Pillows made of wildebeest fur. A frame carved out of mahogany with floral patterns engraved.
An opulent chandelier shaped out of millennia-old salt prisms; an off-white hue shone from it.
The furnace exuded a light warmth in the study; the cracking of dry firewood set a leisurely atmosphere in the room.
Vera and the Baize lounged on the sofa, liquor glasses in Vera's hands and Ezra's hooves.
"The flavour is very subtle, but it carries a silent depth in it. What do you call this liquor, senior?" Vera asked as he swirled the liquor in his glass.
"You have good taste, challenger. I call this whisky," Ezra responded. "Some of the humans I freed from a Yaksha den a few centuries ago helped me make this. They said it was founded in the western plain." He spoke as he used psychokinesis to carry brittle, salted paper to his mouth.
"I never expected you to be interested in luxury goods."
"Neither did I. I think it was back when Dao Tian came to my domain. He offered me some goods he'd found across the plains. Ever since then, I've been a bit of a connoisseur myself." The brittle paper crunched in his mouth.
Vera watched the Baize crunch on the paper and offered a silent shrug.
Sword Dog sat curled up on a bed Vera had made for him, his sword set aside. He occasionally drank from a bowl filled with qi.
Since Vera had now reached the second rank, he was able to give qi flavour.
"That dog you got there is quite peculiar, though. Its level of autonomy has grown quite a bit since you've reached the second rank." Ezra took a sip of his whisky to cleanse his palate.
"I'm rather interested to see what will happen when you reach the third." Cubes of ice clinked in Ezra's glass as he gave it a few swirls.
"I agree. Even after I reached the second rank, I could barely make out how he has been making decisions. I remember giving commands earlier on, but now..."
"Don't dwell on it too much. It only seems to have good intentions for you."
"Hmm..."
Vera got off the sofa and walked to Sword Dog's bed. He sat beside Sword Dog and petted his fur softly.
"Senior, how much longer do you think it will take to fill my qi up?"
"At the current pace it will take us another six months. But if you master the collection methods I taught you, I could raise the number of anchors."
Sword Dog let out quiet whimpers as Vera petted him, completely unbothered by Vera and Ezra's conversation.
"How many more would we need to shorten the timeline significantly?"
"Assuming you master the method soon, we could optimise the process."
His tongue pressed against his cheek as he looked at the fireplace.
"My anchors will follow your progression. So really, the timeline depends on you." Ezra took a light swig, emptying his glass.
"Is that so? Well, I'll work on the method more." Vera also finished off his glass.
A moment later, a low clang sounded from the grandfather clock that stood opposite to the furnace.
Vera and Sword Dog got up and started walking towards the corridor.
"Should we get started, senior?"
***
The Baize and Sword Dog stood at the end of the corridor, facing Vera.
The room was dull and empty as always. Its cold walls were unblemished by marks or imperfections.
Sat between the golden engraving on the ground, Vera was in a meditative state.
Portions of his qi swirled in the air; their force pulled surrounding qi to its funnel.
Under the light blue shine of the lamps, Vera took deep breaths, his mind growing further attuned to the qi in the air.
"You've made good progress, exceptional for only a month. I'll start anchoring now; tell me when the pressure gets too high." Ezra remarked as he petted Sword Dog with his horns.
The room's walls began to shine red, and the air turned viscous; the air's hue shifted rapidly from red to a bright yellow, teetering into white.
Tendrils of pure white qi flowed towards Vera. The qi's path was distorted, approaching the swirling funnels of qi surrounding him.
The streaks of qi caught on to the edges of the whirlpool-like qi structure.
Glowing white tendrils coiled into tightly bound ropes.
Soon they zipped through the funnels, rapidly ensconcing Vera's body.
Specks of dust outside the barrier kept igniting; they turned to stars of bright red for but a moment.
The white hue outside the barrier turned into a chaotic space. Red stars stood speckled across the room's white hue.
Their fate was to die at birth.
Seated within this dystopian space, Vera contemplated.
What happens to qi stored within the body?
The large amounts of qi stored in his body were quite literally multiple times the size of him.
Vera's mind followed the path of qi within his body. The white threads of pure qi ran through his meridians. All veins leading to his gut.
The threads flowed deep into his gut, soon reaching a golden white point.
The tendrils of qi formed rings that collapsed into the point.
The centre of my body? But how could all of it fit there?
Vera followed the circling qi into the point.
But all he could see was a never-ending wall of golden white. The monolithic plane of golden white undulated like the waves of a great ocean, spanning over all five planes.
Imprints of the planes stood vaguely outlined in its image.
The sound of igniting wind and dust faded into white.
The qi that swirled outside his body grew in speed.
Following the funnel's contour, threads wrapped across each other. Each thread led to a tighter fit; the once rope-like flow seemed indiscernible from water.
Each individual line turned indistinguishable from the other.
Vera's temples pulsed. The vast ocean engulfed his soul.
Comprehending its extent left Vera's head throbbing.
The sight of the undulating world started fading from his mind.
Vera's eyes fluttered open. His body was cold to the touch; pools of sweat dried against his skin.
A sense of familiarity gripped him, but he couldn't tell what.
The dim light of the corridor that seemed blurred soon came into focus.
"Senior, what happened?" Vera asked; his throat ran dry. His voice was thick with thirst.
His mind was hazy. The image of the vast ocean resonated in the depths of his soul.
What is this feeling?
"You seemed to have gone into a trance, little brat." Ezra spoke as he walked up to Vera, a jug of water levitating beside him.
"How long was I out for?"
"Three days. Now shut up and drink this; you'll die of dehydration soon."
Vera quietly gulped down the water from the jug. Sword Dog sat beside him, quietly guarding him from any danger.
Ezra stared at Vera silently, his brows creased.
Dao Tian's brat wasn't over-exaggerating... If anything, he seems to have undersold him.
***
Within the boundary of the Chaotic Sea stood a lone frozen wave.
In the embrace of the frozen wave stood an ensconced body. Captured by this very wave, the body was preserved from an age long passed.
By the perfect preservation of the cold, the body stood indistinguishable from the day it was held prisoner.
The cold left its body long dormant, yet a point stood vibrant within its body.
Pitch black.
Not evil, just pitch black...
Ezra's hooves stood pressed against a wooden railing, his eyes latched onto the wave.
"Senior, are you watching the wave again?" Vera asked, seated on a chair behind him, a glass of whisky held in his hand.
"Yes..."
Vera took a sip from his glass. The rich flavour of oak and cinnamon permeated through his mouth.
"I'll be ready soon... I will bring it back for you."
"Hm... I'll be waiting," Ezra responded, his eyes still fixed on the wave.
"By the way, are you drinking again?"
"..."
"Damn brat, do you plan to empty out my collection before you leave?!"
Vera took a deep swig of the whisky and ran through the passage.
"I'll go hunt a peak-grade orc for dinner, senior." He screamed as he ran away. Sword Dog's paws pattered against the marble floors as it ran behind Vera.
Ezra turned away from the wave, his eyes latched onto Vera's back.
A quiet smile formed on his face.
The longing in his gaze thinned.
"Little brat, at least bring me a glass as well next time." A quiet laugh escaped him.
Air frozen to shards of ice fell to the Chaotic Sea's shore. The ocean's undulations stood stifled by the cold.
A week remained before the excavation.
The Chaotic Sea gazed at those that gazed at it. Its gaze was laden with finality to all those who approached.
Before the eldritch sight of the sea stood a dream, a dream of many millennia, soon to reach fruition.