"Heavens above… He's not just at the level of a Swordmaster." Patricia stared at Dorian, her body trembling in fear.

"His skill is approaching that of a Sword Saint!"

"The Commune is going to give birth to a new Saint!"

In the 30,000 Worlds, Mystic Martial Arts were the single largest grouping of powerful physical techniques. Almost all Mystic Martial Arts involved a visualization of some type.

When one grew skilled enough with a technique, one would be labelled a Swordmaster, an Axemaster, a Spearmaster, or a variety of other similar titles indicating this. Dorian had actually met a Swordmaster before.

Probus, of the Aurelius Reavers. Probus studied the Law of Cutting, meaning his skill as a Swordmaster was put into even greater effect.

Of those that practiced a skill or technique to a high level, the most common, by far, were Swordmasters, simply due to the fact that a vast number of popular Mystic Martial Arts focused on swordplay.

As for how one could come to be considered a 'Master' of any weapon, for most in the 30,000 Worlds, it was a test of power.

If one was able to unleash a technique using their weapon of choice that could cause catastrophic damage, without using Magic, one met the general bar to be called a Swordmaster.

While true skill did not always involve raw power, this was still the most commonly accepted way of proof.

Above Swordmasters, however, there existed a higher tier.

A tier of experts that stood head and shoulders above others. Freakishly skilled individuals that no amount of hard work could ever seem to match. Physical warriors that were able to challenge the strongest Wizards and stand on even ground.

The experts that strove for the peak and stood mightily above all other warriors.

The Saints.

It was known that, in the 30,000 Worlds, if two people had equally strong Soul Spell Matrixes, but one was a Wizard while the other was a Martial Artist, typically the Wizard would be stronger. Mystic Martial Arts were powerful, but Magic was far more versatile, able to easily draw upon the energy of the universe to create fantastic Spells.

Those that stood at the peak of skill, the Saints, were able to surmount that gap and fight evenly with Wizards of the same level. One and all, they were considered mighty figures, so adept with Martial Arts that almost nothing could stop them.

Whether it be race or creed, chosen Laws or techniques, those that were considered Saints were a diverse group, with experts spanning many different ranges. Their one common denominator was raw skill.

The number of Masters of a technique or weapon in the 30,000 Worlds was too large a number to count. There were trillions and trillions and trillions of beings in existence. Just by sheer numbers alone, it was possible to come across tens of thousands of Masters.

It was not the same for the Saints. The difficulty in achieving the level of a Saint was considered a sheer impossibility to most. To even become one, you had to be a freakishly talented individual.

In the 30,000 Worlds, across the trillions and trillions of creatures that existed, there were less than 100 known Saints.

An extremely small number.

"Swordmaster Inigo, how blind I was."

BOOM

Lord Gabito's right knee slammed into the ground, cracking the already cratered stone as he bowed his head. His previously sharp Aura vanished, replaced by one of humility.

"Forgive my impertinence. Thank you for humoring my challenge." As he spoke, Gabito's forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat. Awe and fear fought each other in his eyes as he witnessed Dorian's sheer display of skill.

Lord Gabito was a wizened expert. He had lived for well more than 100 years and fought in hundreds of battles. He had seen his fair share of experts and very few could drive him to his wit's end.

However, experts that could do what Dorian had just done were far and few between in Lord Gabito's eyes.

The last time he felt a sense of awe like this was when he personally witnessed one of the three Excelsiors that served under the High Priest of the Church of Light, Excelsior Larcaster, duel one of the Aurelius Family Generals during the Territorial War.

It was then he witnessed what true, elite skill was capable of. The terrible battle was imprinted on his mind, the power of the strong.

The awe he felt then... it was the exact same here.

Dorian simply smiled back quietly, as if it was nothing. He looked mysterious and wise, an expert whose power was unrivaled.

"It's nothing. In return for that little spar, I have a small favor I'd like to ask of you." His eyes flashed.

"Anything, great warrior! It would be my honor!" Lord Gabito's hand pounded his chest as he yelled a response, the air around him still crackling from the remnants of their clash.

Dorian gave him a nod and asked,

"Where might I find powerful medicine to treat injuries to the soul?"

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

"Patricia, what do we do?" Gavin pulled at his hair, the Light Wizard at a complete loss. He was standing in a small study, still wearing his durable Church of Light robes. The study was part of a larger private room and connected to a pair of private bedrooms, assigned to them by the City Lord.

"I don't know." The female Light Wizard muttered, rubbing her eyes.

"It's still there." She held up her hand, where a small glowing sigil could be seen, and continued,

"The presence of a Vampire remains on Lord Inigo and his wife."

"It obviously has to be his wife." Gavin cut in, shrugging.

"Yes, I agree. Her entire situation is suspicious. It's possible she is gravely ill, but to also coincidentally need to be wrapped up in cloth, hiding her Dark Points?" Patrica's eyes flashed,

"I am 95% certain she is a Vampire." She concluded.

"Only 95%?" Gavin looked at her curiously. Patricia was the de facto leader of the duo and usually followed her lead.

"There is a 5% chance that something else is causing the sigil to go off." Patricia sighed,

"But even so… how could we ask Lord Inigo? If he really is secretly allied with the Vampires, he will kill us immediately or lie about it and kill us later. If not, we will have badly offended him and his wife. His skill is approaching that of a Saint and making an enemy of that caliber is foolish."

She rubbed her eyes again, frustrated. Highly skilled warriors were notoriously touchy about topics regarding pride. It was not at all uncommon for those at the peak to attack those that slighted them, or at least hinder them.

A Shade like Lord Inigo… he was destined for greatness. Becoming his enemy unnecessarily would be unwise.

"Arrrrrgh." She swore aloud, walking over to a brown woolen couch that was in the study and kicking it. The couch flipped over from the force, smashing into the wall.

"Trish…" Gavin responded, holding his hand out at a loss.

"It's fine." The female Light Wizard said after a moment as she vented her irritation on the poor couch, obliterating it.

"We will send word to the headquarters." Her mouth twisted as she said that, as if she hated admitting she couldn't handle a situation.

"We will wait to see what they say."

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Dorian sat in a finely adorned room, his hands folded together. A pensive look appeared on his face as he looked at Helena's resting figure. The Vampire actually was sleeping on a luxurious looking couch, her body requiring much more sleep than usual due to its condition.

"A Superior Auction, huh?" He muttered, his mouth twisting.

He had talked with Lord Gabito for several minutes. According to the talented warrior, medicine that could heal injuries to the soul were a rare find here on Plantera. Indeed, they were rare on any world.

Injuries to the body were far, far, far more common than injuries to the soul. As a result, most people sold or traded in medicine or Pills that focused on that.

Further, it was much harder to treat an injury to the soul than to that of the body. Thus, Pills that could heal those injuries required a high level of skill and a powerful Soul Spell Matrix. This, added on to their low demand, made the Pills hold an extraordinary price.

In Fort Sutner, there was a large auction hosted every month called the Normal Auction. The auction was run by the Golden Moon Mercenary Alliance, surprising Dorian. The massive mercenary organization had several branches of business, and one of them was an auction organization that spanned thousands of worlds.

The Normal Auction was, as its name suggested, somewhat normal. For those below the Lord Class, it could be considered a grand function trading rare weapons, Pills, Inheritances, Manuals, and Spell Books. But to those at the Lord Class, oftentimes the Normal Auction was just normal. Occasionally there would be something rare or powerful, but that was the Normal Auction's limit.

It couldn't be helped. Fort Sutner was a city protected by a Lord Class expert, but Lord Gabito happened to be one of only a very few Lord Class experts that regularly lived in the city, despite its large size.

Lord Class experts were not a common occurrence when compared to the general population. There might come ten thousand Grandmaster Class experts without a single Lord Class expert arising. The difficulty in grasping a Law was just that high.

"The next Normal Auction is in 12 days. Even if I go to it, it's unlikely they will have anything that can treat Helena. I'm also not exactly wealthy…" He muttered as he looked over his Spatial Ring.

He'd used up a huge amount of the resources in his Spatial Ring over time, buying various things. He still had some of the high-level Gold Shields from the Borrel Autarchy, and a few Artifacts here and there, but nothing that would stand out as very rare or expensive.

"I need to make a lot of money really quickly or find some rare treasures, stuff that will be worth a lot. Why didn't I snag a few treasures from the Ascension Ruins instead of absorbing as many as I could, dammit?" He swore and shook his head. His thoughts had been fully focused on saving Will, he hadn't even considered looting anything.

"Further, I need to move to a planet that has a Superior Auction." According to Lord Gabito, he wouldn't be able to find a single Superior Auction anywhere on Plantera. The world had a lot of unique resources with its odd plant-based lifeforms, but not enough to draw the attention and worth of a Superior Auction, apparently.

Superior Auctions could be found on Exotic or Major Worlds, and rarely on worlds that bordered unique Exotic Worlds. The Auctions were held once every 3 months at each location, and usually drew a huge amount of attention. Lord Class experts were common and even King Class experts could be found in attendance, bidding for rare treasures.

At this level, many cultivators eschewed normal currency, even the enhanced and Magic currency from the Borrel Autarchy, preferring to trade directly with Magic Herbs, Pills, rare Artifacts, or other types of treasures.

"Of the Worlds with a Superior Auction on them, only two of them are anywhere near me. The Major World of Eneron, home to the headquarters of the Church of Light, roughly 12 planets distant, and the Normal World of Shaptel, 6 planets distant. Leaving the territory of the Shade Commune would require crossing 38 worlds in total." He said aloud, thinking it through.

"Eneron is a no-go, I absolutely need to avoid interacting with any major figures from the Church of Light. Walking up their doorstep would be incredibly foolish. I also don't think I could cross 38 different worlds under the control of the Shade Commune and remain undiscovered, so that's not an option." He shook his head.

"That only leaves Shaptel. Shaptel borders the highly dangerous Exotic World of Moria. A ruined world full of danger and treasure, drawing thousands of powerful explorers and treasure seekers. Home to the former headquarters of the now fallen Demon Race." He muttered, rubbing his chin.

This was all information he'd received directly from Lord Gabito. All of it seemed reliable.

"The Demons, huh..?" He frowned.

"I remember Leader said there was a Demonic Inheritance deep within Shade territory. It was how he fully came to understand the Law of Pride. This might be related to that. Only… it sounds incredibly dangerous. Do I really want to take Helena anywhere near that, in her current state?" He talked it over.

"Groan…"

Dorian's thoughts were thrown into disarray as he turned, looking at Helena.

The injured Vampire had shifted in her sleep, unconsciously letting out a moan. The pain she was going through was constant and significant, a side-effect of her badly injured soul.

His eyes hardened.

"I don't have a choice. It's only six planets away. I need to get her treated as soon as possible so we can escape at full speed without putting her at risk." His eyes flashed, determination filling them,

"To Shaptel it is."

.

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