Pandora Unchained - a Cultivation Progression Fantasy

One hour later, Lawrence was finished with the inheritance. Sorin wore a deep frown as his poisons moved throughout his body, inspecting his sanctified flesh, his now-unsealed bones, and his fully open meridians.

Only tiny fragments remained of the divine seal on the rogue’s Governing Vessel, but thanks to Ophiuchan Simulation, he was able to approximate its strength and effectiveness. His seal was originally quite weak but still too powerful for me to break through without seriously wounding or killing him. Yet, somehow, the corruption in the atmosphere eroded it. The Divine Inheritance of Ariadne wasn’t the root cause but the tipping point.

“So, doc? Am I a God Seed now?” said Lawrence with a grin. “I always knew I was destined for greatness given my dashing good looks and refined tastes. Stephan, you look like you swallowed a lemon. Don’t worry; I’ll take you out the next time I do the rounds and find you something nice to look at.”

“You aren’t a God Seed, Lawrence,” said Sorin, shaking his head as he pulled back his poisons.

“What?” exclaimed Lawrence. “But—look at what I can do now! Look at my mana; it’s slightly golden. Isn’t that something only God Seeds can do?”

“I was under that distinct impression as well,” said Daphne. “I’m sure it’s the same for Stephan. Has the Order of Phantasia ever heard of anything like this?”

“Not to my knowledge,” said Astley. “That said, I hardly know everything.”

“You’re definitely not a God Seed, Lawrence,” Sorin repeated. “For one, you’re much weaker than any of the existing God Seeds. The fact that you somehow managed to open your divine meridian and fully unseal our bones doesn’t change that.

“Your abilities, as far as I can tell, are still heroic. You haven’t received the overall empowerment a God Seed would receive at your level. And more importantly, your gates are still sealed. Your Gate of Initiation has opened slightly to accommodate divine energy, but none of the other gates are open.”

Sorin had done much research into God Seeds since arriving in Olympia. From what he’d discovered, God Seeds always had fully unsealed constitutions. This was the case even for previous God Seeds of Asclepius. His case was the sole exception, something like a secondary divine quest that would impede his advancement even if he solved the issue of evolving his poisons.

Other God Seeds need to rack up accomplishments according to their divine quests. Once they do so, their patrons facilitate their ascension. But Asclepius’s soul fragment is no more, so I can’t rely on Divine Missions to grow, I can only rely on my own efforts to evolve my poisons and unseal my constitution, just as I always have.

As far as he could tell, the God Seed Rankings only considered relative levels of sanctification, not achievements. Charles occupied the spot just above Sorin and had sanctified 20 percent of his flesh. Next was Michael, who’d sanctified 25 percent of his flesh. Too much time had passed since their adventures together in Delphi, and he was no longer sure how well he matched up to them.

“So I’m…”

“You’re the cultivator of a divine inheritance,” Sorin confirmed. “One that’s surpassed his trash physique to attain a physique only God Seeds can hope for. If your compatibility was better, you might even be able to pass off for a legitimate God Seed, but by my estimates, you’re less than 40 percent compatible with Adriadne’s inheritance. The cutoff for God Seeds is upward of 90 percent compatibility. As for why this happened, my working hypothesis is that you’re basically trash.”

“That’s not very nice, Sorin,” Lawrence huffed. “I do quite well for myself, thank you very much.”

“Sorry, I misspoke,” said Sorin. “I meant to say that your physique is trash. It’s the reason you succeeded. Stephan, Daphne, and Astley wouldn’t be able to. Gareth might stand a chance at achieving something similar, but it’s too early to tell.”

“Shouldn’t it be the opposite?” asked Stephan. “As far as I know, only talented cultivators can cultivate top-tier inheritances. Less talented cultivators who try to force the matter stand a good chance at killing themselves.”

Sorin sighed. “In truth, you never really needed my help, Stephan. I’ve only accelerated the progress of your cultivation. You would have probably reached this point by yourself after a few decades.

“Lawrence, on the other hand, might never have reached Bone-Forging without my intervention. He has just enough talent that I was able to forcefully open up his meridians, unseal his bones, and even open his Gate of Initiation to 90 percent. If left to his own devices, however, he would never have been able to get this far, not even with all the York Clan’s financial help and impressive techniques.

The group still seemed confused, so Sorin changed his approach. “Talent is something that’s inherited. It’s both an enabler and a limiter. Stephan makes a great Beast Shift Warrior, but he would never excel at anything else. His path is restricted, and likewise, his physique is both enabled and restricted. The seals on his meridians and bones past a certain point are stronger compared to Lawrence’s. Conversely, those below that point are much weaker.

“The situation is even more exaggerated in a major clan that produces God Seeds. Members of the main Kepler Clan line literally cannot cultivate any arts unrelated to poison and life. In return, they excel at cultivating any of these arts. They also possess high spiritual strength that enables them to become excellent physicians.

“As for their restrictions… they’re countless times more powerful than Stephan’s. Forcefully opening a Kepler Clansman’s meridians is much more difficult than opening a York Clansman’s meridians. It’s why such an emphasis is placed on screening out talent.”

“So what you’re saying is that I’m awesome,” said Lawrence.

“He’s saying you’re a special kind of trash, and so am I,” said Gareth. “It’s the reason why we’ve always been weaker than Daphne, Gareth, and Astley. Their physiques are simply better than ours. But that just might give us some opportunities that are barred to them, like cultivating other divine inheritances.”

“I honestly can’t think of any other explanation,” said Sorin helplessly. “I did a lot of research back in Delphi and here in Olympia on the subject, but I’ve never heard of divine inheritances being cultivated outside certain clans. A bloodline connection or at least a karmic connection is required.

“In any case, Lawrence is in good health. His His energies have been upgraded, so it’s a matter of whether or not he can handle the changes. Why don’t we clear the other mountain before deciding on the difficulty of the final trial? We can always change the number of eggs offered up according to how comfortable we feel.”

“I think that’s a very reasonable suggestion,” said Stephan. “Lawrence, why don’t you show us what you’ve got?”

The rogue led the way to the peak inhabited by violet-feathered harpies with surprising speed. By the time they arrived at the first group, Lawrence had already tied them up into compromising positions with strings of shadow. This restraining ability, Seven String Binding, was one of the primary skills he’d gained from Ariadne’s inheritance. The strings couldn’t cut their targets, but they could both restrain and strangulate. According to Lawrence, a greater mastery of the skill would allow him to drain energy from his enemies.

The second useful ability he gained was called Pathfinder. By rolling out a ball of shadowy string, he was able to determine the most efficient pathing toward a target or through an obstacle. Clearing out the peak took no time at all, thanks to his abilities, and they were even able to discover nests hidden by illusions.

After clearing the second peak, their party ascended Mount Pleasant and arrived at the deserted Temple of the Furies. Violent winds blasted their group as they made their way up a set of cracked stairs over a hundred feet wide and ten miles long.

Every step they took released a golden mist that infused and strengthened their flesh. Lawrence and Gareth, whose cultivations had stalled at ten percent sanctification, began inching up, with no indication of an upper limit.

Unfortunately, there was no such thing as a free lunch. It soon became apparent that the divinity infusing their bodies had a purpose. Sorin felt a sharp increase in anger at his clan, his situation, and the roadblocks in his research. He also felt indignant about the people who skirted the rules, like the Hyde Clan and Zeis Clan. He thought of Gabriella, who’d seemingly forgotten him. Everything seemed so unfair.

He wasn’t the only one affected in this way. More than once, he felt a blare of murderous intent from Gareth, his watchman, and territorial bursts of energy from Stephan. Daphne’s expression turned cold intermittently, and Astley’s eyes flashed with madness.

It took them an hour to reach the top of the cleaved-off mountain peak. Like the stairs before, the opened-air Temple of the Furies was dilapidated but serviceable. Golden energy rife with judgment and indignation filled the temple’s walls, and it was only with great effort that they made their way to a large ritual circle of white flame in front of the central altar.

“This must be the sacrificial circle we’re meant to use to summon the guardians,” said Gareth. “Are we sure we want to do this, though? The energy in this place is affecting our mental stability. There’s no telling what will happen if all that energy is concentrated in one place.

“You worry too much,” Daphne scoffed. “This is a dungeon, a creation of Lord Hope. If the divinity in this place was part of the challenge, the mission statement would have said so. The guardians are all we need to worry about. What’s more, this is a basic dungeon. No matter what, the difficulty will not exceed the maximum difficulty assignable to a basic-tier unclaimed dungeon.”

Stephan further confirmed Daphne’s words. In the end, they decided to face the strongest available boss and placed 27 eggs from 27 different harpy nests inside the ritual circle.

The circle engulfed the eggs. Twenty-seven chains of white flame shot out from the circle, plunged into the temple walls, and began extracting the divinity in the temple to infuse it into three gargoyle-like statues clinging to the ceiling.

Cracks appeared on the statues. White feathers with a gold hue shook off chips of broken rock to reveal perfect female harpies twice as large as the other harpies they’d encountered.

“The Puppets of the Tempter have finally arrived,” spoke the bow-wielding harpy on the left. A black stripe was painted across her piercing golden eyes.

“As it was written,” said a whip-wielding harpy on the right with seductive eyes. Her armor was extremely revealing to the point that it was difficult to look away.

“As our mastery foretold,” agreed the central harpy bearing a golden spear. Her eyes radiated an aura of command. Her spear smelled of lightning and danger. The harpy eyes lingered on Sorin for a while before turning to Gareth and, finally, Astley. “Such good hatchlings. Decisive hatchlings.

“Hatchlings that oversee life and death. Hatchlings that judge. Hatchlings that brook no delusions.

“You have talent, but are you worthy? Our master’s gifts are only meant for the fated.”

A wind picked up in the temple as the three harpies flapped their wings for the first time in centuries. Dust and broken wood flew out of the dilapidated temple and entered a wind tunnel filled with rocks and other debris.

“It looks like this boss fight is a cage match,” said Stephan, assuming Arctic Rune Bear Form and positioning himself between Daphne and the harpies. “Retreat is no longer an option.”

“No one shall leave this place unless these avatars return to dust,” confirmed the spear-wielding leader of the harpies. “Now draw your weapons and face your sins!”