Rivers of the Night - Chapter 78

Chapter 78: Manaborn

One would never guess that the reason for tonight’s chaos would be a young man calmly looking out of the window of his dorm right this moment.

Theron almost felt it was a shame that he would waste a night as good as this one. It felt like there was so much more he could do… but now wasn’t the time.

Not yet.

This region was filled with thick forestry, so rain was quite common. They were already slowly moving into the warmer months, so rain like this would only become more so.

Theron wasn’t a fool. How could he choose a location where he would be at a disadvantage when the entire Empire had been up for his selection just months ago?

He had been unlucky these last couple of weeks as many of the important things he wanted to do had fallen on dry nights. But as rain season was coming into full force…

It was his time.

‘Right about now, the Ironhart’s should have made their decision to break off with the Thistles. A fragile relationship like that wouldn’t have lasted long anyway. Now, the Thistles will be in a bind. Whether they want to or not…

‘They will have no choice but to use me.’

Theron’s blue irises flickered. ‘I wonder what name I should use for this one. If my Daggers of the Night persona is River, then for the Thistles we’ll be… Rain.’

It sounded foolish. To use such a similar moniker, and the same M.O. felt like he was begging to be caught.

But Theron had his own plans.

Sadie already knew who he was. This situation wasn’t as black and white as it seemed. And right now, his top priority wasn’t to survive, it wasn’t to set himself up for the future…

It was to retrieve his father’s short sword.

**

Theron walked into Daggers of the Night with a calm gait. With his head cloaked, none recognized him, but such was the case for most.

Those like Theron who used a different mask every time they came to Daggers of the Night weren’t rare, and they were no less secluded than he was.

But in the end, before the old man at the desk, all of their concealment was worthless.

This time, the old man looked up before Theron set anything down on the table. Even after Theron did set it down, he seemed to have eyes for the chilling pair of blue orbs shrouded in the shadows of his cloak.

After a long while, the old man stood to his feet.

“Come with me.”

There was a flicker in Theron’s eyes. He didn’t even notice when the head on the table vanished. By the time he reacted, he could barely catch sight of the old man’s back disappearing around a corner.

Theron dashed after him.

…

Theron took deep breaths. He knew the old man had done it on purpose, but it was still rare for him to be so out of breath when he wasn’t training.

Though he guessed that he could count this as a small session.

Somehow, they had left the underground space and had entered a small clearing in the forest. But even if Theron tried, he really couldn’t recall how they had gotten here. It was like his mind had been bent and twisted out of proportion.

Up ahead, the old man sat at a plain, circular stone table, sipping at some tea.

“Took you long enough.”

Theron blinked in confusion. He could have sworn that he was just following the old man’s back just now, wasn’t he? How exactly had he ended up “taking long.”

The realization hit Theron.

Had he been following a projection this whole time?

“You’re too smart for your own good, but I doubt you have the full story—.”

“… A movement technique…”

The old man paused his sip, the hot liquid almost going down the wrong pipe. Luckily, he managed to maintain his composure enough to not hack and cough, but it took all the willpower he had.

Another stroke of luck was that Theron seemed to be absentminded, trying to figure out what he had just seen.

Just what sort of movement technique left such long afterimages… such real, tangible, almost clone-like existences.

And yet Theron, with all his Mana control, couldn’t even begin to tell the difference.

‘They’re not real clones, though… I’m sure of that…’

“That technique is called [Echo Plus]. There’s no need for you to think so much about it. You can only use it if you gain an Echo from a certain rare Sound Mancy Beast. I myself was very lucky to gain it back then.”

The words made Theron snap out of it, his eyes looking toward the old man with just a fraction of heat to their usual chilliness.

“It was Manaborn, wasn’t it?”

The old man’s pupils trembled.

Feral beasts. Unranked, often nameless, known colloquially by most. And yet, they were normally stronger than cultivators of the same level.

Imbued beast…

Strong.

Even Theron had to start with one at a watershed tier beneath him to get acclimated. And then he struggled with a pair afterward that were right at his cultivation level.

Against normal people though, even a Fourth Resonance Imbued Beast could crush a Sixth Resonance cultivator.

And then, a step above even Imbued Beasts… were Manaborn Beasts.

Manaborn were to Imbued Beasts what Imbued Beasts were to humans. The gap with every grade up in Mancer Beast only grew more feverish, more shocking.

“Too smart, indeed…”

Theron felt a chilly sort of killing intent lock onto him, causing him to frown.

“You didn’t come here to show off and then just kill me because, right?” Theron asked.

“You don’t know the value of a Manaborn Echo.”

Theron shrugged. “Clearly you don’t either, otherwise you wouldn’t bring it out so casually.”

The old man was tongue tied and his killing intent receded like a tide.

“Fine, fine.” He tossed a spatial ring over. “Your rewards are in there. As for the ring, keep it.”

Theron’s eyes sparkled, but inwardly he was as calm as an ancient iceberg.

A spatial device? He had many. He just couldn’t use any of them, and he would likely have to add this one to that list too.

“I will not teach you any of my techniques as you do not have my Echo nor do you follow my Mancy Path. But I will teach you the methods of an assassin as promised. First, show me your Veinsong.”