Chương 51: Interlude IIIA

Interlude III Jinn With the guild and the Legionaries' help, it didn't take them long to locate the rift and prepare for a final expedition to clear it once and for all. Jinn had enlisted his name in the mission even though they likely didn't require his help, but he'd still join them and make sure everything went accordingly. So, here they were, at first light, standing at the foothills, waiting for everyone to arrive.

"Be careful out there," Ashlyn said, stretching his enchanted cloak's wrinkled collar with her fingertips.

"Corpse flies aren't the strongest demon out there, but I don't have to tell you how tricky those blighted things can be." Jinn nodded, catching her palm to plant a kiss on the back of her hand.

"With all the legionaries and the guildsmen there with us," he said, "I don't think I would have to do a lot if everything went on as planned. I'd be paid for merely spectating." Ashlyn snorted.

"As if that had ever stopped you from throwing yourself into a fight."

"No promises," he said, shooting a lopsided grin. Finally, his gaze turned towards his son. Arilyn was shooting him glances from the moment Jinn began preparing. Evidently, his son had something to say. Their relationship had grown by a fair margin since he started training him, and spending more time with him, but the boy was still hesitant to speak his mind sometimes. Considering he was among the first to encounter those disgusting monsters, Arilyn had every right to fear, though it could be something deeper.

"I'll be fine, Son," Jinn assured, ruffling a palm over his head.

"Do you really have to go?" Arilyn finally asked, lips pressed to a thin line, as if he was leaving for a long time. It hadn't been a full year since Jinn returned to them, and throughout that time, he avoided joining any battle, giving them all his time. Perhaps he was trying to make up for the time lost. But his enlistment to this expedition changed that. Especially since Arilyn had seen the threat with his own eyes. A blighted rift had already taken years of his life from his family.

Jinn would not let it happen twice.

"I don't," Jinn said truthfully, "but someone has to be there. If I don't, your mom would have likely joined in my stead." And I couldn't let that happen, not with the state she's in. Jinn hugged him firmly, which embarrassed Arilyn more than it should have. Perhaps because of the dozens of folks watching.

"This is the duty of those with power." Arilyn stared at him for an extended moment before giving a slow nod, though he probably hadn't understood it all.

"If it reassures you any better," Jinn said, whispering into his son's ear, "I may not be a Shaper, but I have reached Fabled Class." That got his attention, causing him to lose his words. He failed to reply for a brief moment, only staring at Jinn in disbelief.

"Truly?" Jinn winked at him before bidding his goodbyes. The legionaries and the guildsmen were already waiting, so Jinn wasted no more time and joined them on the march. The lowest rank among them was at the peak of common class Augmenters, enabling them to move at a faster rate. By the time the sun rose overhead, and the mist vanished, they had already marched halfway to their destination.

There were exactly 36 people on this expedition, a dozen of them from the legionary ranks, and the rest were either from the local guild or from the main branch. Half of the numbers from Serpent's Spite sported fresh recruits, while the other half had respectable adventurers and fighters among them, despite them treating the mission more as an educational expedition than a serious crisis.

A Prestigious Class Augmenter by the name of Quintus Septimus was leading them, while also stacked with two noble-class shapers and two healers. The legionaries, on the other hand, were mostly augmenters, with the exception of one Noble Immunis of Enchanter Class Shaper. They had come in more numbers, though they left half of the footsoldiers with the sentries in case anything went amiss.

Along with two more prestigious classes, in Arata and Guildmaster Rowin, the team was well-prepared to deal with a tier-III rift, though what they were likely facing was a tier lower. Likely, because you could never be certain of those forsaken things. They were perhaps missing a few battle shapers, but that could not be helped. Instead of taking greenhorn shapers, it was better to have more battle-hardened warriors.

"It's funny, isn't it?" a familiar voice said as the figure of Arata crept closer to him.

"You, now a family man, and I, in the uniform of the Alberan Empire, joining together. Perhaps even the Oracle is baffled by this miracle." Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Jinn shot his old colleague a look and thought better of entertaining him.

"You are still as quiet as ever," Arata muttered.

"Some things stay the same forever, it seems."

"I can say the same about you," Jinn finally said.

"You're still as chirpy." From the look of it, it appeared Guildman Septimus called for a timely repose. Although most Noble Class and higher didn't need one, the same couldn't be said about the Common class warriors.

"Can't blame me," Arata said, shrugging.

"It's hard to get along much less talk freely with the imbeciles in my century." A few heads turned in their direction, mostly the soldiers in Arata's command.

"And yes, you're the biggest among them, Lucien," barked Arata.

"I hope you lose a leg in this expedition, Centurion," returned the Immunis, "and yield your title." The other legionaries barked laughs from their sitting, some clasping Lucien on the shoulder.

"See what I'm dealing with?" Arata sighed.

"I should've simply returned home. These imperials and even their soldiers only think about their own agendas and goals." Jinn had his thoughts about it, and while he didn't strongly agree with Arata on this, there was some truth to it—something that had frustrated him to no end when he first arrived in the Empire. Over the years, he had learned they were all but the same, every group trying to do what was best for themselves while looking out for each other. He couldn't blame them for it.

"I'm actually surprised you haven't brought your Dominus Dame along, Jinn. We could have used her help, you know..." The look in Jinn's eyes stopped Arata from blabbering whatever was in his mind.

"Never mind... Consider I implied nothing."

"Hope I'm not disturbing," a new voice interjected, this time in the elderly form of Guildmaster Rowin, much to his relief.

"It seems there is a good bit of history between you and Centurion Arata, eh, Jinn?"

"You got that exactly right," Arata said, tiptoeing to clasp his arm over Jinn's shoulders.

"Jinn and I go way back, born and brought up in the same place, though we had missed each other for a long time. In our tongue, it wouldn't be wrong to call us Brothers of War. Isn't that right, Tai'shin?" Jinn pushed the arm off him.

"We are merely old colleagues," The old man was seasoned enough to notice the invisible contention between them, but he was also experienced enough to laugh it off, diffusing the tension.

"Whatever you say," laughed Rowin.

"It's good that you two are here. These old bones of mine feel much reassured with both of your presence."

"Don't count on me too highly, my good sir," Arata laughed.

"My task merely entailed inspecting and supervising. The guild has to earn their keep. It is the reason why the Empire has left them to their devices all these years." Jinn ignored him and shifted his attention to others in the expedition, trying to map out everyone's expertise. They were already sitting in little groups of four or six, each of whom would play a part in the formation during battle. One of the odd additions to their expedition had been Delric, the combat instructor from Arlim's Institution.

The man was only an early noble class augmenter with a remarkable gift of Uncommon Durability. He was a good fighter, too, though lacking experience. Like Jinn, he didn't need to enlist his name, either. Knowing the young man a little, Jinn would bet ten silver leafs that he was here to prove himself, or to get someone else's acknowledgement. The corpse flies were tricky to deal with due to their speed and aerial advantage.

Good swordsmanship was barely enough to give one a fighting chance, and he hardly had good gear, save for the Elite Grade sword. The young man was sitting with the female shaper from the guild, talking with such familiarity that it made others believe there was a story between them.

"Ah, Tuli, she used to be my star pupil—the best one to date," Guildmaster Rowin said, his voice full of pride.

"But as you can imagine, those who shine too brightly are often caught up by bigger dreams and ambitions." Although his voice was not loud, the words carried over to the girl in question, as she shot a gaze in their direction.

"What do you mean by saying was your disciple, old man?" the girl said, shooting a glare at the guild master.

"I barely left town for a couple of years, and you're already acting like you're free of me?" Rowin chuckled.

"Wouldn't dream of it, though I fear your whole focus will be on a certain someone throughout your stay." He shot a suggestive glance, causing the young girl to flush red as a tomato. Although she tried to hide it through her fuming, their companions all laughed at her expense. Even Jinn's lips curved upwards a smidge. Delric, frustrated with all this attention, stood up and excused himself, setting the girl to run after him.

"They used to be inseparable in their days," the old man said with a sigh.

"But alas! their paths diverged badly... Don't believe Delric to be some ignorant bumpkin, though. He did quite well in Klearon, squired under a Knight for a couple of seasons... Unfortunate that his straightforward nature caused him to receive the ire of some patrician kids, and had to drop out." The old man shook his head.

"Such a waste."

"Hah," Arata clicked his tongue.

"Not the first time I'm hearing something like this. You Imperials are too hard on all this class and caste nonsense." Rowin shrugged.

"It is what it is. The privileged are happy with their position, but at least they give the unprivileged a chance to rise through the ranks and join them. I myself was born from a more common background. Hadn't been easy, all these years, but I can proudly say I got here all by myself." Jinn stared at Arata. He could tell what the fellow was thinking.

He looked like he wanted to argue that the high patrician class's so-called "chance" for the lower class hardly accounted for much, that one needed to bow down for scraps to stand a chance at becoming their foot soldiers, but that would be disrespectful to the old man, so he restrained himself from speaking his mind. Perhaps his old colleague had grown a bit over the years they had missed. Their short break was finally over as Quintus Septimus commanded the march once again.

This time, they only stopped before their destination—a murky-looking entrance to a cavern channel deep within the mountain range. There were many such cavern systems out there, though none gave off the ominous vibe that this one did. Jinn could feel the foul essence wafting in the air, prickling at his skin. He had no choice but to employ his aura to obstruct it.

They took their time forming a strategy and going over the basics once again before spearheading into the dark channel, leaving a group of six outside to guard. There was no chance of someone stumbling upon the cavern out there, but basic protocol warranted those guards. Arata joined his legionaries on the back, while Jinn stood on the right with the local group. It wasn't an easy task to move thirty-odd people through the narrow passage. Thankfully, the tunnel widened as they stepped hundreds of metres down.

The light construct allowed Jinn to see that the surface of the walls was rough and craggy, suggesting it wasn't man-made. The air was stale and damp, saturated with the foul essence of the rift.

"How did this come to be out here?" someone muttered as they moved cautiously in the chain of formation. As they went deeper, Jinn felt the foul essence in the air growing stronger, making the common class fighters uncomfortable, though that hardly compared to the panic set off by loud screeches overhead the very next moment. They hadn't yet entered the rift, and the trouble was already upon them.