Power (Buryoku Book 1), page 1
POWER
BURYOKU
BOOK ONE
AARON OSTER
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’d like to give a special thanks to all the wonderful people who made this book possible. Without you, this book would not be nearly as amazing.
My editor, who shall continue to remain anonymous.
My web designer, who works tirelessly to keep it all running.
The absolute king of cover art, Richard Sashigane.
My Beta readers: DJ, Cameron, Joe, Jaxon, Darren and Colton. You guys are the bomb!
Lastly, to my fans. Without you, none of this would be possible.
For my baby sister. Keep dreaming big.
1
“Out of the way, you useless piece of trash!”
Roy jumped aside as Shah Koya ran past, followed closely by a group of other Yellow-Belts. He stumbled, nearly falling to the ground as his lame leg was jostled by one of the passing group. Luckily, he’d been holding a broom and was able to brace himself against it, though he imagined the bristles would now have to be replaced.
He could hear their snickering laughter floating back on the wind as they dashed through the village gates, heading on their latest excursion into the clan’s Dungeon. Outwardly, he kept his features neutral, pushing off the broom and allowing the weight to settle back on his braced right leg. Inwardly, however, he seethed at the injustice.
Roy had only been a child when he’d been adopted into the Shah clan. He’d been too young to remember how he’d lost his parents, or where they’d even come from, but the Shah clan made sure to remind him every day of his position within their ranks. He’d been treated this way for as long as he could remember. Not for the crime of being a cripple. No, his crime was a far greater one - he had no affinity for the Martial Arts.
In a world where everyone could cultivate the Essence of their chosen Advancement Path, Roy was completely inept. Not only could he not sense the Essence of the world around him, but he didn’t even have a core in which to store it. He was a freak. Everyone developed a core by the time they were five or six. He had never had such luck.
Had he developed a core, he’d never have been crippled in the first place. And even if the horrific injury that the wild boar had inflicted would have crippled him, the clan would have used their considerable resources to heal him. They would not waste their precious time and money on a freak, so he’d been left to recover on his own.
The sound of laughter reached his ears, breaking him from his thoughts, and he turned his head to see a group of children splashing in a nearby pond. Instead of cheering him up, his mood only darkened when his eyes landed on the pristine White-Belts tied around the children’s waists.
The Belts were a sign that they’d developed a core and had enough control to form them, forging them from the Essence within. The Belt was a sign of a true Martial Artist and showed to all the Level of advancement in one’s core. Looking down to his waist where a piece of knotted rope held his robe in place, Roy felt his mood sour even further.
He was now twenty years old. At his age, he should already have long since reached Yellow. If he was particularly talented, he might even have reached his 2nd or 3rd Dan within the Yellow stage. However, the world had seen fit to curse him. Though he tried desperately to feel the Essence of the world every day without a core, he was only making weird faces at the walls of his small house.
Aside from the obvious increase in strength, speed, and power, advancing also had more far-reaching advantages, such as an increased lifespan, and better health and complexion. Simply by advancing from White to Yellow, a Martial Artist could expect their lifespan to increase by ten years. From Yellow to Orange another twenty, and at Green, one could expect to live to well over two hundred, given the right circumstances.
He caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye and saw Shah Lynn approaching. The bright Orange-Belt, featuring two slashes of green at the end, was tied tightly around her waist. This meant that she was a 2nd Dan Orange and one of the most powerful Martial Artists in the clan. It also meant that she had the power to bully anyone she wanted, and there was no better punching bag than the village cripple.
“I’ve noticed you shirking your duty, Herald Leroy.”
Roy winced at the use of his full name. It marked him as even more of an outsider than he already was. The name sounded foreign and strange. He looked enough like an outsider as it was. With his light brown hair and green eyes, he stood out like a spot of white in a sea of black. He also had fairer skin, pale in comparison to the darker tan of the Shah. The most notable difference was in his build.
He was bulky and wide, as opposed to the more slim and refined build of the Shah. They could have made him feel welcome by at least allowing him to carry their name, but they didn’t want the other clans to associate him with them. He would make them look weak, and in Buryoku, weakness was punishable by death.
Aside from those differences, he was average height, a couple of inches short of six feet. His face was broad with a strong jaw and slightly crooked nose. He owed that particular feature to Shah Koya. His posture was always bad though, as his deformity forced him to lean heavily on his left leg, giving him a crooked appearance and always making him seem shorter than he actually was.
“Forgive me for my failure, Shah Lynn,” Roy said, bowing at the waist as best he could.
It rankled him to have to bow and scrape to these people, but if he didn’t, the consequences could be severe. She could kill him right here and now, and no one would say a thing. She might even be secretly rewarded for ridding the clan of such a disgrace. The only thing keeping a clan member from doing so thus far was their image. It would be dishonorable to kill someone like him, so they kept him around. For now, at least.
The woman tossed her long mane of black hair, placing her hands on her hips to emphasize her advancement rank- not that she needed to do so. The color was bright enough that everyone could clearly see it, and in a clan of Water cultivators who wore primarily blue, it stood out even more.
“I cannot forgive this affront. We took you in when no one else would, Herald Leroy. We even allowed you to stay when your deformity was discovered. You should be on your knees, thanking us for our generosity. Instead, you shirk your duty and dishonor our clan.”
Roy knew what was coming next, but he kept his head bowed and didn’t allow the rage he felt boiling inside to bubble to the surface.
“Three extra hours work in the kitchens for shirking your duty!” the woman snapped, “and we will be docking your pay for ruining that broom.”
Roy’s head snapped up at that proclamation. They’d always seen fit to saddle him with more menial labor at every opportunity, but docking his meager pay was going too far.
“You can’t do that!” he exclaimed before he could catch himself.
A ringing slap caught him across the face, sending him sprawling. His vision fuzzed from the force of the blow, and he could taste blood. He clutched at his cheek, staring up at the woman who still had an impassive expression on her face. Despite the pain he felt, Roy knew that she’d held back. Had she wanted to, she could have knocked his head clean off his shoulders with that blow.
“Disrespecting someone of my station will not be tolerated from a cripple and a freak. Two week’s pay will be docked from your salary, Herald Leroy. Now get back to work before I make it three.”
With that, she turned her back to him, sauntering away. Gritting his teeth in anger, Roy slowly got back to his feet. It wasn’t an easy task, seeing as his right leg was in a stiff brace and he was once again forced to use the broom to help him. This time he made sure to turn the broom upside down, using the handle to prop himself up, instead of the delicate bristles.
Feeling around gingerly with his tongue, Roy made sure that none of his teeth had been knocked loose. They hadn’t, but he could already feel a bruise spreading from the point of impact and knew he would have to bear that shame for as long as the bruise took to heal. He sighed, feeling the anger leaking from him as he resumed his sweeping near the village gates.
This was his lot in life. He was doomed to forever be a cripple, pushed around by those more powerful. He could always leave, but he knew he wouldn’t survive the week. After all, the last time he’d tried to escape, he’d ended up crippled and that was after only six hours. Without the ability to sense Essence, he had no way of avoiding dangerous Beasts. If he’d been injured so badly when both legs still worked, how would he fare now?
Roy let out a snort as he continued sweeping. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the White-Belts being instructed in their first technique. The Water Blade was the staple of their clan and what they were known for. The Martial Artist would manipulate the Essence in their bodies to take control of the water in the air, or if there wasn’t enough, create it using their own Essence. The water would then form into a half-moon blade, which could then be controlled by the Martial Artist.
This was, of course, only the most basic use of the technique. He’d personally seen Shah Lynn controlling no less than ten of the half-moon blades. She’d once demonstrated for a visiting clan and had diced a boulder the size of his house into a pile of perfectly shaped bricks in a matter of seconds.
In the Shah clan, the number of blades you could produce, as well as the precision you had with the technique, showed the potential one had as a Martial Artist. At only twenty-five years old, Shah Lynn was their star.
While most children reached Y
Roy saw one of the instructors looking over at him and belatedly realized that he’d once again stopped sweeping. He quickly resumed his duties, not wishing to be scolded or attacked again
It took him another hour to finish sweeping by the entrance to the village, after which he was forced to spend his time off working in the kitchens. It was hard, back-breaking work, as they went out of their way to make him move the heaviest items. This seemed to Roy as particularly cruel. When a Martial Artist reached Yellow-Belt, their bodies were reinforced with Essence, giving them more than natural strength and endurance. At least, he guessed as much, based on watching them work. He’d never been taught anything about the Martial Arts, as they would be wasted on him.
Any one of them could easily have moved the massive cauldrons, carried the heavy sacks of rice flour, or shoveled charcoal into the fire. They could have given him an easy job, like cutting vegetables or watching over the cooking pots, but they always insisted on working him to the bone. Their argument was that it wasn’t their fault he was a freak, and if he was normal, such tasks would be effortless.
It wasn’t all bad, though. When he worked in the kitchens, it was always easy for him to pilfer food. And since his pay was now being docked for two weeks, it was now more important than ever to do so. He’d saved up some money, but it wouldn’t have been enough to get him through two weeks, plus the week it would take for him to get his money once they did start paying him again.
Once he was done in the kitchens, he had fifteen minutes to eat lunch and give his aching muscles a break. Then he was off to the water pits, where the Martial Artists of the clan would cultivate Water essence. Here he would have to shovel away all the mud that had been churned up by the practicing youths and spread a fresh layer of gravel along the bottom of the shallow ponds.
Despite this being the most difficult of his daily tasks, Roy enjoyed this one the most. He would spend over four hours calf-deep in water. The gravel felt nice against his toes, and it was always shaded from the harsh sunlight. The clan made sure to keep an ample supply of bamboo growing around their cultivation ponds, so as to keep evaporation to a minimum and provide shade for their members.
It was nearing evening when Roy finally finished his task and put away the shovels and bags of gravel. He noted that the gravel was growing low and he would have to leave the village and gather some in the next day or two.
This was a rare occurrence, and one he enjoyed more than anything. He’d go far enough away that no one would be around, but not so far that he’d be in danger. He wished he could do so more often, but he was kept too busy to leave. Gathering gravel was an all-day trip, and he would have to report it to Shah Shota, the elder in charge of keeping the village maintenance.
Out of all the people in the Shah clan, Roy disliked the old man the least. He couldn’t say that he exactly liked him, but Shota would never go out of his way to make Roy miserable. That being said, he never went easy on him either and never scolded anyone for being cruel to him, not even the children.
As Roy limped over to the pavilion from where Shota directed his workers, he heard the sound of laughter coming from the direction of the village entrance. He grimaced as he recognized the voice as belonging to Koya. If he could pick someone he hated more than anyone in the clan, he would be at the top of his list.
He was two years younger than Roy, but as a Yellow-Belt, he out-ranked him within the clan. Not that it was any great accomplishment. Most five-year-olds outranked him. Koya seemed to take his presence as a personal insult and would go out of his way to make Roy’s life a living hell. Though he’d never outright attacked him, Koya had, by accident, of course, caused Roy no less than fourteen visits to the infirmary over the last two years.
He’d also broken several of his work tools, forcing Roy to have to pay to have them replaced and had broken the flimsy door to his house every time he’d come to fetch him for some menial task. He’d always apologized, saying that he didn’t know his own strength, but Roy could see the malice behind his eyes every time he did so. In short, Koya was a bully who enjoyed picking on those weaker than him. Of course, there was no one weaker than Roy.
“Roy, good you’re here. All finished for the day?” Elder Shota asked as Roy came up to sign his worksheet and write his hours.
“Yes, elder,” he said, noting that a red line had been marked near his name.
He felt his heart sink at that. He’d been hoping that Lynn would forget about docking his pay, but apparently, she hadn’t.
“I need to go refill the gravel in the next couple of days,” he said as he signed out for the day, placing the small brush back into the inkwell and stepping back.
“Very well,” Elder Shota replied, marking it down in his ledger. “Come to me in the morning for the gathering and storage constructs.”
Roy nodded, bowing respectfully before leaving. The amount of available gravel was obviously limited, so the village smiths had created several machines reinforced with Water Essence to mine it from underground, then gather them into a pocket space so it could be easily transported. The thought of not having to do backbreaking work tomorrow put a bit of a spring in Roy’s step.
He could already imagine his day away from this horrid place. He would leave at dawn, taking along his meals for the day. It would take him two hours to reach the last spot he’d marked on his map, but it would be an enjoyable walk, nonetheless.
Roy was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the foot that had been stuck out into his path. Though, he did notice it when he tripped and was sent sprawling face-first onto the ground.
“Hey, watch where you’re going, freak! You could have seriously injured my leg!”
Roy inwardly groaned. He’d been hoping to avoid running into him, but of course, the sadistic cockroach would come looking for trouble. Rolling over onto his back, he had to suppress a grimace as he stared up into the cruel eyes of Shah Koya.
2
“I apologize for getting in your way, Shah Koya,” Roy said, keeping his anger in check as he tried to get back to his feet. “I was careless. Please forgive me.”
Just as he managed to get his crippled leg braced, Koya’s foot lashed out, splintering the wood, causing him to topple over once more.
“I must apologize for that,” Koya’s voice said from above him, followed by the sniggering laughter of the rest of his friends. “My foot seems to have slipped and accidentally broken your brace.”
Roy could feel blood trickling down his cheek where he’d scraped it against the ground with his latest fall, but he gritted his teeth against the pain and indignity and forced himself onto his back once more.
“It is quite alright. Please forgive me for getting in your way,” he said, forcing an apologetic look onto his face.
It ate at Roy from the inside to have to apologize for something that was clearly not his fault, but once again, his self-preservation kicked in.
“But it’s not alright,” Koya said allowing a false look of concern to come to his face. “Please, allow me to help you to your house. After all, I did break your brace.”
Roy was about to refuse, but two of the boys in Koya’s group heaved him up off the ground and began dragging him in the direction of his small house, set near the outskirts of the village. This was quite a walk, as the Shah clan village was enormous. The clan itself boasted well over ten thousand members, all of which lived in the village. It had also been spread out to leave room for future growth.
The entire time they marched him to his house, he kept insisting that he was fine and that he could manage it on his own. Each time, Koya said that it was his duty to help the village cripple home. Roy wasn’t fooled easily and knew that Koya had something planned. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have deliberately tripped him, then broken his leg brace.
