Chapter 122 - Wren Kain IV (1/2)

In either of my lives, I’d never seen a beast like this before. The beast that had grabbed me seemed to be made entirely out of polished stone. Instead of eyes, two hollowed-out cavities radiating a pale glow that studied me with intelligence. With protruding mandibles that reminded me of an ape’s, the beast let out a deep rumble, trembling the very organs inside my body.

By how far my feet were dangling off the ground, it was easily over five meters tall. However, despite the situation I was in, under this terrifying presence emitted by my captor, I couldn’t help but stare in awe at what I beheld.

There was no flaw in the beast’s stone hide. It was as if the very earth had painstakingly polished this monster for millions of years, etching away any of the flaws it once could’ve had. The glossy stone that made up the gigantic ape’s body and face glittered like the ocean against the afternoon sun, enveloping it in an almost holy aura despite its grotesque form.

Suddenly, cracks began surfacing on the beast’s body, splintering off into endless branches as the same pale light of its eyes surfaced from the thin fissures.

The giant hand that wrapped around me loosened before crumbling into fine sand, just like the rest of the beast’s body. I fell to my feet as I watched the mound of sand, formerly the stone beast, slowly begin spreading onto the ground.

From the remains of the articulately conjured golem stood a thin, frail-looking man dressed in a shabby white coat. “From your expression, I’m guessing that didn’t scare you—only surprised you at best,” he muttered, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“Arthur, I’d like you to meet Wren. He’s going to be your instructor for quite a while, so get acquainted.” Windsom had an amused sparkle in his eyes as he said this.

Out of all the asuras I had crossed paths with, Wren was by far the most unremarkable. With the body frame of a malnourished shut-in underneath his oversized coat, he stared at me intently, heavily hunched. The deep bags drooping beneath his half-closed, tired eyes were almost as dark as the greasy black hair that fell over his face like wet seaweed, obviously left unwashed for days. That, coupled with the uneven stubble that spread across his chin and cheeks made for a man who would be looked down on by even the dirtiest of vagrants.

Still, I knew better than to judge a man, much less an asura, by his outward appearance. Hell, without a decent shower or haircut in months, I had no right to say anything.

Dipping my head, I formally introduced myself to my new instructor. “Nice to meet you, my name is Arthur Leywin. I’ll be in your care.”

“Windsom,” the asura shifted his gaze, ignoring me. “What are the ramifications that the human society places on one who is tardy?”

“Excuse me? Ramifications?” I asked.

“A severed finger or toe, perhaps? No, that seems a bit severe. Imprisonment or social isolation seems more appropriate,” the hunched asura muttered to himself as he rubbed his stubbled chin.

“What are you talking about? There aren’t any ramifications or consequences for being a bit late!” I sputtered incredulously.

“What?” The asura looked genuinely surprised. “None at all? No punitive actions are taken whatsoever for such behavior?”

“It is looked down upon, but no, there are no formal charges one faces for being late,” Windsom intervened.

\”How odd. For races that have such a minuscule lifespan, I would've imagined you guys placed more importance on time more than anything else. Such a backward race, you humans,\” he murmured.

Despite his rude words, there was a truth to them. I couldn't help but stifle a laugh at the apparent irony of us \”lesser races.\”

As the thin, shabby-looking asura continued to take mental notes, I couldn’t help but shoot a questioning glance at Windsom.

“Regardless of my ignorance on the social intricacies of human conduct, we should move on to why you’re here. As well as why I’ve come to this god-forsaken crater at the tip of a mountain.” Waving his hand as if to discard his needless thoughts, the asura approached me.

“Arthur, was it?” my new instructor asked.

“Mhmm.”

“I want you to strip.” The asura’s gaze was unrelenting as he tapped his foot with impatience.

“Of course you do,” I muttered quietly under my breath.

“What was that?” He snapped.

“Not a single thing.” Letting out a sigh, I stripped down to my underwear. “Is this good enough, or would you like to study my family jewels as well?”

“The supposed savior of the lesser beings has quite the mouth,” Wren replied sardonically. He began circling me, poking me with his finger now and then. When the asura saw the white feather that Sylvia had left me wrapped around my arm, he removed it.

“Hey!” I exclaimed.

“Dragon’s feather. Truly a crafting material too rare to be wasting as an arm warmer, don’t you think?” the frail asura marveled.

“Crafting material?” I echoed, curious.

“The feathers on our wings are a particular type of scale that have many unique properties. From the day we are born, we never shed the feathers that make up our wings, so for a dragon to deliberately give someone his or her feathers signifies trust and affection,” Windsom answered.

Wren handed the long feather back to me. “I never knew,” I replied, looking at the long, white feather that felt silky between my fingers.

“How come Myre didn’t tell me about this?” I turned to Windsom.

“She must’ve had her reasons,” the asura answered in a dismissive tone.

Wren resumed his inspection, occasionally placing a finger or two over the major arteries and counting to himself.

“Spread your arms out,” Wren suddenly ordered. I did as told, hoping that abiding his commands would hasten the process.

I entertained myself with the amusing and slightly embarrassing fact that I was in the middle of a barren crater with two asuras watching me, almost completely naked.

The hunched asura continued to study me, muttering random numbers to himself. The afternoon sun cooked my skin as I continued to be examined like some laboratory mouse until Wren finally spoke again.

“We’ll start by firing a basic spell from all of the elements you can conjure. Use only your right hand to release the spell.” The asura placed his palm on my solar plexus and grabbed my right wrist. “Begin!”

I fired off a series of simple spells in no particular order: fire, water, ice, lightning, wind, then earth.

After I had finished, Wren began muttering to himself once again.

We continued testing with increasingly complex spells. Wren instructed the very form he wanted me to conjure the spell into, down to the very diameter of the stone pillar I was to erect from the ground.

Windsom quietly watched throughout the whole process, never uttering a single word unless asked. Whatever uncomfortableness or embarrassment I had during the beginning of this in-depth analysis was gone by the time the sun fell.

“Basic measurements and calculations are accounted for,” Wren announced, letting out a groan as he stretched his back and neck. “Moving on to effective use of mana arts in battle.”