. If this wasn’t a chance encounter, Washington didn’t know what was.

“Hey, you’re from Earth,” Washington said.

“Is that an insult? I don’t know what you’re talking about, but don’t disturb me.” Red grumped.

Well, that’s ok; he was used to being denied at first. All his attempts to flirt with the baron’s daughter had only resulted in threats of flogging and this hunt. And now, he was in the presence of a mentor and about to learn wood-style like the first Hokage in Naruto.

Unfortunately, his spirit had been a fire type because grass starters were lame except for a few exceptions, of course. And here, the air was filled with fire qi; he could throw fireballs forever and never get tired. Not only that, but his strength grew day by day using the guardsman cultivation technique.

“Listen, I don’t care what problems you have; I want to learn from you. So come on, let me do what you do so I can grow stronger. It's the only way I’ll become strong enough to change the world.” Washington said.

“You want to change the world.” His mentor said. “Well, what about the world needs to be changed?” Red asked.

It was a test it had to be. Washington couldn’t let this opportunity pass him by. “The world is unbalanced; you can see it all around you. People are afraid to go out at night. Nobles get richer and fatter off the backs of slaves, and women are forced into marriages against their will. Even the woman I want is already arranged with a guy I know she can’t stand. You can see it too; I know you can.” Washington said.

Red turned his head to the side as if he were weighing something. “Don’t ever say anything like that out loud again. From now on, use a code word when speaking about Earth. Call it the before times, or you risk a witch hunt for our people. Not that there isn’t one coming regardless of what we do.” Washington gulped and nodded his head; he had seen one girl burned already.

Washington hadn’t thought about anyone listening in and getting his people killed when they could be used to help them overthrow the government would suck. While the red caps could die, he didn’t want his bros in blue to get burned at the stake like a demon or witch.

“What about teaching me?” Washington asked.

The man rubbed his beard like the wise old mentor he was and nodded his head. “You can’t do much right now. Practice qi control by making sure the smoker stays lit and wait for a wood spirit to take up residence.” Washington looked around. There were a few wood spirits already floating about. “None of those they’re barely low-class spirits. You need a medium-class at least to even begin. I think they helped you into the coalescence realm with a low-class fire spirit. Here is a lesson a mid-class spirit is 4 times stronger than a low-class spirit. And a high-class spirit is 6 times stronger than a mid-class spirit.” Red said.

Washington knew now was the time to ask a question. “Why are there classes separating spirits, and what does low, mid, and high actually mean? Aren’t they all spirits?” Washington asked.

Red looked positively pleased by the question. “Fundamentally, all spirits are incomparable. Each is a manifestation of qi clinging to an emotion-drenched event or memory. Once enough qi is gathered into a memory or idea, it can manifest. Low, mid, and high only determine how much qi the spirit has gathered and its time spent existing. Older spirits often have more qi than younger spirits unless a spirit manifests in a haunted house or another qi-rich area. This place, for instance, is full of rich wood qi from my craft. Spirits that manifest here and maintain their existence here will grow stronger faster than spirits manifesting in qi light areas even if they’re the same age.” His monotoned.

Washington felt his mind spin at the new information and wished he had written it down. Red seemed utterly bored of the discussion already. It looked like this was all as common knowledge as it came to him. That or it could be because Red apparently hadn’t slept for days. Cultivators could do that, but it wasn’t healthy. So, Washington would forgive his mentor for not being utterly enthusiastic about spirits and ghosts being both tangible and measurable.

“Let me give you some advice,” Red said. Washington was suddenly all ears. “Abandon the before times and embrace the new world; it’s the only way to survive,” Red said. Washington let his mentor’s words go in one ear and out the other. It was better to learn the cool moves, take advantage, and forget their supposedly sage advice as with all old mentor types. Why would he abandon Earth? It was just getting good; equality was at hand? They were so close to saving the world now it seemed they would have to start over here from square one.