Manaborn, p.1
Manaborn, page 1
Contents
Manaborn
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Epilogue
Also by Cassius Lange
ABOUT THE COMMUNITY
Manaborn
Cassius Lange
www.cassiuslange.com
Copyright © 2021 by Cassius Lange
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or literary publication.
Publisher’s note:
This is a work of fiction. All names, places, characters, and incidences are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual people, alive or dead, events or locations, is completely coincidental.
Trade paperback ISBN: 978-1-7338095-4-2
Amazon KINDLE:
1st Edition – 2021
Chapter One
My eyes shot open, and I gasped for air. Everything was dark but worse, a heavy, uncomfortable pressure smashed down all around me. My chest, arms, legs, and face all ached–skin, muscles…clear down to my bones. I must have received the worst beating in my life.
Horrible images flashed before me as pain and nausea flooded my senses–violence and blood, death, and darkness. I tried to breathe but even that simple act was hard. Air rushed in. My lungs inflated. But it felt more like fire filling my chest. Why was I in so much pain? And what in the hell were those images in my head? People were fighting and dying, but who were they and why?
I rolled and turned my head. The darkness broke. Space materialized around me. I was laying on wet hay, and it smelled like–I sniffed the air–human filth. A dirty, low stone ceiling hung above me, connected to rocky walls on three of the four sides. Iron bars made up the last. A scant, sliver of light pierced the darkness surrounding me, the product of a lone torch hanging some twenty steps to my left.
I pushed myself up, or at least tried to. My arms hurt, the muscles burning, but I pushed through. Once on my knees, I swallowed. My throat was dry, but it was the horrible and familiar metallic taste that stuck out. A splash of cold water would go a long way to washing the caked blood from my mouth. A rumble shook my belly then as if I needed something else to focus on.
A thought stirred in my mind. It was something, or rather the lack thereof. Mana! Panic set in as my thoughts coalesced around the idea of that precious substance.
How long had I been without it?
How long had I been locked in that…place?
“Where is the—damned mana?” I whispered, struggling as my crusted lips barely moved.
I fell into a violent coughing fit. And it was only when I’d finished that my mind was clear enough for everything else to tumble forth. Where were my people? Where were my hunting hounds? And where the hell were my women?
A wave of anguish passed through me as I realized I was alone. All alone in a dark cell somewhere…most likely underground…with no knowledge of how I got there. My anger opened deep inside. Somehow, part of me knew something bad happened, and not just to me but to everyone around me. Everyone I cared about. But…damn it! I couldn’t remember!
“Wait…those images. Those memories from earlier,” I croaked, trying to summon them back into my mind. Had they been from a previous life? Was that me, dying? Had I been reborn somehow? If so, why into such a flawed body?
I forced my legs straight and tried to stand, just as something stirred across from me. I stared into that bottomless darkness, forcing my eyes to see what had moved when a riot of images and sounds punched into my mind. I fell to the side as my head seemed to swell, fit to explode. Memories dove and leaped into place, as if poured by the bucketful into my skull.
And then I knew. I realized where I was, and the predicament that put me there. I was stuck in a holding pen, just like the ones I used to lock prisoners in.
Why the hell would I be a prisoner?
I focused on my memories…a flash of blinding light and not much else before that. I knew me, or who I had been. I was—or had been—a cultivator worth his weight in divine cores. Yes, that was what I used to be? But now…now what was I? Some filthy prisoner…barred from accessing the mana around me? Why? Why couldn’t I feel any of it?
The questions piled up, despite my inability to speak or answer them. My head drooped from their weight, and I stared down at my body. Tattered, brown robes clung to my emaciated form. The garments were caked with mud and dried blood, but the body beneath was so horribly foreign.
My arms were thin, my carefully cultivated tattoos absent. My legs were long, with knobby knees. This body certainly wasn’t my own, but…why was I in it now? I clenched my fists, the muscles knotting up in response. Weak, yes. Battered, yes. But it wasn’t a terrible shell, either. There was evidence this body used to be rather strong before it was thrown into the cell.
I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes, thinking about how to proceed. If I really had died as my memories suggested, then I’d been reborn into this body.
Had the previous owner done something bad to warrant me taking over? No, that wasn’t necessarily true. Had he crossed the wrong person, gawked at the wrong woman, or just staggered into the wrong place at the wrong time? Maybe all of them.
I needed to find out who and what I was and maybe that was a question I could answer. But first, I needed to explore just what my pitiful form could do.
I moved my fingers first, then my toes. They moved, even if they were a little stiff. I moved my head next, then my arms and legs. Everything worked, though every movement was painful. At least that meant I was alive, didn’t it? And being alive, I had to figure out if I was shut off from mana due to a weakness in my body, or if I was blocked for some other reason.
I closed my eyes and leaned back down, breathing steadily, and pressed my hands against the ground. It took some time, but eventually, I found what I was looking for: a tendril of warm energy deep beneath the surface.
Only a sliver. That told me that something terrible had happened. My call for mana should have summoned forth boundless amounts of the priceless essence, but instead, all I received was a paltry tendril. Barely enough to warm a finger.
“There you are,” I muttered as a thin streak of power entered my arms and moved further into my body. I was more than happy with anything I got my hands on, especially since I was in such a sad state.
I inhaled as the warm sensation trickled up my neck and into my head. It should have entered my various meridians, but since this wasn’t my body, it simply lingered for a moment before dissipating. My mana pool hadn’t been activated, at least not in this body, so I had nowhere to store the power until it was needed.
Luckily for me, activating the mana pool wasn’t a complicated task. I would just need some time. And fortunately, it was something I had in abundance by the looks of it. I sat cross-legged on the ground, folding my limbs into a formation to siphon the mana from the ground beneath me.
First, I would need to absorb enough mana from my surroundings to construct the pool deep within me, to build a reservoir out of thought and potential. Once done, I would draw in as much mana as I could reach and fill the pool. From there I could advance forth, realizing new strength. Further realms were at my fingertips.
It was a comforting experience, to feel the taste of power once again. And it saddened me a little, considering it was likely the first time for this husk of a man I now inhabited.
The heat from absorbing mana dried the hay beneath me, while the pain in my body dissipated slightly. It was just enough to move my limbs without excruciating pain, to sit a little more upright and breathe more freely. The flow of mana slowly picked up speed but was still a fraction of what I was used to at my peak.
I leaned forward, grasping the bars to look down the corridor. A single door led out of my cell, and it wasn’t the only one in the hall. At least four other caged rooms lined my side and five more opposite.
I turned and let my gaze crawl back up the hall in the other direction, but there was only a wall, meaning this was a relatively small dungeon. I knew from my returned memories that such spaces were reserved for drunks and petty criminals.
What had this man done to deserve this? Was he a criminal? Or was he just unfortunate, stu ck between a rock and a hard place? Or both? I smiled. It was my misfortune now. Sure, crime was a matter of dates and circumstance, so some could argue I didn’t deserve much better. Either way, it hurt my pride.
Something stirred again in the darkness of the cell across from me. It crawled up to the bars, but it was too dark for me to see clearly. It could be a man, a woman, or even an animal for all I knew. And yet, it didn’t speak or growl, at least not right away.
The door on the right rattled and opened suddenly, some mildly fresh air spilling in. Then I smelled stagnant water and piss. A guard walked in, carrying a tray in each hand. His slow, methodical steps only added to my dread.
I was weak and needed food, but when would I have another chance like this to escape? I had regained some mana, at least as much as my body could handle. Nor could I guarantee that I’d be able to open my pool up fully, even given more time before the guards rotated through next time. And most troubling, there was no way of knowing if my new body would be able to hold onto the small amount of mana I was able to collect.
I made the judgment call in a snap. If I was going to make a move, it had to be now. The guard was weak. Sure, he wasn’t as weak as I was, but his cultivation level was non-existent.
The guard stopped at the third pen and set down a tray. I glanced around for anything sharp as an idea formed in my mind. I withdrew from sight and leaned against the wall closest to the door.
This is going to hurt, I thought, bracing for the pain.
I focused on the mana and my newly formed pool came alive. Energy flowed forth and formed into a scalpel in my palm. I pulled the blade across my right forearm. I winced and bit my tongue but refused to stop. Blood leaked forth, spreading out across my palm. I forced my meager reserve of mana into the dark fluid, just as the guard knelt beside another cage, grunting as he slid the food tray under the bars. It was small and made of wood, containing a single bowl and spoon on top.
The food tray moved as soon as the guard walked away, a hand coming into view. It was thin and bony, almost skeletal. The hand grabbed for the gruel hungrily, stuffing it into a mouth that was cloaked by the shadow. It was a woman’s hand, I was sure of it, but why would a woman be in such a shitty place?
The guard finally made his way to me, shifting his weight before placing the gruel tray in front of my cell.
“Hah, you’re awake, filth,” he spat as I moved.
I could barely make out any of his features, except that he was bald. It was the best I could do while sitting on the ground, in the dark. He stepped up to the bars, moving into the limited torchlight. I immediately noticed a deep gash running down his left cheek that ended somewhere inside his beard.
His robes were in good condition, white and gray fabric. A sword hung at his side, steel that had seen much better days. He wore no insignia or crest, nothing I could make out to determine exactly where I was or who was keeping me there.
"Say something, filth?”
I remained quiet, not wanting to give myself away. I couldn’t afford for him to suspect me or my intentions. At least, not until it was too late. He couldn’t know that I understood the ways of cultivation, but in my weakened state, it would do little to aid in my defense.
“Water,” I whispered, exaggerating the tremble of my head and limbs. “Water.”
I paused for a heartbeat, considering whether I should kill him. He might have a family, children. He might be a decent person. But I shook it away, knowing for certain that I’d die if I remained locked up much longer.
“Speak up! What did you say?”
I launched myself into the bars and grabbed his hand.
“Water!” I growled.
The guard ripped his hand away.
“Do not touch me, you scum!” he snarled, reaching and fumbling for a whip at his belt. Something made him pause and he looked down at his hand, frowning. “You still got blood in you? Now that’s a surprise.”
“Water!” I said a bit louder and clearer.
“You’re not getting any, you bastard! Not after that. You don’t touch a guard and…”
He moved to draw the whip again but stopped as his hand started shaking. He looked down, grabbed the whip with both hands, and promptly dropped it. Grunting, spluttering, and cursing, the guard fell onto his back.
“What did—what—Ahh! My hand! What did you do?”
I grinned as the thin, glowing line of mana formed in the air, connecting his hand and mine. It was almost invisible to the naked eye, but I could see and feel its pull. Whatever power there was inside of him, however faint, now flowed toward me.
If I had been stronger, I would have created tendrils to bore clear through his skin, but that kind of manifestation was beyond me. At least in my current state.
“Thank you for—becoming my food,” I whispered, my voice already gaining strength.
The thirst and hunger started to abate as his mana and life power flowed into me. I’d just formed the connection and already I could barely feel any strength left inside him, despite his obvious size and strength. He obviously had no cultivator’s expertise, but that didn’t matter. Everyone had at least a small amount of the wonderful power stored inside their organs, an afterglow. And besides, when the organs were turned into mush by this technique, they could give me a nice push.
The guard tried to prop himself up but fell back onto his side. His mouth opened wide, but there was no scream, no plea for help. Without any protection against mana curses, he was doomed. At this point, it wouldn’t have mattered. Even if someone were to find him, he was too far gone. The guard lay there, half-conscious, his limbs locked, and his eyes rolled back in his head. He was dead, his body just hadn’t realized it yet.
Fool.
I sat fully upright and glanced at the gruel. Not even my hounds would have eaten that shit. Hounds. My hounds. The thought jarred my memory again.
Where were they? Had the person responsible for killing me killed them too? Or perhaps taken them as a prize? I felt my rage build, yet I had no way to release it, not yet at least.
“Figure out where you are first and what in the hell happened to—” I whispered, the sound of my stronger voice jarring something loose in my mind.
I was back in my sky palace again, as an army of thousands of cultivators and martial artists swarmed its defenses. The Emperor himself led the attack, supported by his seven lackey lords. Every one of the lords had attacked one of my towers, sapping away at my powers while I battled the Emperor. Unable to defend against their combined powers and desperately outmanned, I finally fell after two days of fighting.
Then I felt my old body die once again and knew why I’d managed to last so long. It was the two towers I’d hidden within the sky palace. They must have fallen after my death, but how? What had happened to any of the towers?
I wrenched on the bars, my feeble arms shaking with the effort. I released a trickle of mana, turning the closest bar soft under my hand. I ripped it free and broke the bar at the bottom, then did the same to the one next to it. Two would be more than enough for this withered body to pass through.
I grabbed the remaining bars and pulled myself up, stopping to dust the tattered rags clinging to my body. It was a stupid and vain attempt to get clean. I was so dirty only a dip in a river could be of any real use, but I was far from any river.
“Harlan! Where . . . the hell are you . . . going without me?” a weak female voice asked from the cell across from me.
A dirty face appeared from behind the bars, staring with hollow, almost lifeless eyes. Skin hung over her bony cheeks and chin.
“Harlan?” Was that the name of the man’s body I now inhabited? The woman obviously knew me and that meant she could be of use.
“I’m leaving,” I replied. “Why? Do you want to come?”
I couldn’t hide the curiosity in my voice, and she twitched. I think the offer surprised her. She knew this body, or rather the man that owned it before me. He was likely the reason why she was stuck in the place. It was just a gut feeling, but the way she stared at me was a giveaway.
“You bastard! I got stuck here because...of you! And now you want to...go without me?”
I grinned. How interesting.
“You probably can’t walk, much less fight with how frail you’ve become,” I said as I studied my own body. It wasn’t much better than hers if I was to be honest.
