Chương 30: Mistveil

Gray remained entirely still. The suffocating pressure radiating from Gozen made one thing perfectly clear: even the slightest flinch would be fatal.

"I… I only assumed, sir." Gray forced the words.

"When I used Identify, your status page was full of question marks. I figured a rank that high was censored for security." A thick tendril of blood lashed from Ava's outstretched palm. It coiled tight around the blade of the kitchen knife pressed against Gray's neck. With a sharp yank, she tore the weapon from Gozen's grip and whipped it across the room. It clattered against the wooden boards.

"Jeez, Gozen!" Ava planted her hands on her hips.

"Is it really necessary to threaten the kid over a lucky guess?" Gozen let out a low rumble of annoyance, waving off her complaint. His large hands clamped onto Gray's shoulders, and he spun the boy around to face him. He tilted Gray's chin upward, his calloused thumb brushing against the thin red line on the teenager's neck to wipe the blood away.

"He'll live," Gozen muttered.

"It's his own fault for making dangerous assumptions. You should have taught him better, Ava. Even whispering the 'Sov' syllable in Sovereign out in the city will get you in trouble." Ava threw her arms wide." I should have taught him better? Last time I checked, you were his mentor. So get to mentoring." Her figure collapsed, dissolving into a pool of crimson that splashed loudly against the ground, and stray red droplets splattered across the room.

A few moments later, the aggressive, rhythmic thwack of a knife hitting a cutting board and the sharp clatter of cast-iron pans echoed from the kitchen. Gozen stared down at the blood puddle seeping into the grain beneath his shoes.

"I told you not to use that ability in the house! It stains the Aether Wood!" Gozen warped a sleek vacuum cleaner into his grip. He spent the next minute meticulously sucking up the residue while grumbling a string of curses under his breath. Once the area was completely spotless, he dismissed the machine into thin air. He turned back to Gray. Gozen wore the exhausted expression of a man whose brother had just dropped off a toddler to babysit without prior notice. Gray cleared his throat.

"Sir, I know we had some conflict during our previous transmissions. I want you to know I deeply apologize for everything I said, and—" Gozen raised a single palm.

"Stop. You and I both know you don't mean a word of that. The only thing I hate more than a belligerent brat is a coward who kisses the shoes of his highers." Gray instantly dropped the polite facade.

"Then I'll just come out and say it. What kind of mentor are you? You're perfectly aware of the issues with your class, yet you refuse to give me even a tiny bit of help." Gozen's eyes narrowed into slits.

"I said I hate your belligerence less than your polite act. That doesn't mean I appreciate it." He rubbed the back of his neck, the tension leaving his shoulders.

"I will admit, however, I haven't been the best teacher. Your frustration is warranted." Gozen gestured downward, instructing Gray to take a seat. The older man dropped into a cross-legged position, and Gray quickly mirrored him. With a casual flick of Gozen's wrist, a rectangular whetstone warped out of his storage ring. It planted itself on the ground between them with a heavy, solid thud. Gozen reached an arm to the side, and focused on the snow-white glaive mounted on the far wall.

The weapon began to emit a low, vibrating hum. A second later, the polearm tore free from its mount and flew directly into his waiting grip. He set the curved blade against the whetstone, filling the quiet room with a slow, rhythmic scrape.

"I've been on this planet for over two hundred years," Gozen said, his voice a low rumble over the grinding whetstone.

"During that time, I've had more than twenty disciples enter the race. Not a single one managed to pass the first level." He lifted his head, locking his gaze onto Gray.

"Until now." He slid a calloused thumb along the edge of the steel to test the bite.

"When they enter this new world filled with magic, they expect to obtain fantastical abilities. They want power that will blow away the Riftborn and carry them to glory. Instead, they get the ability to exhale a puff of harmless smoke." Gray folded his arms tight against his chest.

"Then shouldn't you try your absolute best to guide them? If the class is that flawed, isn't it your job to help them survive it?" The rhythmic scraping stopped. Gozen held Gray's stare.

"Let's get one thing clear. It isn't anyone's job to coddle a disciple forced upon them by the System. Count your blessings, kid. I fully intended to end your life if you reached the finish line, but your unique circumstances changed things. Be grateful that neglect was the worst you experienced from me." Gray scrambled backward on the wooden floor, an involuntary flinch.

"Planned to end my life. But not anymore. Right?"

"I did attempt to help the first ten." Gozen ignored the question entirely.

"The majority gave up the moment they witnessed their peers blasting fireballs or crushing boulders with their bare hands. After deciding there was no hope of reaching the top hundred, they quit and waited out the clock in the safezone." He rotated the polearm, inspecting the polish.

"But for the few who persevered and fought, the handicap of this class proved too immense. They handled the Goblins well enough. Even a desperate child with a rusted knife can kill a Goblin. The biggest issue arose when they had to face the other participants." Gozen's tone dropped into a bitter rasp.

"Their rage was never directed at their slayers. It was targeted at me. They used their dying breaths to curse my name." He looked back down at the weapon.

"I couldn't bear watching them bleed out because of my class. So I stopped trying. I have completely forgone mentoring any of my disciples ever since." Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Gray scoffed, a sharp sound piercing the tense quiet.

"So you're a coward." The glaive snapped up in a silver blur. The razor-sharp tip hummed to a halt mere inches from Gray's face, displacing a rush of air against his skin. Gray held entirely still, refusing to break eye contact with the older man.

"What did you call me, boy?" Gozen demanded, his voice a dangerous tremor that resonated off the walls.

"A coward." Gray kept his chin high.

"It isn't your fault the System invented this twisted game to force Kaisers into taking disciples, but you still have the power to help them. Shouldn't you do everything possible to get them through it, even if their odds of surviving are abysmal?" He took a slow breath, steadying his racing heart.

"I understand you don't want to develop a connection to someone destined to die. But the alternative is far worse. Leaving them in the dark? Letting them die ignorant and alone just to spare your own feelings? That isn't mercy. That's purely cowardice." Gozen held the deadly glare, the weapon perfectly steady at Gray's nose. Ten agonizing seconds ticked by. Slowly, a tiny, reluctant smirk tugged at the corner of Gozen's mouth. He pulled back the polearm and settled it onto the whetstone with a soft clack.

"Once I heard Ava was going to interfere," Gozen said, smoothly pivoting the conversation.

"I turned the transmission back on. I've been watching ever since your little stunt at the club." He resumed his rhythmic sharpening.

"You should know that woman doesn't do charity. This was the first time she ever stunted her own disciple's cultivation just to help a stranger. You owe her a great deal of gratitude."

"Yes, sir. I will always be in her debt." Gray swallowed hard. He reached up, genuinely surprised to find his head still firmly attached to his neck. Ava's intention was good, he thought, but I'm not so sure about Nabi's. Gozen paused his rhythmic grinding.

"And stop calling me 'sir.' It makes me feel ancient. Just use my name."

"But you are ancient." A playful grin broke through Gray's lingering terror.

"Over two hundred years old, in fact."

"Ha!" The older man's laughter boomed off the wooden walls.

"You should know two hundred for a Kaiser is barely middle-aged. I know a couple nearing five hundred who still look like they just hit their thirties."

"Are you not from here… Gozen?" Gray asked, catching Gozen's accent.

"I figured Ava wasn't native based on our conversation, but it sounds like you aren't either." Gozen gave a low grunt of confirmation.

"Summoned from Japan. Ava from Mexico. We participated in the same Natural Selection together, and we've made it to this point."

"It makes sense that different worlds would have different lifespans, but actually seeing it for myself makes it feel real. What is your lifespan at Sovereign?" Gray asked, scratching his chin. The whetstone scraped to a sudden halt. Gozen shot a warning glare across the room.

"Kaiser, boy. I am at the Kaiser rank." Gray offered a slow nod, registering the unspoken rule.

"Kaiser. Understood."

"Anyway, the question I asked Ava earlier," Gray pressed on, eager to shift the subject.

"What is this class?" Gozen didn't answer right away. He tossed the polished glaive into the air, letting the weapon drift seamlessly back onto its wall mount. A tiny twitch of his finger summoned a ceramic gourd into his waiting grip. He popped the wooden cork, took a long pull of the sake, and then extended the jug out. Gray blinked at the offering. Politeness quickly won out over caution. Accepting the heavy jug with both hands, he turned his shoulder slightly out of respect and tilted his head back.

Liquid fire coated his tongue. He forced the alcohol down his throat and immediately choked, gasping desperately for cool air. The harsh burn shot straight up into his sinuses, forcing his eyes shut in a tight wince. Gozen snatched the gourd back with a hearty, booming laugh.

"Never touched a drop of alcohol before, have you? It's absolutely surreal. The System drafts kids into a literal death game the second they turn eighteen, yet you're technically still too young to buy a drink back on Earth!" He downed another mouthful of sake, finishing with a loud, unapologetic belch.

"To put it simply," Gozen began. The booming cheer vanished from his face, replaced by seriousness.

"The Mistveil class is a terrible one to inherit for the Natural Selection. It is, by nature, a late bloomer." He rested his forearms against his knees.

"It suffers a slow start because it completely lacks the immediate, destructive firepower of other paths in the Awakened Tier. Normally, a class that takes time to cultivate isn't an issue for the native Astorian. They train in heavily controlled environments, and their families instruct them from the absolute safety of their own homes."

"But for an Awakened forced into Natural Selection, time is a luxury you do not possess. The System throws you straight onto the battlefield the very second you choose a class. No safe spaces. No practice dummies. You must kill or be killed, starting on Day One."

"There are plenty of other classes with steep learning curves, but Mistveil sits squarely at the pinnacle. And as you might have guessed, it all comes down to the elemental affinity." Gozen raised an index finger. A perfectly formed ring of white vapor bloomed from the tip.

"The science on Earth is quite similar to this planet. Erupting a cloud from your body is simple enough. The true bottleneck is manipulation. Clouds are a brutally tedious element to control because they simultaneously exist as all three states of matter: gas, liquid, and solid."

"You have to understand how to control the invisible, gaseous water vapor within the mist, alongside the liquid droplets holding the structure together." Gozen pointed toward the small ring of vapor still drifting in the air between them.

"They solidify only because of the mana infused within them. That density allows you to mold the vapor into whatever shape you desire. This is not a skill you can master in a day. It usually takes months." Gray tightened his jaw as he processed the new logic.

"If the science is that precise, shouldn't other classes struggle just as much? For instance, a fire mage. To truly control a flame, wouldn't they need a perfect understanding of the carbon dioxide, and the exact ratio of oxygen fueling the fire?"

"You are absolutely correct," Gozen agreed.

"They do struggle. That is exactly why no fire class can shape the physical form of their flames. That specific kind of control is reserved for a rare few, such as a water or blood mage." He waved a hand dismissively.

"A pyromancer does not care about sculpting the shape of a blaze, though. Their active skills provide more than enough sheer destruction to cover for it. An elementalist's baseline mastery allows them to unleash their element, but that is the absolute limit. The base mastery ability exists primarily to boost the potency of the rest of the abilities in your loadout. An unshaped, raw elemental attack is pointless. It simply lacks the lethal firepower of a dedicated spell."

Gozen leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

"That does not mean raw elements lack utility, however. The Mistveil path excels at utility. You already witnessed that firsthand when you faced your clone." The memory of the Mirror Matchup rushed back into Gray. A cold sweat prickled the back of his neck as he recalled the brutal fight. He realized just how lucky he was to have walked away from that encounter with his life. The duplicate possessed the raw ability to craft anything imaginable from the mist.

The only thing limiting its lethality had been the lack of a human imagination. Gray leaned forward, suddenly eager.

"Can you teach me how to shape my clouds? If we run out of time here, could you guide me through the transmission once I teleport back into the race?" Gozen stroked his chin, his eyes distant with thought.

"I could probably teach you how to manifest one of those vapor-whips right now. A technique that normally requires a month of grueling practice would take mere minutes with me in the room. But there is a glaring issue." He crossed his arms over his chest. A spark of excitement flared in Gray's chest, only to extinguish a second later. He knew the cruel rules of this world too well by now. Nothing ever came without a catch.

"And what might that be?" Gray pressed, bracing himself. Gozen stared right through him.

"You do not possess the power to manipulate clouds."