Old Whitebrand had a unique smell—mildew and rust, punctuated by the sweeter notes of the strange fungi that thrived in its abandoned structures. Elias followed Mama Reeves through streets that had once been grand boulevards but now lay buried under decades of silt and vegetation. Collapsed buildings created a maze of partial walls and precarious archways, while the omnipresent fog from the nearby river shrouded everything in ghostly white.
"This was the Merchant's District before the Great Flood," Mama Reeves explained as they navigated the ruins. "When the river changed course, the water damage weakened the foundations. Rather than rebuild, the city's rulers simply expanded northward, leaving this area to decay."
Elias noted the distinctive architecture—ornate stone facades now green with moss, elaborate cornices worn smooth by water and time. "It must have been beautiful once."
"It was. My father was a textile merchant with a shop on Weaver's Row." She pointed to a half-collapsed structure whose remaining wall featured the faded outline of a loom. "I grew up counting spools and measuring silk for noble ladies who came downriver on shopping excursions."
Her voice carried an unexpected warmth when speaking of the past. This was a different Mama Reeves than the calculating leader of the River Rats—a woman with her own history of loss and adaptation.
"What happened?" Elias asked.
"The flood came. The nobles abandoned their investments here. Those who couldn't afford to move upriver became the first River Rats." Her expression hardened. "The city's rulers promised reconstruction that never came. Instead, they raised new towers while this district rotted."
They walked in silence for a time, picking their way through debris. Elias found himself studying the memory-traces that lingered here—ghostly imprints of bustling markets, hurrying messengers, merchants haggling over prices. Old Whitebrand had been vibrant once, filled with uncultivated humans building lives through mundane commerce rather than spiritual energy.
"We're being followed," Mama Reeves said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Elias had sensed it too—a disturbance in the memory-traces, new patterns overlaying the ancient ones. "How many?"
"Three, I think. Moving parallel to us, about fifty paces to our right."
He extended his senses, focusing on the fresher traces. "Four," he corrected. "They're trying to flank us."
Mama Reeves raised an eyebrow but didn't question his certainty. "Archivists?"
"No." The patterns didn't match the disciplined movements of cultivators. "More furtive. Less coordinated. Local predators, most likely."
"Scavengers," Mama Reeves confirmed grimly. "They hunt in the ruins, preying on anyone foolish enough to enter their territory unprotected." She patted a small knife at her belt. "I counted on avoiding their usual hunting grounds."
Elias assessed their options. Running would likely trigger pursuit. Fighting unidentified opponents in unfamiliar territory carried its own risks. "Can we reach safer ground before they intercept us?"
"The eastern gate is still two hours away at our current pace." Mama Reeves scanned their surroundings. "There's an old temple nearby. Stone walls, defensible entrance. If we can reach it..."
"Lead the way."
They increased their pace, no longer concerned with stealth. Behind them, their pursuers abandoned subtlety as well. Occasional sounds—a displaced stone, a metallic scrape—confirmed they were closing the distance.
The temple appeared suddenly through the fog—a square structure with a partially collapsed dome, its facade ornamented with weathered statues of forgotten deities. Once a center of pre-cultivation worship, it now stood as a monument to abandoned faiths.
"Through here," Mama Reeves directed, heading toward a narrow doorway half-concealed by climbing vines.
As they approached, Elias caught movement from the corner of his eye—a shadow detaching itself from deeper shadows, moving to intercept them. Without breaking stride, he altered his course slightly, positioning himself between the threat and Mama Reeves.
The attack came swiftly—a figure lunging from behind a fallen column, crude spear aimed at Elias's midsection. His enhanced reflexes allowed him to sidestep the thrust, grabbing the shaft and yanking his attacker forward. The momentum sent the assailant stumbling past him, off-balance and vulnerable.
A second attacker emerged from above, having positioned themselves on a partial ledge. They dropped down with a curved blade raised for a killing stroke. Elias pivoted, using the spear shaft to deflect the descending blade. The impact splintered the wooden shaft, but disrupted the attacker's momentum.
"Run!" he shouted to Mama Reeves, who had already reached the temple entrance.
Rather than fleeing inside, however, she turned and hurled her knife with surprising accuracy. It embedded itself in the shoulder of a third attacker who had been creeping up behind Elias.
The wounded scavenger cried out—a sound more animal than human. The noise seemed to trigger something in the others, who began producing similar howls. Battle cries or communication signals, Elias couldn't tell.
Combat Analysis: 4 opponents.Threat Level: D (Non-Cultivators). Abnormal Behavior Patterns Detected.Recommended Course: Terminate Threats
With the System's assessment confirming his own, Elias abandoned restraint. Using his enhanced strength, he delivered a precise strike to the nearest attacker's sternum. Bone cracked beneath his fist, and the scavenger dropped, gasping for breath that wouldn't come.
The spear-wielder recovered and charged again, now wielding the broken shaft like a club. Elias caught the swing mid-arc, twisting the improvised weapon from his opponent's grasp. A swift kick to the knee collapsed the attacker, followed by a blow to the temple that rendered them unconscious.
The remaining two scavengers hesitated, apparently reassessing the odds. Elias got his first clear look at them in the dim light—and felt a chill of revulsion.
They were human, but barely. Their skin bore patches of grayish fungal growth, similar to the varieties that flourished in the ruins. Their eyes were filmed over with a milky substance that should have rendered them blind, yet they moved with disturbing precision. Most tellingly, cultivation scars marked their forearms and necks—the distinct patterns of failed spiritual enhancement procedures.
"Cultivation rejects," Mama Reeves explained from the temple entrance. "Failed experiments from House Veritan's early-phase testing. They dump the unsuccessful subjects here rather than provide proper disposal."
The two remaining attackers circled warily, communicating through guttural sounds. They seemed to be coordinating a joint attack.
"We need to get inside," Elias said, backing slowly toward the temple. "There will be more soon."
As if confirming his assessment, distant howls echoed through the ruins. The abandoned district apparently housed an entire population of these unfortunate creatures.
The moment they reached the temple entrance, the scavengers charged. Elias grabbed a loose stone from the crumbling doorway and hurled it with desperate force. It caught one attacker in the forehead, dropping them instantly. The second managed to reach the threshold before Mama Reeves slammed the heavy wooden door shut, nearly severing the creature's reaching fingers.
Howls of frustration sounded from outside as they secured the door with a fallen beam. The temple's interior was surprisingly intact—a circular chamber with a high ceiling, portions of which had collapsed to admit thin beams of moonlight. Ancient altars lined the walls, their surfaces long stripped of anything valuable.
"We should be safe here until dawn," Mama Reeves said, catching her breath. "The rejects rarely maintain interest in a secured target for long. Poor creatures have limited attention spans after the cultivation damage to their minds."
Elias watched through a crack in the door as the gathered scavengers milled about outside, gradually losing interest as predicted. "They were human once. Cultivator candidates?"
"Mostly desperate commoners who volunteered for early-stage clinical tests. House Veritan pays well for test subjects, but doesn't advertise the risks." Mama Reeves settled onto a stone bench, wincing slightly. "The Noble Houses need fodder for their experimental techniques before trying them on valuable disciples."
The casual cruelty of the system struck Elias anew. Whitebrand's cultivation economy consumed human lives at every level—from factory workers exposed to spiritual pollution to expendable test subjects discarded when no longer useful.
"Why doesn't anyone stop it?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Power," Mama Reeves replied simply. "The seven Houses control everything—food, shelter, water access, employment. Cross them, and you don't just lose your position. You lose your right to exist within their domain."
She gestured around the temple. "This district is the physical manifestation of their attitude toward the non-cultivating population. Once useful, now abandoned, left to decay while they build ever higher towers."
Elias settled on the floor opposite her, leaning against a weathered altar. His body still hummed with combat readiness, senses alert for any intrusion. "You could have left Whitebrand. Found somewhere less exploitative."
"And go where? The outer territories are worse—ruled by minor sects with even fewer scruples. At least here, in the shadows of the towers, there are spaces between their control." She smiled thinly. "River Rats survive by finding those spaces and expanding them, bit by bit."
The conversation lapsed into silence. Outside, the scavengers had dispersed, though occasional howls suggested they remained in the vicinity. Elias took the opportunity to inspect the temple more thoroughly.
The architecture was unlike anything in modern Whitebrand. The walls bore inscriptions in a language he didn't recognize, yet somehow understood—another manifestation of his awakening bloodline. They spoke of "memory as the true divine essence" and "experience as the path to transcendence." Doctrines that aligned remarkably with Memory Walker philosophy.
Had his ancestors helped build this temple? Or had they merely found affinity with its existing theology when they arrived on this world?
In the center of the chamber, a circular depression in the floor contained the remains of some mechanism—gears and channels carved directly into the stone, now filled with centuries of dust and debris. Elias cleared away some of the accumulation, revealing patterns similar to those on the catalyst disc from the Memory Walker chest.
"There's something here," he called to Mama Reeves, who had been resting with her eyes closed.
She joined him, examined the mechanism, then nodded slowly. "Old magic. Pre-Cultivation Era, like the chest." She pointed to symbols around the edge of the depression. "These match what we found."
Elias knelt beside the circular mechanism, running his fingers along the intricate channels and grooves. As he touched the central node, a shock of recognition passed through him. This wasn't just similar to Memory Walker technology—it was Memory Walker technology. A receiving platform designed to interface with artifacts like the catalyst disc.
"This is a Memory Temple," he murmured, the knowledge rising unbidden from his awakening bloodline.
"A what?" Mama Reeves asked, eyebrows raised.
Elias hesitated, uncertain how much to reveal. But after all they'd been through, partial honesty seemed appropriate. "A specialized structure from before the Cultivation Era. Designed for knowledge preservation and transfer."
She studied him with increased interest. "And you know this... how?"
"I've been researching pre-Cultivation artifacts," he deflected. "Certain patterns recur across different sites."
"Mmm." She clearly didn't believe him but chose not to press. "Well, whatever it is, it's long dead now. No power source."
Elias wasn't so certain. As his fingers traced the central node, he could feel a faint resonance—not cultivation energy, but something older, deeper. A power source that responded not to qi manipulation but to bloodline recognition.
On impulse, he pressed his palm firmly against the central node and closed his eyes, focusing inward as he had when unlocking the Memory Walker chest. His awareness extended down through his arm, into the stone, seeking connection.
For several heartbeats, nothing happened. Then, with a subsonic hum that vibrated his teeth, the mechanism stirred. Dust sifted from the channels as gears rotated a quarter-turn. The central node warmed beneath his palm, and symbols etched around the depression began to emit a faint blue luminescence.
"By all the forgotten gods," Mama Reeves whispered, backing away slightly.
Elias maintained contact, heart pounding with excitement and trepidation. The temple was responding to him—to his bloodline. But without the catalyst disc or a memory crystal to interface with the platform, he couldn't access its full functionality.
Still, even this partial activation might yield information. He focused his attention on the glowing symbols, allowing his bloodline intuition to interpret their meaning.
Memory Node 37: Eastern Territories.Last Updated: Year 103 of Exile.Status: Dormant (Power Conservation Mode).Detection Protocols: Active.Warning: Seeker Beacon Disabled
The information flowed into his awareness, fragments of a system far more vast than he had imagined. This temple was one of many, a node in a network established by the Memory Walkers during their time on this world. They had created an infrastructure for their specialized abilities, hidden beneath the notice of the native population.
More intriguing was the mention of "Seeker Beacon Disabled." The journal had warned about Seekers detecting rapid bloodline awakening. Were they some kind of enforcement entity from the Memory Walkers' home world? Hunters sent to find the refugees?
As he pondered this, a new set of symbols illuminated around the edge of the mechanism.
Bloodline Detected: Walker Lineage (Diluted).Authentication: Partial (Thorne Sub-Family).Access Level: Basic Recovery Functions.Query: Initiate Emergency Protocol?
Elias hesitated. Emergency Protocol sounded both promising and dangerous. Without knowing what it entailed, activating it could be reckless. Yet this might be his only opportunity to access Memory Walker knowledge beyond what the journal contained.
Before he could decide, his connection to the mechanism was interrupted by Mama Reeves grabbing his shoulder.
"Someone's coming," she hissed, pointing toward a section of the domed ceiling that had partially collapsed. "Not scavengers. Organized movement."
Elias pulled his hand away from the central node. The glowing symbols faded immediately, though the mechanism remained partially activated, humming softly in the darkness.
He strained his enhanced senses, detecting what Mama Reeves had noticed—the disciplined movements of multiple individuals approaching the temple. Not the shambling gait of cultivation rejects, but the purposeful advance of trained operatives.
"How did they find us?" he whispered.
Mama Reeves's expression darkened. "Perhaps they were already looking for this place. And we led them right to it."
"Or..." Elias glanced at the mechanism, which had described its detection protocols as 'active.' "Perhaps it called to them when it activated."
They retreated from the central depression, taking cover behind one of the larger altars. Through gaps in the collapsed ceiling, shadowy figures were now visible, descending into the temple using ropes and specialized equipment. They moved with military precision, securing entry points and establishing defensive positions.
Elias counted at least six operatives, all wearing form-fitting dark clothing with minimal insignia. Not House Mendel's Archivists, nor Brass Tiger enforcers. These were something else—a specialized unit with training beyond standard cultivation sect security.
"The Hidden Hand," Mama Reeves whispered, confirming his suspicion. "I recognize the movement patterns. They're the ones who've been asking about you."
One of the operatives reached the temple floor and approached the central mechanism, producing a device similar to the bloodline detector the Archivists had used. Unlike that device, however, this one didn't malfunction when activated. It emitted a soft, pulsing light as the operative swept it around the chamber.
"Active readings," the operative reported, voice muffled by a mask but clearly feminine. "Recent usage, within the last ten minutes. Bloodline signature confirmed."
A second operative joined the first, examining the mechanism directly. "Memory Node 37, as intelligence suggested. Partial activation only. The subject must still be nearby."
The leader of the group—distinguished by subtle markings on their uniform—made a series of hand signals. The team immediately spread out, beginning a methodical search of the temple's interior.
Elias and Mama Reeves exchanged glances. Their hiding place wouldn't conceal them for long against such thorough searchers. Fighting was equally problematic—these weren't cultivation rejects or even standard sect enforcers. They were elite operatives with unknown capabilities.
"The back passage," Mama Reeves mouthed silently, pointing toward a section of wall behind their position.
Elias looked but saw only solid stone. Then, focusing his enhanced vision, he detected what she had somehow known—a hairline crack outlining a concealed door, nearly invisible in the temple's weathered interior.
They crept toward it as the search continued, using the massive altars as cover. When they reached the wall, Mama Reeves pressed specific points in a practiced sequence. The hidden door shifted inward with only the faintest scraping sound.
Beyond lay a narrow maintenance passage, pitch black and thick with cobwebs. They slipped inside just as a light beam swept across their previous position.
The passage was tight—barely wide enough for Elias's shoulders, forcing them to move sideways in places. It smelled of mold and stagnant water, suggesting it connected to the old drainage systems beneath the district.
"How did you know about this?" Elias whispered as they navigated the darkness, guided only by Mama Reeves's memory and his enhanced night vision.
"River Rats map all the old structures," she replied. "Especially those with unusual features. This temple has been a landmark in our navigation charts for generations."
After several minutes of claustrophobic travel, the passage widened into a junction where multiple tunnels converged. Ancient maintenance markings, barely visible beneath centuries of grime, indicated directions to different sections of the district.
"We need to keep moving," Mama Reeves urged. "The Hidden Hand has probably discovered our escape route by now."
Elias nodded in agreement, but found himself hesitating. The temple had recognized him, had offered access to an "Emergency Protocol." Whatever the Memory Walkers had hidden there might be crucial to understanding his bloodline and the System integrating with it.
And now the Hidden Hand—whoever they truly were—had control of that site.
"Why are they so interested in me?" he asked aloud, though it was more rhetorical than directed at Mama Reeves.
She answered anyway. "The Hidden Hand collects secrets and abilities others have forgotten or suppressed. If your connection to that mechanism means what I think it does, you represent both to them."
Before Elias could respond, a deep vibration passed through the tunnels—not sound but pressure, like the precursor to an explosion. Dust sifted from the ceiling as the vibration intensified.
"They're collapsing the passage!" Mama Reeves exclaimed. "Run!"
They sprinted down the widest tunnel as the rumbling grew louder behind them. Elias could hear stone cracking, supports failing as some kind of controlled demolition compressed the ancient maintenance passages.
The Hidden Hand wasn't just covering their tracks—they were trying to trap or eliminate anyone who had accessed the temple before their arrival.
The tunnel ahead showed signs of previous collapse, forcing them to climb over debris piles and squeeze through narrowed sections. Elias's enhanced strength proved invaluable, allowing him to clear obstacles that might otherwise have blocked their escape.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of desperate flight, they emerged into a larger chamber—the remains of an underground reservoir, now mostly dry except for a shallow pool in the center. Moonlight filtered through grates in the ceiling, providing dim illumination.
They paused to catch their breath, listening to the distant rumble of continuing collapses. For the moment, they appeared to have outpaced the destruction.
"That should slow them down," Mama Reeves said between gasps. "These reservoirs connect to the main drainage system. We can follow it all the way to the eastern gate."
Elias nodded, still processing what had happened at the temple. The Hidden Hand clearly knew about the Memory Walker network and had been searching for this particular node. His inadvertent activation had likely confirmed what they had only suspected.
"Mama Reeves," he said slowly, "you knew more about that temple than you initially let on."
She straightened, meeting his gaze directly. "And you know more about yourself than you've admitted."
A moment of tense silence passed between them. Then she sighed. "I was a Veritan archivist once, before I became the River Rats leader. I've seen references to pre-Cultivation structures like that temple. They're associated with legends of memory manipulation and knowledge preservation."
She gestured toward his eyes, where the golden flecks had become more pronounced during his System trials. "When that mechanism responded to you, it confirmed something I've suspected since you mentioned Memory Walkers. You carry their bloodline, don't you?"
There seemed little point in further deception. "Yes. Though I only discovered this recently myself."
"That explains the interest from both the Archivists and the Hidden Hand." She frowned thoughtfully. "The Hidden Hand has been searching for Memory Walker descendants for decades. They believe your ancestors possessed knowledge that could disrupt the current balance of power among the Noble Houses."
"And what do you believe?" Elias asked.
Mama Reeves studied him for a long moment. "I believe you're dangerous—not by choice, but by nature. The cultivation establishment fears bloodline abilities they cannot control through traditional methods. If they confirm what you are, they won't stop until you're either contained or eliminated."
Her assessment matched his own growing understanding of his precarious position. "Then I need to become strong enough that containment or elimination isn't an option."
"A dangerous ambition," Mama Reeves observed. "Though perhaps a necessary one."
A distant sound interrupted their conversation—voices echoing through the drainage tunnels, accompanied by the methodical footsteps of multiple pursuers.
"The Hidden Hand is persistent," Mama Reeves muttered. "We need to keep moving."
As they prepared to continue their escape, Elias felt a now-familiar pressure building in his mind—the precursor to another System trial. The timing couldn't have been worse.