Chapter 4: Chapter 4: The Big Seizure
The second water distribution went quietly. The disciples had not yet had time to recover from what they had seen. And this time no one drank all the water at once.
After a while, a couple of disciples got so sick that the elder in charge had to drag them outside for an hour to get some air.
The Untouchable smiled, remembering his first time in the Roasting room. Every hour of this airing meant an increase in the total length of their punishment by the same hour. As a result, he had been here almost four days instead of the original three. Then he got used to it, and it became easier. By now, the Untouchable could sit in the Roasting room for three days without ventilation. The fourth one could very. The fifth would be difficult. It seems like his time in here is getting longer than needed.
The initial punishment in the Roasting room was three days. When the Untouchable began to endure two without interruption, the punishment increased sharply to four days. Now it's up to five. I wonder if it was the initiative of the elders here or the higher-ups. Although he does not care, the result is the same.
After the third water distribution, the Untouchable had another seizure. And a day after that, a new one.
The last seizure was unusual. After ten minutes it was not over. The body kept convulsing. After a few more minutes the doors of the hall opened, and in the doorway appeared a beautiful woman in the uniform of the Supreme Elder. A moment later she was at the cage with the Untouchable.
- A big seizure. - The lady frowned. - I take him with me.
- As you wish. - The Elder in charge bowed.
When he straightened, neither the Elder nor the Untouchable was in the hall.
Po Lay froze in shock. There really was a Supreme Elder here. Moreover, it was a beautiful woman. How? How did that stray dog manage to snatch one!
***
The beautiful Elder stood in the garden and stared with a complicated expression at the chained body hanging in front of her. The seizure had been going on for over twenty-four hours now, which was too much even for a big seizure. Could this be the last one?
Normal daily seizures lasted about ten minutes. The big seizures lasted twenty-four hours. The interval between them was a little less than a year. In five years, the young man had had six big seizures. This was the seventh.
The lady frowned. Thanks to past experience, she had already arranged for him to be charged with energy and even given him some useful pills. These seizures sucked the body's stamina dry. After the first big seizure, the young man couldn't even walk for days.
Paradoxically, after each such seizures, his body characteristics increased slightly. Especially survivability and stamina, though the other characteristics also improved noticeably. By now, the youngster was managing to defeat single wisp cultivators through body strength alone.
- Is the youngster having a crisis?
The figure of a well-looking elder with a long white beard and dressed in golden robes stepped out of the portal.
- Dra Jae greets the Master. - The beauty bowed.
- Leave the ceremonies alone. - Waved the elder away. - To business.
- The seizure has been going on for over twenty-four hours, soon to be an extra hour. I keep his conditions with formation and pills. But I don't know if it will be enough.
The lady looked at the convulsing body with a complicated expression. She was sick to death of babysitting this seizure-prone inadequate. On the other hand, she wished that the effort had paid off after all. And most of all she wanted to know the secret of this stubborn boy. She had tried everything in five years, but had achieved nothing.
- Perhaps a stronger pill could be given? - It was as if the old man himself were unsure of the idea.
- I have thought about it. - The lady nodded. - But I'm afraid it might make things worse. I can't control the healing power so precisely in such an unstable situation. Besides, the stubborn boy never did tell me what he was turning into.
- I suppose you're right. - The old man stroked his beard. - Best not to take any chances while he's stable. We'll have to wait.
***
The young man was swimming in an ocean of pain. Everything hurt: body, mind, soul. But he had to hold on. He couldn't lose consciousness. Instinctively, the young man felt he had to be conscious. Otherwise he would be gone. And the pain went on and on and on. It came in waves, pulsing. The young man lost track of time. He forgot who he was. He just kept enduring it. He could feel his body changing on some deep level. Every cell was changing like a picture in a kaleidoscope. All the accumulated changes were coming together into one coherent picture. A new picture.
The mind was stirring as well, mixing memories and feelings, taking on a new form to fit the renewed body.
The soul was changing. The young man didn't understand how, didn't understand what. He was able to feel his soul for the first time in his life today.
All he could do now was to open himself to the pain, to go through all the stages of change with it.
The young man held on. No matter what was happening to him, he held on.
Suddenly the pain receded somewhere deep inside. A vision appeared before the young man. A tall remnant towering amidst a sea of green. A column of light fell from the sky. When the light dispersed, eight figures remained standing at the top of the remnant. Four male and four female.
From somewhere the phrase "First Ones" popped up.
Images of the First Ones emerged. They looked like people. For one detail. Each of them had a complex symbol reflected in their pupils. Each had its own unique symbol, but their identity was also felt. And also the completeness, the unity of the eight symbols.
The golden symbols slowly melted into the depths of their pupils.
Then came the story of their lives. Snippets of images, creating a coherent narrative. How the relationship between the First Ones had been forged. How they had explored the world. How they met other races. How their children were born.
The story raced forward. Children. Grandchildren. Great-grandchildren... an endless change of generations.
The races matured and grew. Wars for a place in the sun began. The loser races disappeared. The victors, having vanquished all enemies, faced internal strife. Empires crumbled. Kingdoms crumbled. Yesterday's allies betrayed each other, and brothers raised the swords on brothers.
The young man looked at this kaleidoscope of pictures like an old play he had already seen. When you already know the actors, the outfits, the plot, the scenery.
The pictures popped up from the depths of memory and plunged back in after watching.
The story flowed. And at the background of global change, the life of a small race flashed by.
Yes, they had always been few. They had a low birth rate. But each had the potential for development, not much inferior to divine beings. One might say they were only a notch below the true dragons and phoenixes.
They had no cities of their own. They had no settlements. They mixed easily with other races. And very few knew of the very existence of this race, whose best representatives reached the pinnacles of cultivation time after time.
But even this unconflicted race gradually began to die out. There were fewer and fewer purebloods. The potential of half-bloods was dwindling.
Eventually, they completely dissolved into other races. And only once a century, and later once a millennium, were descendants with pronounced generic traits born. Unfortunately, there was no one to teach them.
The young man was starting to gain consciousness.
This is the story of an ancient race. The Fa-Al race. Their ancestral memory.
What about him?
Who is he now?
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