Mentally restored, Vir exited his mental construct. He found that in its current form, the mindscape granted him a two-to-one time advantage versus reality. Every hour spent in there was a half hour in reality. Cirayus mentioned that this scaling factor would increase as Vir opened more Chakras. Of course, his body remained where it was—it was only his mind that traveled.
Eager to expand his mindscape, Vir had started working on opening the Life Chakra, finding it slow going, especially without Cirayus to help guide the process. The giant had told him to concentrate on the presence of people around him—even when he wasn’t actively meditating. Right now, the only people around him were Darsh and Hetal, and they were some distance away.
Vir expected to have a better time of it in Samar Patag.
It was a departure from how he trained the Foundation Chakra, but it made sense that each would have its own unique way of being trained.
The initial Chakras were said to be the easiest, but given how long it took him to open the Foundation Chakra, Vir braced himself for the long haul. And while Shardul mentioned he could commune with his predecessors upon opening his Chakra, Vir wasn’t sure if he wanted to confront Ekanai so soon after the events of the cavern. He wasn’t sure how much the demon would be able to help him.
Vir had come to peace with the demon being a part of him… But that didn’t mean he and the warrior would get along. Of concern was whether the true Ekanai would appear, or the distorted version that’d taken possession of Vir’s body on multiple occasions.
“Ready to go?” Darsh asked as Vir approached. The boy had arisen some minutes prior and was tending to their Ash’va. His bleary-eyed sister, however, had only just sat herself up.
“We should arrive at Samar Patag before the day’s out,” Darsh announced. “We’d best get moving.”
Vir nodded. Today was the day he would finally see the city that bore so much of his past. The city his father had died protecting.
“Let’s go.”
Vir had kept his expectations to a minimum. A city that had fallen from its height, conquered and driven to the ground by despotic leadership… Vir had seen Daha. He’d seen what effect that held.
Still, this was his city. The land of his parents. His clan. Vir couldn’t quell his excitement.
They approached from the east, and Vir took note of the terrain along the way. The desert had given way to a desert forest. Tall trees soared nearly as tall as the Godshollow, but these were spindly and thin. And seemingly half-dead. They bore few leaves at all, and the ground under them, instead of being the rich fertile soil Vir expected from a forest, was sandy, red, and similar to the desert they’d traversed until now.
Vir wiped a bead of sweat from his brow—the incessant humidity might’ve abated somewhat, but the heat remained.
Then the enormous inland Gargan Sea came into view, and they followed its coast to the walls of Samar Patag. Ramshackle walls. The stonework had been patched haphazardly after the Chitrans sacked it. Several sections of the wall were discolored, and if Vir wasn’t wrong, they’d been patched with clay instead of stone. A cost-saving measure, no doubt.
That wall wouldn’t stand a chance against a half-decent army.
Then again, what army would attack the Chitrans? They’d been the ones to unite the tribes, after all. Ironic, since that was exactly the goal Cirayus wished for. The Chits simply used less-than-desirable means to attain it.
For all Vir knew, the demon clans might love the Chitrans. It could very well be a time of prosperity for the realm.
One can always hope…
It was a fool’s hope, Vir knew. He’d seen a village already, and the sorry state of the travelers who wished to enter the city spoke volumes.
For one, there were only two or three people ahead of them at the checkpoint wishing to enter. About an equal number departed the city while they waited. That didn’t bode well. Even Daha had dozens lining up to enter at all hours of the day, and there was always enough traffic along its roads to cause congestion.
Avi was on another level beyond that. Its ports burst with activity.
The lack of traffic was telling. The trade and travel between Samar Patag and the other strongholds, was little to nonexistent.
“This is where we part ways,” Vir said, before adding, “for now…” when he saw the crestfallen look on the siblings’ faces.
“Y-You sure?” Darsh asked.
“I’ve got my own ways of entering the city,” Vir said with a placating smile. “Don’t worry about me. Get your tasks done, then hurry home, alright?”
The siblings nodded obediently.
“It was fun, Neel! Let’s meet up again soon!”
Vir waved as he walked away from the gate. When he was far enough, he began Leaping parallel to the wall, right below it, though he kept his jumps shorter to conserve prana.
The design of Samar Patag’s walls had the ramparts overhang slightly above the wall itself. This helped to attack enemies right at the wall, but it also obscured the land directly underneath—unless someone happened to look straight down through a rampart murder hole.
And while the ramparts were patrolled, there weren’t nearly as many guards as in Daha. As rundown as that country was, they at least maintained their defenses.
Likely because King Rayid constantly feared invasion. The Chitrans have grown complacent.
Thanks to the few guards, Vir had no issue remaining undetected.
Inserting spies into the city would be trivial, even if the gates were guarded vigilantly. Which they really weren’t. Anyone with a Chitran Calling badge could get through.
Using the wall’s own shadow, Vir invoked Dance of the Shadow Demon and slipped through. He’d briefly considered conserving prana and entering some other way, but with Prana Current, it wouldn’t take long at all to restore what he’d lost.
He was in. After a journey across three realms, he was home.
10SAMAR PATAG
From the shadows, Vir spotted many exits. The insides of shacks, dark alleys, and plenty of exits along the wall.
In all of them, the common theme was squalor. A disturbing thought crossed his mind. He’d either entered a slum, or the entire city was this way. He prayed to all the gods it wasn’t the latter.
Vir braced himself for the stench and exited a shadow into a deserted alley. His mental preparation did little good. The putrid smell of sewage and grime hit him with the force of Balancer of Scales.
It’d been so long since he’d dealt with such putrid conditions that he’d nearly forgotten just how horrid it was. Even then, this was worse than the Warrens at Daha. This was… unlivable.
Nobody noticed his approach—the emaciated demons slumped against the alley’s stone walls either had their eyes closed, or looked off into the distance, defocused.
Are these all… my people? Vir thought in horror.
Street after street—there was little difference. This entire section of the city was a slum. An enormous, overpopulated slum full of starving, broken demons.
In the past, he’d thought little of the plight of the poor. He’d experience poverty himself, after all. He understood what it was like. While pitiable, ultimately, everyone had to look out for themselves.
But now? How could he possibly think that way, knowing that this was the clan his parents and thousands of other Gargans had sacrificed their lives to protect? What would they say if they saw the city in such a sorry state?