Debauchery of a Soul-Eating Wraith

Gryon was shown the envision of Evian's true Wraithic self but unlike the duo of Carleine and Ember, he wasn't given a chance for conversation or to be questioned on his acceptance. He wasn't given a speech, wasn't made to understand the ongoing process and its intended results, he was just branded.

As the seal stamped itself into the center of Gryon's back, right against his spine, his body became fuelled with enough Eldritch energy to set him on the path to using the Decadent and Pure Revolution Act, the information of which he passed into the large man's mind.

They were out of the Astral space now and Gryon bowed over and trembled with an intense gratitude at the glorious path now stretched before him. A speedy progress that outclassed anything he could have hoped for with conventional cultivation. Discover tales on m_vl_em_p_yr

"Thank you," he said in a deep voice that seemed choked with tears, "For as long as I live, my loyalty is yours."

Evian cocked his head to the side,

"Good to hear," he said, "Now cross your legs and cultivate. Eldritch energy and Spiritual energy will soon wage a painful war inside your body. They will never be in true balance but this is the best moment to use their explosive battle for your gain.

Everything you need to know about how to do it is in the Decadent and Pure Revolution Act."

"Of course," Gryon said and quickly went crosslegged to cultivate.

While he was in that state, Evian used one of the authorities he had with his Seal, and infiltrated his subordinate's mind, reaching within for the source of the tattoos that donned his body and how they came to be.

His search drew him deep into Gryon's childhood, something the large man had never really spoken about. He watched as Gryon's father, Gryon Senior, spoke about the tattoos with pride and mentioned how only the 'best' of their clan deserved to wear them.

According to Gryon Senior, their family had not always lived in Verdelen City, and not everywhere in the Verlice Kingdom was as peaceful as the city was. An ironic thing to say considering the events that eventually unfolded in the city— Events Gryon himself was involved with.

Gryon Senior spoke of a culling that hit their clan at the hands of the more traditional knights. Their ways of muscle-defining might were not believed to be refined and were scorned. Jealousy, Gryon Senior called it. Either way, their Clan was struck.

Few survived and even fewer found haven but no one remained together.

Gryon Senior found Verdelen City, found a woman, and got married (as married as he could be in a foreign city with strange rites he did not truly understand). However, he still remembered their clan's customs.

Once Gryon was Ten years old (of age according to the dead clan's ancient laws), Gryon Senior branded his son with the traditional tattoos. Watching it and 'feeling' it happen, Evian knew the sting of his branding might as well have been a pinch.

Gryon Senior only lived twenty years more after that. Whatever battle he had fought to run from the destruction of his clan had harmed him more than he had thought to share. Gryon's mother Meyser followed soon after. She was how he got his last name.

Gryon wore his tattoos with pride from then on and why should he not? Evian thought.

The Tattoos provided such wonderful boons.

If there was an entire clan whose most gifted wore those tattoos, how were they so easily defeated? If their oldest members had made it at least to the sixth Order and enhanced that prowess with their Tattoos, they would be a force to be reckoned with… unless…

Now Evian studied the tattoos. Through Gryon's memories, he studied how the large man's body had reacted every time he used the tattoos and then his eyes widened before they narrowed as his lips twitched at the cruel irony,

'Of course, nothing comes without a price. For a wraith, the exchange for great power is to become a monster that feeds upon souls and in extreme cases, become a being that cannot blend with humans.

For Gryon's tattoos, the price of their Tattoo use is a devastating stunting of their potential.'

Every human has a Spiritual root. It might be too small to set them on the Martial or Arcane Path which will force them to live a normal life, but they had the root still. The Tattoos that Gryon and his Clan were branded with worked by forcefully expediting the death of their Spiritual root by forcing it to provide a level of power it had not yet developed enough to possess.

Gryon Senior and his Dead clan seemed primitive from the way he spoke of them which meant they likely had very little access to quality cultivation resources and techniques, and add the fact that their tattoos were doing them more harm than good by providing a very short term boon, it was no surprise they were eradicated. Almost at least.

Gryon was an interesting case though. Had Evian not interfered, he might still have made it to the Fourth or even Fifth Order before he reached his limits. It would take maybe a few hundreds of years but it was possible. Not because he was talented but because he had always been cautious about using the tattoos- Always saving them as life-saving cards.

Thirty minutes had now passed and Gryon had tempered the war raging within him and his cultivation now stood at the peak of the Third Order, almost breaking through.

He tried against the barrier and felt his entire body cracking under the pressure. Sweat beaded across his forehead and he huffed and puffed like one at his limits.

He was at his limits and might benefit from a rest and a reattempt but Evian had a different thought in mind.

He leaned low and placed a hand on Gryon's shoulder which caused the large man's eyes to open up to see him smiling at him,

"You're so lucky to have me."

"Huh?" Gryon let out, confused when he suddenly felt an intense influx of Eldritch energy in his body, forcing him to shut his eyes and raise his head in a yell,

"ARR—!"

Or at least he started to yell before Evian used the Seal to command him to remain quiet and take his pain silently.

Gryon's body began to crack, no blood bled from the cracks, rather they were lined with the unnatural mix of the battling forces of Spiritual and Eldritch energy and they remained like that for twenty minutes more.

Evian's eyes were closed as well, concentrating on keeping his Eldritch energy coursing through Gryon's body and forcing his Spiritual root to pull in Spiritual energy from the atmosphere to defeat the nefarious intrusion.

And then,

"It's done."

Evian pulled his hand off Gryon's shoulder and straightened his back while pulling back the Eldritch energy content he had forced into the large man's body.

Gryon was no longer in pain. On the contrary, he was in a state of peace while taking steady breaths as the cracks on the surface of his skin mended themselves while he dwelled on his new level of strength;

The Fourth Order!

Gryon's lips slowly stretched into a grin. The deepest and probably most genuine grin he had ever had in his life. For how long had he watched Gillert possess the might of the Fourth Order and wondered what it would be to wield such might? So long and finally, it was here. He was here.

And it was all thanks to one person.

Gryon fell forward in a bow again,

"Thank you, Master."

Evian blinked,

"Master?" he asked, sounding confused.

Gryon looked confused as well, a bit embarrassed but since he still felt this address was accurate he stuck by it,

"That IS how I should address you now, is it not?" he asked.

Evian stroked his beardless chin as though in thought but he was musing over how he liked the sound of devotion,

"When it is just us two, you can call me what you feel is right. Otherwise, call me by my name. Who knows how others will react to you calling me 'Master'."

"Of course, Master, I understand," Gryon said.

"Get up, we're done here. We should return to camp."

They walked for two minutes in silence before Evian looked to the side to see Gryon's face was red as though he was holding in a fart which was certainly not a pleasant look or thought,

"What is it?" he asked in exasperation.

"Oh it's nothing," Gryon said deflating, "It's just, I have some questions and I don't know if I should— can ask?"

"Ask," Evian said with a simple wave, "I'll decide if it's worth an answer after I hear it."

"Since when have you been- been-?"

"A wraith, Gryon. You can say it without bursting into flames, I assure you."

"Right. How long have you been a Wraith?"

"I died, Gryon. Remember? Death changed me, let's leave it at that."

"Alright. I have one more question."

"Let's hear it."

"Well, About Lordess Frida. I told Gillert you- well, you know, you and her- Anyway, he swears it's not possible. Not because you're not good-looking or anything but because, well, he thinks the Lordess is not all that into that kind of stuff…"

"She is," Evian said calmly.

"So you and her…?" Gryon said with a suggestive widening of his eyes,

Evian raised a finger,

"This is the one time I'll acknowledge a question regarding my partners but if you and Gillert made a bet, you would have won."

"Oh wow," Gryon let out, "Master?"

"Hmm?"

"You're awesome."