Gleam Karma Cultivator Isekai

The ground shuddered. Chance steadied himself against a crumbling wall as a stone mound rose from the earth. It was completely covered with heavy chains – there must have been hundreds.

They shifted back like the petals of a blooming flower, revealing a rough, humanoid statue made of stone. It completely lacked any features or defining characteristics. It slowly stepped out from the bundle of chains, though its arms and legs were both still connected to them.

A jagged mouth carved itself into the figure’s face, sending tiny pebbles clattering down its body to the ground below. Chance glanced at his ruined urumi.

Damn, really wish that had lasted one more fight.

“Chance,” the stone said, its voice raspy. It was slightly higher pitched than he had expected a rock would sound like, but considering he’d never heard a rock talk before, there wasn’t much to compare it to.

“You – you’re the Old City,” Chance realized. “You can talk?”

“Not usually,” the rock replied, the chains rattling as it approached him. “I have taken measures to improve our communication temporarily. It was of grave importance.”

“So you can actually give me some real answers?”

“Some,” the Old City said with a jerky nod that came just a little too long after it finished speaking. “But you must understand more about cultivation to properly comprehend what I need to share with you.”

Chance’s eyes narrowed. “Is this going to put me in karmic debt? I’m still not really sure on the rules of that yet.”

The stone made a grating noise, and it took him a moment to realize that it was laughing. At least, he hoped it was laughing. “I do not cultivate Karma, but I know that lies do not establish a tie. If anything, I am in your debt.”

“Lies? What lie–” Chance paused. Then his brows knit. “Yamish. So we weren’t establishing debt between ourselves when he answered my questions?”

“There are too many interactions that happen on the daily to truly establish karma through mere explanations. If he had given you information that would allow you to launch your cultivation base up by a massive degree, then perhaps there would be debt. But mere instruction like you were given would establish nothing.”

“What does he want, then?” Chance asked. “I know he wants something.”

“Astute,” the Old City said.

Great. It’s sarcastic.

“Please, tell me then,” Chance said. “Why did I arrive here? What’s up with the Soothounds? What does Yamish care about me for?”

“You arrived on Centurion because you were chosen, just as all the other new arrivals were,” the Old City said. Stone rippled beneath it, forming into two chairs. It sat down in one and Chance slowly lowered himself into the other. The stone was cold against his back through the torn shirt.

“That’s not what I meant. Why did I arrive here? In the Old City.”

“Because I willed it.”

Chance raised an eyebrow. “You are not going to finish that sentence like that and expect me not to ask more.”

“I wasn’t done speaking,” the Old City said, adjusting itself in its seat. “I am unused to conversing like this. It is… strange. To answer this question, I must give you some of my own background.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere until I get some of the answers I just fought for. Go on.”

“When a high amount of Essence is present in an area, the people within it will become… more.”

“Right. Cultivation.”

“This is also true for objects, though they require considerably more Essence to gain sentience.”

“You?” Chance guessed. “There are so many cultivators in Gleam, so there’s got to be a huge amount of Essence just floating around.”

“Correct. There would be, if I were not consuming it. You call me the Old City, but I am truly just the awakened portion of Gleam. I have been gathering stray Essence for hundreds of years. Involuntarily at first, then consciously as my awareness grew.”

“So anything can cultivate?”

“Under the right conditions, though my cultivation is vastly different than yours. I do not pursue a specific path of Essence. I seek to understand the greater whole.”

“Is that even possible?” Chance asked, blinking.

“Not for a mortal. If you grow strong enough to break past your body’s limits, then perhaps. That is not anything that you will reach soon, though.”

“Okay, understood. But what does this have to do with me?”

“When mortals are taken from realms such as Earth, they do not have the capability to cultivate. Their bodies have so many impurities that it’s simply impossible to cultivate there – or here. Thus, when they arrive, the Giver removes a portion of their impurities and helps them see their path.”

“Someone I know mentioned the Giver as well,” Chance said. “What exactly is it?”

“A powerful entity, stronger than any cultivator here. I am uncertain of why it exists, but it does. But, the important part is not the Giver. It is that, when the Giver grants a mortal the power to cultivate by removing their impurities, it takes away part of them as well. They are lesser, weaker than they should be. And, because of this, it is much more difficult for them to reach the higher levels of cultivation.”

“Does he wipe our memory or something?” Chance asked. “I don’t recall ever meeting someone like that.”

“That’s because you didn’t, and that is why I brought you to me. You have potential. Somehow, when you arrived, you had already been cultivating. It has been countless years since such a thing has happened, and the power that you may posses in the future is why I drew you to me.”

“I think you might have gotten something mixed up. I only learned about cultivation here,” Chance said. “I certainly never did anything like it on Earth.”

“I am not here to argue semantics. This is what happened, regardless of whether you wish to believe it is true or not. Somehow, you had established a cultivation base before arriving here. It was weak, but it existed and, as such, the Giver had no reason to modify you.”

“I – okay. Let’s assume that’s correct for now,” Chance allowed. “Is that small difference really that significant?”

“More than you could ever imagine,” the Old City said. “Especially with the type of Essence you cultivate. Karma is terrifyingly powerful.”

“Yeah. I’ve seen Yamish. He’s also a Karma cultivator, isn’t he?”

“He is. And that leads us to problem that I seek to treat. The reason I need your power. There are many ways to cultivate Karma. Your current path is firmly treading along cultivating good Karma.”

“Is there such a thing as good or bad Karma? They’re two sides of the same coin.”

“More wisdom than I would expect from someone of your age. But yes, there is. The difference is subtle, but makes leagues of difference when applied. Your karmic path consumes debt that someone already has. You are manifesting a way to force them to pay for what they have already bought.”

“And Yamish?”

“He twists. Enslaves.”

A chill prickled Chance’s spine. “The Soothounds? The human ones? And the Imp! They were him? He did that?”

“It is his path. He feeds on the Karma of others, drawing their strength and forcing them to pay the debts that he accrues.”

“Holy shit. He’s a monster.”

“His path pursues perfect balance. He justifies his misdeeds by balancing them out, but that does not make it so that his crimes do not exist. Yamish is likely one of the most powerful cultivators Centurion has ever seen. He is not a monster. He is Yamish – and that is much worse.”

“And he just happened to be waiting in a bunch of alleyways for me?”

“No. That was not Yamish’s true body. His true form is in the cosmos, seeking greater strength. The Yamish you have interacted with is nothing more than an Essence Clone – a tiny fragment of his will. Be thankful. If the true Yamish knew of your existence and desired anything from you, you would be no more.”

Chance swallowed. “The clone hasn’t told him? And why does he care about me at all? I can’t be that unique.”

“It will, when they next meet. But they do not meet often, and you are correct. In an infinite cosmos, incredibly rare opportunities are no longer quite so rare. That is why Yamish has thousands of fragments scattered throughout the worlds, all seeking power. You are but one of many.”

Assuming you’re telling me the truth, that is. People here seem to have a habit of lying about their true intentions, myself included. I guess Yamish is technically the reason I can’t be honest with Bella and Yeo, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that I’m lying to them. Yamish obviously wasn’t a great person, but I’m not sure I’m going to blindly trust the city here either. I need more information.

Chance’s hands tightened. “Okay. So I need to find a way to get rid of the clone before it meets with the real guy.”

“Correct. That will not be an easy task, but if you wish to live, it is the one you must take.”

“I don’t suppose I’ve got any chance against him right now?”

“You will die a thousand times before you even scratch him at your current strength. You must grow more powerful.”

“Right, gathered that much,” Chance said with a nervous laugh. “Get stronger than a god. That can’t be too difficult. But why are you telling me this? You were working with him.”

“I was not working for anyone,” the Old City said, a hint of anger rising in its monotone voice. The chains connected to it rattled. “Why do you think Yamish was within my alleyways when you arrived? He sought my power. When I brought you here, it was as a way to seek freedom from him, not aid him.”

“You expect me to be able to save you from Yamish? Why not just ask the city? There are a ton of powerful cultivators here, aren’t there?”

“There are. And some have the strength to stand against Yamish’s clone. But none would do it without forcing me into a situation where I would lose as much as I gain. There is great power in controlling the manifestation of a city as large as Gleam.”

“So… you come to me? A kid that started cultivating a few months ago? Why? Because I’m not going to rake you over the coals with some terrible business deal?”

“Yes.”

“I – wow, that was blunt. Aren’t you betting a lot on me succeeding?”

“No. If I believe you will fail, I will reach out to the other cultivators on Centurion. They will fight Yamish, and they will win. The cost will be great, but preferrable to the alternative.”

“Gee, so you’ve literally only gone with me as your first choice since you think I’m a sucker that will help you for free.”

“Yes.”

“I’d punch you if I didn’t think I’d break my hand in the process.”

“Your Path leads you to help others,” the Old City said, placing its hands on its knees. “And, as such, you are my greatest chance for surviving this as myself. If other cultivators step in, they will tear me apart fighting for my power. What remains will not truly be me, but many fragments of my former self.”

“That’s seriously screwed up,” Chance said, grimacing in distaste. “I thought Gleam was a fairly nice place. Are you sure they won’t just help?”

“You are fodder raised to fight the weak monsters that spawn within the Gleam from the worst parts of humanity. The Essence of every sin and mistake that every mortal unknowingly contributes to, all mashed together and given form. This peace is a beautiful dream that will shatter once you grow strong enough to see the truth. Weak Shikari are not a policing force. You are the food which the darkness in this city feeds itself and, in such, leaves the important mortals alone.”

Chance swallowed. “You can’t be serious. You mean they want us to die?”

“No. They simply don’t care. You keep the monsters off the streets and give the powerful cultivators a place to rest in when they are not fighting for more power. It is a trade. I do not think I am a bad city, but nothing in this world – or any world – comes for free.”

“Except for my help, apparently.”

“Apparently.”

“You know, I haven’t agreed to help you yet. And, technically, you could be lying. Yamish has warned and helped me several times.”

“Yamish grows you like a fruit, waiting until the time is right to pluck you.”

“Says you,” Chance said. “Although he did make me eat monsters. That’s pretty screwed up.”

The Old City cleared its throat in a remarkably human motion. “Actually, that was beneficial.”

“Wh– seriously? How?”

“Monsters are condensed Essence. Normally, they would react very poorly when ingested, as they would mutate within you upon coming into contact with your impurities. However, you seem to have no impurities whatsoever. This allows you to safely draw the Essence straight out of them in small portions.”

Chance rose to his feet and started to pace around the chair. “So you’re telling me that Yamish has helped me there too. He also seemed to imply that I owe you some debt, and everything I do was just paying that back. I don’t trust Yamish at all, but why should I trust you?”

“You don’t have to,” the Old City said. “But do not tell him of my awareness under any circumstances. He knows Gleam has power, but does not realize that I have awakened. If he does, he will likely seek out his main body immediately. Then we will both be dead.”

Chance studied the Old City’s rocky features, but it was impossible to read a literal statue. He sighed.

“Okay. I won’t say anything, but I do feel like you’ve said a lot of things that add up. I still don’t trust you, though. We’ll call it a working partnership until I know more.”