Pandora Unchained - a Cultivation Progression Fantasy

Streets blurred past Sorin as their group travelled increasingly far away from their destination. The streets were empty as always, though eventually, they reached a point where crowds became more plentiful, and the streets became busy as they had originally been.

Only ten peaceful minutes passed before their enemies closed in on their location. A terrifying pressure came weighing down on them from above. An orb of poison descended as the pressure caused mortals and cultivators alike to scatter away from the point of impact.

Fortunately, Elder Calvin was with them; the elder caught the orb of poison in his hand and smothered it like one would a glowing ember. "Have you no shame?" said the elder, casting a spell with a single hand and shooting a poison orb back towards its point of origin. Something intangible melted away to reveal a group of black-cloaked cultivators that were far more frightening than all those they'd encountered previously.

"We'll hold off Elder Calvin while you take care of the primary target," said one of the cloaked cultivators in a melodious voice. "Enhanced Rain of Tears." She pointed upwards and manifested a spell circle measuring hundreds of meters in diameter. Elder Calvin immediately flew up to disperse the spell circle, but the mage's companion summoned twelve glass-like fragments that cut off Elder Calvin and put him on the defensive.

"The target's fast," warned Haley. "At least fifty percent sanctified."

"I'm not blind," snapped Natasha. "Our only hope is lasting long enough for Elder Calvin to break through."

Sorin barely had a chance to blink before Haley, the one positioned closest to Sorin, intercepted a glowing hot sword before it could pierce him through the chest. The impact sent her flying, and the cultivator, keen on eliminating Sorin as quickly as possible, ignored her in favor of continuing his assault.

Sorin tried to retreat, but the opponent was too quick. He'd just turned to receive the mysterious cultivator, only for the cultivator to appear at his back.

Fortunately, Natasha appeared to intercept him. Like Haley, the impact knocked her back. Her efforts bought Sorin just enough time to bring up his gloved hands to intercept the white-hot sword, though to his horror, the sword pierced through his gloved hands and stabbed where his mana sea normally would have been.

The lack of response on Sorin's part confused the attacker momentarily, but it wasn't long before he continued his assault. He pulled his sword back, cleanly severing Sorin's fingers, then made to attack his neck.

"Reee!" Lorimer attacked the man's arm before he could lop off Sorin's head, forcing him to fling the rat into a concrete wall before proceeding. But by then, Gareth was already fired off his first arrow, stunning the swordsman. Stephan, having finally made it beside Sorin, adopted his Arctic Rune Bear form and attacked the cultivator with chilling cold, slowly him just long enough for Sorin to retreat beside Elder Nigel.

"A sword cultivator," said the hooded attacker. "How entertaining. You lot normally hold an advantage in single combat, but this doesn't hold true against light-based cultivators." He flicked his sword, forcing Elder Nigel to defend, but a second later, a hole opened on the elder's chest. They continued exchanging attacks until finally, the white-hot sword seemed to miss. Elder Nigel staggered, and his head fell clean off his body a full second later.

Blood sprayed across the fingerless Sorin. Fear gripped his heart. He felt the urge to reach for the corruption in his body, but questioned whether it would be enough in the face of such a gap in power.

The attacker once again moved in for the kill, and Sorin closed his eyes and accepted his fate. "Watch it; you're going to hurt someone swinging that thing around like that," said a familiar voice just as the sword was coming down.

"It's you! The underwear thief!" shouted the cultivator, pulling his sword out of Sorin's shoulder and pointing it to the speaker. "How dare a puny Bone-Forging cultivator like you appear here after what you did?" He swung his sword at the Lawrence, who was covered in a midnight-colored cloak, but only managed to sever a lock of hair as Lawrence merged with the shadows and pulled back ten steps.

"If you keep up like that, don't be surprised if your niece's underwear finds its way into a secret admirer's hands," taunted Lawrence, avoiding yet another strike. "Is that blood coming out of your nose? You should really get your health checked. Wait, didn't I find a medical report in your manor? Are you the one with erectile dysfunction? Aya, don't worry—I'll visit your wife when you're out for business, so she doesn't get too lonely.

"Enough!" snapped the cultivator. A holy aura billowed out from him and struck Lawrence backward and into a building. The cultivator finally seemed to come back to his senses and remember that there was an entire realm of difference between him and his opponent. "Luckily for you, you're not my main target. You'll get to live a few seconds more."

He appeared in front of Sorin once again, and this time, everyone was too heavily wounded to interfere. "Your journey ends here, little God Seed," said the attacker, pulling his sword back. "If you want to blame someone, blame your worthless clan for stirring up so much trouble."

The sword came down, but to Sorin's surprise, it wasn't cold metal that he felt, but hot blood instead. Elder Calvin appeared in front of him, a sword lodged deep into his shoulder and running halfway through his chest.

"Im… possible…" gasped the attacker. "How can you have killed them already? It would take someone on the level of a Presiding Elder to accomplish this…"

"One… doesn't… need to be a Presiding Elder to have the strength and authority of a Presiding Elder," gasped Elder Calvin. "Now die, wretched dog of the White Tower Conglomerate." His opponent melted into a puddle just like those he'd slain earlier had. Just like before, he grabbed the cultivator's pouch and tossed the bones to Sorin.

"Resources… are so hard to come by for us apothecaries," said Elder Calvin between heavy breaths. "What's worse, our research burns through gold like no one's business. You must be frugal, Sorin. You must pinch every penny. Only then will you be able to walk far on your path and become an unrivalled master of ten thousand poisons."

Sorin caught the Elder's wounded body as he fell and quickly analyzed his condition. It wasn't good, and the sword lodged inside his body wasn't making things any better. Knowing that he'd be dead if left in his current position, Sorin pulled out the sword. Blood gushed out of the elder, but Sorin cauterized the wound before pulling out a vial and dumping its contents onto his vital organs.

"You shouldn't waste such precious treasure on me," mumbled Elder Calvin. "Didn't you just hear me rant about pinching pennies?"

"Elder Nigel is dead," whispered Sorin. "And you aren't far off. Tell me, Elder Calvin—was it worth it?"

Elder Calvin coughed up a mouthful of blood. "This is what it means to be part of a clan, Sorin. You give and you take. Sacrifice is often required for the good of the whole. It's how I've always lived my life, and to date, I have no regrets." He hacked up several mouthfuls of blood before continuing. "I've reached my limit. Just leave me here, Sorin. Your odds of escaping will increase dramatically." His eyes rolled back as the loss of blood finally took its toll.

Natasha limped over to Nigel's headless body and placed it in her storage ring. "We need to leave," she said to Sorin.

"Do you have any more bright observations?" said Haley, groaning as she lifted a large piece of concrete from her broken leg. "Gareth, I'm afraid we're not going to be much use going forward. Tussling with a Middle Flesh-Sanctification cultivator was our limit."

"We're not far now," said Gareth. "Sorin, let go of Elder Calvin."

"I'm not leaving him," said Sorin.

"I didn't say we should leave him," said Gareth, rolling his eyes. "But you don't have any fingers and holding him is difficult. Pass him to Stephan. He's still got some fight in him."

"A few broken ribs won't stop me," confirmed Stephan as he limped over and carefully took the Elder from Sorin's fingerless hands.

"This way," said Gareth, leading them down the main street, where a throng of people could be seen watching from an invisible boundary. The crowd parted to reveal a carriage, which pulled up just in front of their group and opened its doors wide. "Everyone hop in."

Sorin and company entered a surprisingly large space. Inside it, they saw Daphne muttering words into a jade slip and a driver on an elevated seat directing the carriage's demonic horses. The carriage took off once they cleared the door, and their surroundings blurred.

"Any luck?" the driver asked Daphne.

"None," said Daphne. "Maybe Sorin will have a better idea. Sorin, what are the spatial coordinates to your manor's private garage?"

"Our what?" asked Sorin.

"Dead gods, you really don't know anything, do you?" said Daphne. "At least tell me you've got a direct line to your spatial logistics officer. I believe that it's Elder Adrian in Delphi?"

"I might be able to reach him," said Sorin, willing his communication jade out of his Hero Medal. Sorin pressed his bloody palm against the communication jade and issued a two-way communication request to Elder Adrian, who was naturally on his contact list.

A small projection appeared above the jade ten seconds later. "Sorin, is that you?"

"It's me," confirmed Sorin. "Daphne Phillips's carriage driver is asking for our private garage's spatial coordinates. Can you get them to us?"

Elder Adrian muttered something about procedures and the right way to do things. "Is this the only way for you to get back?"

"Elder Calvin is gravely wounded and on the verge of death. Elder Nigel is dead, and Elder Natasha and Haley York are badly wounded. You tell me."

The carriage rocked suddenly, and the carriage driver turned around. "We're under enemy fire, and this thing is made for luxury and stealth, not defending against Flesh-Sanctification cultivators."

"Fine," said Elder Adrian. "The coordinates are 36, 47, 89, 15, and 124. Closing communications in case of interception. Preparing to receive unapproved spatial transport." His projection winked out.

"Better buckle up," said the carriage driver. "Also, how much do you trust this elder of yours?"

Sorin didn't trust him at all, but Elder Calvin's condition was dire. "I trust him with my life," lied Sorin.

The carriage driver snorted. "You're terrible at lying. Let's hope we don't get cast into the void or end up marooned on an unstable planar fragment. Initiating spatial transference protocol. Anchoring coordinates. The anchor… had taken. Initiating spatial jump." The horses, which Sorin could barely make out through the small opening in the carriage, began glowing with a silver light. A tunnel formed around the horses formed a tunnel that the horses as they seemed to pierce through the air and arrive inside an empty chamber enclosed on all six sides by rune-covered stone.

For a moment, Sorin was worried that they'd stumbled into another trap. Fortunately, his fears were for naught. Elder Adrian and Elder Marik rushed through an opening in the wall alongside a team of physicians, three of which had three-star badges affixed to their robes.

"The patient is in critical condition," said Physician Avery, the oldest and most competent physician the family had in Delphi excluding Elder Nolan. "Requesting permission to bypass safety inspection protocols and to escort Elder Calvin to Surgery Room Two."

"Permission granted," said Elder Marik, and Physician Avery and two assistants rushed off with Elder Calvin on a stretcher.

"Your fingers," said Physician Wendy, the three-star physician assigned to Sorin. "Did you retrieve them?"

"Unfortunately, no," said Sorin, shaking his head.

To his surprise, Lorimer jumped onto Sorin's lap and began hacking until he retched out a familiar object—one of Sorin's fingers. This finger was followed by several more fingers until, finally, all of Sorin's fingers were accounted for.

"Good job, Mr. Rat," said the physician. "Way to look out for your contractee when he isn't thinking straight. Since there won't be any issues reattaching these limbs, I believe we'll sort you towards the back of the line. Those two ladies are taken care of, but that large and handsome friend of yours looks to be close to passing out from internal bleeding."

"Don't worry about me," said Stephan, waving her away. "I'm… I'm fine. Not at all dizzy."

Lawrence caught him as he fell to the ground. "I'm sure he's fine. Just a little tired, that's all. Wait, did he somehow cough up a piece of his own lung?"