Roy curled into a ball on the floor of his house as thunder rumbled outside and rain began pattering on the roof above. Within a few seconds, it began to leak, miserably dripping water down onto him. There was nothing he could do, so he just closed his eyes, allowing the cold water to land on him, seeping into his muddied robes.
If this kept up for too much longer, he might very well be tempted to take his own life. Perhaps death would be a release from the misery of his everyday existence. With those thoughts in mind and shivering against the cold, Roy finally succumbed to exhaustion and slipped into an uneasy sleep.
***
A loud banging at his door, accompanied by the angry voice of Elder Shota, roused Roy from a miserable sleep. Groaning slightly, he dragged himself to the door, feeling dried mud flaking off his clothes and skin as he did so. Pulling the door open, he blinked up into the early morning sunlight, staring up at the older man.
“You were supposed to pick up the constructs and head out to collect gravel nearly two hours ago,” Shota said, not commenting on his appearance.
He’d likely already heard the story and decided that it was no excuse for him not to work.
“What’s the point of working, if all my money will go to that weasel Koya?” Roy asked bitterly, not daring to meet Elder Shota’s eyes.
He knew talking this way was improper, especially for a cripple, but he was too miserable to care.
“The point of working is so that you can continue breathing,” Shota said simply. “If you cease to be of use to the clan, they will cast you out into the wild, where you will be killed within the day.”
“And what if I don’t care whether I live or die?” Roy asked in a quiet voice.
Elder Shota was quiet for a few long moments before letting out a sigh.
“I know that life has not been easy for you, Herald Leroy, but giving up at such a young age is shameful.”
Roy finally looked up, craning his neck to meet the older man’s eyes.
“I have not given up. Rather the world seems to have given up on me. How can I, an outcast and cripple, hope to live in a world where people can slice boulders to ribbons with a thought? How can I hope to survive in a world where anyone can do whatever they’d like to me and get away with it, just because I am weak? There is no justice in this world. If there was, the Martial Arts wouldn’t even exist. No one person should have that kind of power over another.”
His eyes blazed with anger as he stared up at the older man, daring him to argue. He didn’t, merely dipping his chin a fraction of an inch.
“Yes. What you say is indeed true. There is no justice in this world. But you are weak, and therefore, you can do nothing about it.”
Roy felt his anger spike. Despite him saying as much only seconds before, it still hurt what little pride he had left to hear it spoken out loud once again.
“But,” Elder Shota continued. “It is still possible to live a normal life. Yes, it may seem hopeless now, but someday you will look back on this day and laugh.”
Roy very much doubted that, but he wasn’t about to argue with the old man. It would do him no good.
“I heard about the shattered brace,” the old man continued, placing a new one on the ground near him with a loud thunk. “I also heard about the punishment administered by Lynn. Though I know you to be innocent, her standing in the clan is too great to contradict her. You are also a cripple and therefore, no one would, even if they could. The best I can do is assure that you will not go hungry in the next three months.”
Roy’s eyes widened at that.
Did Elder Shota just offer him free food for three months? No one had ever shown him such kindness within the clan.
“Get yourself cleaned up,” Shota said, turning his back to him. “I expect you at the pavilion within the hour.”
Then he walked away, leaving Roy feeling just a bit more optimistic.
3
Roy set out into the surrounding forest forty-five minutes later. He carried with him a small cloth napkin which contained three rice-balls, a small packet of jam, and some water. A pack was slung over his shoulder containing a couple of books as well. The two constructs used to gather the gravel were tied to his rope belt. He also carried a walking stick in his right hand to help him along.
After taking a steaming hot bath and eating a good breakfast, Roy was feeling much better about his life. Sure, it was horrible that Koya had been able to do what he did and get away with it, but now he might actually have someone on his side. Elder Shota had treated him well, and for the first time in a long time, he felt hopeful for the future.
He’d set out later than he’d planned, so he was forced to hurry, hobbling down the well-worn dirt path through the lightly swaying trees. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, painting the ground before him in dappled shadows. Roy knew that for Light Path cultivators, this would be an ideal location for gathering Essence.
Breathing deeply, Roy could detect a slightly damp smell, likely still lingering from last night’s rain. However, the sunlight had been strong enough to mostly dry the area, though a few droplets of water did fall on him every time the wind rustled through the branches overhead. He came to a fork in the path. One branched sharply to the right, leading to the clan’s Dungeon, an area rich with Essence, powerful Beasts, and herbs that would help Martial Artists advance their Paths. The other, he knew, would lead deeper into the woods.
With a sigh, Roy turned down the left-hand path, heading into the woods and away from the Dungeon. He’d never been allowed near the Dungeon, due to his deformity, but despite the danger it posed to him as a cripple with no core, he’d always wanted to see it. He’d heard stories of the Dungeon from others in the clan, and it sounded wonderful.
Letting out another sigh, Roy picked up his pace as best he could, limping down the winding dirt path. Even though the path was shaded, the air was damp and heavy with moisture, so by the time he arrived at his destination nearly two hours later, his clothes were sticking to him, and his hair was plastered to his forehead in sweaty strands.
He stopped, taking a few moments to catch his breath and looked around for the marking he’d left the last time he’d been here. This would tell him where to place the mining and gathering tools. It took him a few seconds, but his eyes soon found the telltale red flag he’d planted in the ground. Limping tiredly over to the spot, he crouched down and reached to his belt for the first construct.
Normally, a construct like this could only be activated with Water Essence, but since he didn’t have any, the clan smiths had designed them to be able to take a charge. They’d filled it with Water Essence the day before and all he had to do to activate it was flip a switch. The Essence would power the machine until it ran dry, at which point he would head back to the village.
Placing the first metal disc on the ground, Roy hit the button and stepped back. Eight tentacles of Water Essence sprouted from the sides, reaching up into the air. They then all coiled up and slammed into the ground, sending up a shower of dirt and burrowing down a good ten feet. As soon as the construct began vibrating, Roy knew that the ground was already being churned up and the solid stone was being broken down.
He then placed the second construct next to it, pressing the button and watching it burrow into the ground as well. This one used a single, wide tendril of Water Essence. It would burrow down, then hollow out, serving as a makeshift tube. All the loose stone churned up by the other construct would then be sucked in and filtered, before being stored in a pocket dimension.
Once he’d gotten the constructs set up and going, Roy was quick to strip out of his sweaty outer robe and hang it from a tree branch. Now that the machines were going, he was free to relax until they were done. He pulled his undershirt over his head as well, revealing a well-built chest and defined abdominal muscles.