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A wrinkled hand snatched up the herb from the table and the thoughtless action crushed the delicate leaves into a useless mess. However, the aged and bald man cared not for their state as he hurriedly threw the damaged herbs into the stone mortal before smashing the pestle down with great force. The thoughtless action caused the wooden table to tremble under the assault and the bubbling blue concoction was spilt out into red hot flame which loudly sizzled in protest.
Wide eyes unblinkingly monitored the spillage while twitching hands erratically crushed the herb in an even paste. “No. No! NO!” The loud bark echoed within the rather empty room which had once been stacked with Remnants, concoctions and ingredients abound. The vacant shelves witnessed the outburst as the bubbling fizzled out and the bright blue liquid gradually changed into a grey mess. “Why! Why did it fail?! [Focus]!”
| [Focus] |
| Tier 1 effect: Recall all the information studied under the effect of the Skill. |
Black Basil. Protects against diseases like- Boosts health. Remnant accumulates in- Crush in even paste to use. Used to heal winter maladies and- Common. Old memories resurfaced as the Skill did its work. However, the recalled information was incomplete; a testament of how low he had fallen. He was just a Level 1 [Shishya].
It wouldn’t be long now.
The man covered in filthy white robes snatched up the clay vessel from the hot flame and threw it towards the drain by the wall. However, his aim was erratic and the clay shattered with a loud sound, staining the mud wall in an unpleasant colour of dull grey as the liquid slowly dripped down.
The angry man panted and his red eyes fidgeted around the room to look for the more ingredients, only to find blank shelves and empty jars. Veins pulsed through his thin skin as his red eyes fell on the fresh grey stains adorning the wall. Failure. Like her. Failure.
The wrinkled skin on his hands tautened as he clenched his fist. His wide nose puffed up and his aged wide eyes fidgeted. He wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t wrong! All he had wanted was for her to do good! How was that wrong? He had scolded her when she had been a disappointment and he had praised her when she had achieved to his satisfaction.
Satisfaction. Santosh. It was his name. Santosh Sanchay. Accumulated satisfaction. He hated it now. It has taken his daughter from him. It had taken his Levels from him. And it would take his Class from him. He felt it in his spirit.
It wouldn’t be long now.
However, he couldn’t accept it. How could he? All his youth had been whittled away in mastering his craft. He had once been equivalent to a Level 20 [Concoctor]. Yet it all had been chipped away, leaving him a mere Level 1 [Shishya] now. He couldn’t bear it. How could he accept that all his sacrifices had been for nothing? How could he accept that his life had been for nothing? He couldn’t.
His bloodshot eyes found the clay pot that had once contained the Remnant of his daughter, a single strand of her dark hair. But that too had been taken from him, confiscated for his own good! Ha! He spat out a glob of spit at the wall. The gods had interfered to prevent him from refining the Remnant. He spat again.
At least that way her death would have served a purpose. With her Remnant rotting away, her death had no meaning. It was hollow. He couldn’t accept it! How could the death of someone he loved be meaningless? He refused to let her life be meaningless. But even that had been denied to him.
Filthy nails dug into his skin within his clenched fists as his breathing became laboured. He knew what they said about him. But they were wrong! He hadn’t killed his daughter. He hadn’t! No matter what his wife screamed at him, he hadn’t killed her. No matter the hidden glances sent his way, he hadn’t killed his daughter. He hadn’t. He hadn’t!! She had killed herself!
He had merely wanted the best for her. He still wanted the best for her. He wanted his daughter’s life to have meaning. Yet, they called him crazy when he tried. They were horrified that he wanted to refine her Remnant. He was her parent. Her father! He knew what was best for her. Both in life and death! Not them!
His trembling hands found another clay pot and the man placed it on the burning wood but his mind was not on the task. His bloodshot eyes were wide and his speech fast and erratic as he talked to himself, “I need to Level up. Faster! I need to reach Tier 2. And get the next Skill! Then I would read her Remnant. I would know what to use it best for! I will give her death meaning. I would not let her life go to waste! I won’t! I won’t! I won’t!!”
It wouldn’t be long now.
But he had to stop it. He had to be faster. He had to Level his Class before he lost it. That was the only way. Yes, he had to just be faster. It would have helped if he had his second Skill but it had been revoked when his Level fell below 10. Yet he wouldn’t give up. For his daughter, he couldn’t give up. He had to succeed!
Ting.
| [Your Level has been decreased. 1 Attribute point deducted from the most recently manipulated Attribute.] |
Ting.
| [Class [Shishya] lost.] |
Ting.
| [Skill [Focus] lost.] |
Ting.
| [No Class detected. Access to [Status] is revoked.] |
-X-
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