“They should round up all those Inferno bastards and send them out into the wastes, if you ask me.”

“You’re drunk, Ted”.

“So? Am I wrong? Hell, throw in the doubles and the coins too, get rid of all our problems like that.”

“They’re people, Ted. They can't help it.”

“They’re not people, they’re volcanoes, just waiting to blow and take us out with them. We’d be doing them a mercy.”

*************

Jack woke the next morning to a sharp shock between his shoulders. Heat, no cold, the sensations were almost indistinguishable, confined to one point in the middle of his back. He rolled reflexively away from the danger, and rolled clear off the edge of the bed, landing on the floor in a heap of pillows and blankets. He cracked an eye at his assailant.

“Sorry about that,” Sollen said, “but if we don’t get moving we’ll be late for morning training. Also, you sleep like the dead”. His face was stoic and blank as ever, which annoyed Jack more than if he had been smirking. The bastard could at least be taking some joy in his misery.

They had stayed up late into the night with the girls, all eager to pick each other’s brains for the experiences they hadn’t gotten to have. The two ice cultivators were eager for stories of life outside the sect, what it was like to travel between cities and grow up around people who weren’t active cultivators. The “Undesirables”, a name which Silvia had used for herself and Jack at some point, and Jack secretly liked, if only to be in a category with someone for once, asked after stories of the powerful cultivators that Amy and Sollen had grown up rubbing elbows with.

The two stolidly refused to answer any questions about cultivation, however. They maintained that interference from anyone other than an expert before Sil and Jack began their cultivation journey would be extremely dangerous.

When they finally got back to their apartment, it was almost midnight, and Jack barely saw Sollen sit down on a mat of some strange black substance as he stumbled to his bed and fell immediately asleep.

“What time is it?” Jack mumbled as he struggled to free himself from the tangle of blankets.

“Sixth bell hit just before I woke you up. We have to be there at sunrise.”

Jack swore under his breath as he stood up and threw the linens back on the bed. “Do we have time?”

“We should,” Sollen said as he impassively watched Jack struggle out of yesterday's clothes and into the lightest shirt and pants that he had brought with him. “If you hurry.”

“You sound awfully chipper.” Jack grumbled as he hastily applied cornstarch powder to his underarms and groin, to try and keep the smell at bay until he could bathe. “You didn't get any more sleep than I did.”

“Ice cultivators don't require as much sleep-”

“Oh, you bastard.” Jack cut him off with a thrown pillow, which he caught, throwing it back at Jack with casual grace.

“Come on, let’s go.” Sollen said, and Jack thought he could see the ghost of a smile flicker across his stoic visage as he strode out the door and took off jogging. Jack scrambled in pursuit.

They made their way back up the ladders to the third level of catwalks, which was quiet in the still of the early morning.The air was cooler than yesterday, the chill cutting through Jack’s thin clothing and making his struggling breaths come out in puffs of steam. They weaved across railings and bridges back to the center of the city, where a platform ringed the central hub like a bureaucrat's collar, wide and flat and dotted with various alcoves and structures at fixed points around the ring.

They were among the last to arrive, and Jack could see dozens of people his age standing in the east section of the ring, milling about in pairs or groups of four. Everyone from the introductory group was there, and at each of their sides stood a tall, white-haired ice cultivator, in the vein of Sollen and Amy.

As the sun crested over the horizon, it washed the crowd in the morning light and Jack was struck, for the first time, by the sheer variety among the gathered teenagers. Roughly eighty were present, and while half had white hair and sharp cheekbones at least to some degree, the other half were as culturally diverse a crowd as Jack had ever seen.

Every combination of skin, hair and eye color Jack could think of were represented. Skin colors ranged from black as jet to pale as snow, and at least a few had an exotic tint, tinged with gold or sickly green. Eyes and hair were even more kaleidoscopic in variety, with every color of the rainbow peering out from someone’s pupils or flowing down a head. Jack was in the process of trying to steal glances at one boy who appeared to have been sculpted out of burnished bronze when a stone door in the hub slid open with a low hiss, drawing everyone's attention.

Out strode the elder that had addressed them briefly yesterday, before they had been handed over to their roommates in the sect. He was tall, of course, with long flowing white hair secured in a tail by an ornate piece of silver jewelry, and a flowing robe that obscured most of his body. The slight creases on his face would have placed him in his late thirties if he were anything but a cultivator. Following him were another group of people in robes, all Ice cultivators as well, but these seemed to be in their twenties.

“Good morning, students. For those of you new to our sect, I am Elder Sun. Over the next year, I and the inner sect members behind me will be guiding you through the initial stages of cultivation.” His eyes swept over the crowd, impassive. “The journey of cultivation lasts significantly longer than a year, but those of you who show promise will receive personalized instruction in the years following, after this class ends.”

All of the backs in the audience straightened, and hearts thudded in chests. Personalized instruction from an elder was more than they could have hoped for, was basically unheard of for anyone but prodigies.

“However,” said the elder, “As this class is something of a pet project of mine, and my time and energy is limited, those of you who do not show promise will be cut from this program and left entirely to their own devices. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Elder!” thundered the inner sect members, as they shifted their weight between legs and fell forward into a kneeling posture as one, in an almost ritual motion.

“Students, am I clear?”

“Yes, Elder!” came the stuttered response from those in the crowd with enough composure to offer it, and they all eventually fell down into some imitation of the inner sect’s kneel.

“Good. Work hard.” With that, he turned around in a flurry of robes, and the inner sect members stood up as one and flowed towards them like a wave. A particularly stocky male cultivator pulled up to where Sollen and Jack were kneeling.

“Are you Jack?” he said, in a voice like two stones grating against one another. When he nodded, he gestured for the two to stand. “That’ll make you Sollen, then. We’re starting you two off with a light jog. Jack, your job is to keep up with me.” He turned to Sollen, assessing him. “Your job is to double everything that Jack does today. If you don't manage it, you’ll be finishing the extra while Elder Sun begins his lecture on cultivation. Clear? Go.”

As Sollen took off like a shot, loping around the ring on long, agile legs, Jack followed the inner sect member at a more leisurely, but still demanding pace. The cultivator moved like a ghost, feet barely seeming to press into the ground as they propelled him forward. It called to mind someone moving through water, rather than air, but Jack was still pressed to keep pace.

“I'm sure you have questions.” The cultivator said without looking back. “As long as you keep pace, ask whatever you’d like.”

Jack thought for a moment, before asking “What’s your name?”

“Cultivator name or Given name?”

“Whichever you’d like to give me?” he hedged.

The cultivator gave a crisp nod. “Good instincts. In our sect, outer sect members use their given names, elders use a chosen cultivator name, and inner sect members use either, or both. Different people place different levels of importance on names, but it's considered polite to phrase it as ‘What should I call you?’”

“What should I call you, senior?”

He snorted at the honorific. “Carrol is my given name, so you can use that. I haven’t gotten around to picking a cultivator name yet. Also, pull back your shoulders.” he said without looking back.

Jack did so, taking a moment to think of his next question. “Is this part of my cultivation method?”

“Did you think it was all going to be meditating under waterfalls?”

“I mean, my mom mostly meditated in the fireplace…”

That got a chuckle out of Carrol, before he responded. “Back straight. Short answer is yes, exercise is a part of your cultivation for a variety of reasons. Elder Sun will explain it more in depth later, but what you need to focus on for the first part is having a full understanding of your body and how it works. Focus on how it moves and responds, and try to be aware of your body as one working system. Even with something as simple as running, every part of your body plays a role, even the parts you don't normally think about. Now, relax your neck.”

As he spoke, Carrol had slowly been ramping up his speed, and it was now at the point where Jack didn't have the spare breath to ask any more questions. The older cultivator continued to correct his form as they ran, and walked him through a breathing technique, all of which helped to some extent, but as they ran on and on Jack found himself struggling. Just as a wave of exhaustion hit and Jack felt his form start to break down, Carrol slowed to a stop.

He called an equally exhausted looking Sollen over with a hand signal and led the two over to a basin of flowing water set into the wall of the hub, where they drank from ladles and leaned against the wall to catch their breath.

When they had at least regained a semblance of controlled breathing, they were led to an alcove full of strange stone fixtures, which Carrol demonstrated how to use to perform a series of strength exercises. They worked their way through the series, Jack and Sollen each taking a turn on each structure and spotting each other, each exercise targeting a different part of their bodies until there wasn't any part of them that didn't feel pushed to its limit. At the end of that hellish sequence, they blearily followed their torturer to one more area covered in a soft black mat, where he led them through a series of stretches, which was formatted like an odd sort of dance and took far, far too long for the two student’s tastes.

Finally done, they were allowed to bonelessly collapse onto the mat.

“Good work” came Carrol’s voice, barely piercing through the haze of their exhaustion. “The first day is always the hardest, and you held out admirably. You have a bit over a half an hour to recover before the elder comes back to teach you. You can sleep, but I would recommend meditating, if you can. Try and feel out the parts of yourself you don't normally feel. I’ll be back with you two this afternoon. Good luck.”

It took a moment, and what felt like the strength of ten men, but Jack managed to wrench himself into a sitting position where he took what he thought of as a cultivators pose. Legs crossed and retracted, hands resting on knees. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind.

It felt like he was thinking through a thick mist, everything was moving sluggishly and his skin was feverish from exertion.

At least that last part he could fix.

He focused on his breath and concentrated the excess heat of the air in his lungs into a thread of energy, which he sent questing up his neck to his head, through his brain and around his scalp, picking up all the excess heat along the way. The thread, now a ribbon, swam through his body, but something was strange.

This wasn't the first time he had done this, far from it, but normally he wasn't able to feel individual structures inside of himself with the energy, it was just… his body. Now, with exhaustion and creeping soreness suffusing all of his muscles and organs, he could use those sensations as a sort of topological map, feeling out his body one piece at a time with the ribbon of energy. He found his diaphragm, his stomach and his kidneys, and began working his way up the individual notches of his spine. With every beat, he could feel blood rushing in his veins, and his heart radiated heat like a miniature sun. He had almost reached it when he felt a now familiar jolt of cold on the back of his neck.

His eyes snapped open and jerked to his side, where he saw Sollen sitting, staring resolutely forward. He followed his gaze to see Elder Sun standing serenely on the ring, watching over the crowd of just under a hundred teenagers in various stages of exhaustion and composure. His eyes slowly swept over them, gauging something only he could see. When he had apparently seen all he needed, he cleared his throat once, delicately.

The sound was quiet, but omnipresent. It came from everywhere at once, resonating through the stone they sat on like the skin of a giant drum.

“Good morning again, class. I am glad to see that there have been no losses since the last time we spoke. Occasionally, when inducting a new class of outer sect members, we will have one or two students who are incapable of the level of mental and physical fortitude we demand of our initiates, and we have an early departure from our sect. It warms this old man’s heart to know that you all have at least this much willpower.”

By this point, everyone was sitting at attention with eyes open, and a few tried to struggle to their feet out of respect but the elder waved them back down. He gestured, and a stone chair came flying out of an alcove to settle behind him, and he took a seat, drumming his fingers on the armrest.

“I must say, I'm not certain I know the best way to begin teaching you all. You have likely guessed that this is not a standard intake class, and much of this is new to me as well, so you will have to forgive this old man a lack of… polish, in his lessons.” His fingers ceased their drumming for a moment. “We normally begin with a lecture on the nature of permafrost, but that won’t work here.”

The assembled teenagers sat stock still in trepidation. Elder Sun was certainly not what they had expected from a powerful sect elder, he acted more like a village elder in truth, but it remained to be seen whether or not that was a good thing.

“I suppose theory is as good a place as any to start. Who can tell me what they know about the foundation realm?” The elder asked the group of exhausted students, all working to get their breathing under control.

When the crowd was quiet except for the sound of panting, the elder frowned slightly.

“In this sect, students, you will never be punished for having knowledge. If it is incomplete or mistaken, you will be corrected, but knowledge is never something to keep hidden without cause. Now, what do you know about foundation establishment?”

One girl with straight black hair woven into an elaborate braid shot up her hand. When the elder gestured her forward, she said, in a steady voice, “Foundation is when cultivators learn to create qi and purge impurities from their bodies in preparation for forming a core.”

The elder nodded, eyes crinkling. “Very confident, and largely correct, I'm impressed.” The girl flushed with pride, before he continued. “But just wrong enough to mislead. To clarify, what do you mean by impurities?”

The girl blinked. “Impurities? They’re… impurities. Toxins and things that you pick up by living.”

“A misconception, but a pervasive one. Now, to illustrate my point. You all have at least some skill at manipulating the energy of the world, or else you wouldn't be here, but you have varying levels of sensitivity. Let’s see… Jack. When meditating, what can you sense around your kidneys?”

“Nothing, elder.” he said, growing pale.

“But you feel something, correct?”

“I… resistance? It feels like I'm pushing through something.”

“Good. Lydia, what do you sense around your kidneys?”

“Decay, elder”.

“Jack, what do you sense around your heart?”

“...Heat”.

“Excellent.” Elder Sun looked over the crowd, where most were trying to reconcile this with their beliefs, but a few appeared to be trying to meditate and listen simultaneously. “I can see that you catch my meaning. The prevailing sentiment is that the world is poisonous, that our bodies accumulate that poison over the course of our lives. This is false. What poisons and toxins in the world are, for the most part, handled by our liver and kidneys.”

He took a moment to let that sink in. “What our bodies are doing, from the very moment we are born, is cultivating. Cultivating at the lowest, weakest level, but cultivating. Our bodies want to grow stronger, so they take in what energy they can wherever it will help. Heat in the heart and blood. Earth in the bones and sinew. Air in the lungs.”

He gestured a sleeve toward the floor of the ring, where the class looked down to find that the designs in the stone were rearranging themselves into a diagram of the human body, with symbols decorating its various pieces of anatomy. “To cultivate in the foundation stage, you must fight against every instinct you have and use your qi to purge your body of all the energy you cannot actively manipulate, that you are not attuned to. This will make you weaker in the short term, but is a necessary first step on the road to cultivation.”

He sat back in the stone chair, bringing his sleeves together in front of his body. “Do you have any questions about this aspect of the foundation stage before we move on to the creation of qi?”

The boy with burnished bronze skin and hair raised a shaky hand, and was called on by the elder. He spoke in a thick nomad’s accent, high and sharp to be heard above the desert winds. “This is of course valuable information, elder, and I thank you for providing it. But are methods of purging… impurities not unique to every cultivation method? Will this not be addressed in the cultivation methods we will be employing?”

An odd expression flickered across the elder’s face before he responded. “An excellent question, Rin. Methods of purging other forms of energy are unique to every cultivation method, as every form of Qi is unique, and needs to be employed differently. However, this class will not be teaching you to use a cultivation method. I will be teaching you to build your own.”

The previously silent class erupted in noise, as every aspiring cultivator had a different reaction, from leaping to their feet and shouting, to praying, to fainting dead away. Jack just sat, stock still, growing pale, heartbeat growing louder and louder until it filled his hearing completely. He barely felt the hand on his bicep, squeezing his arm in an attempt to reassure.

Oh no...