Yara chose to keep quiet and meditate for the meantime. She focused inward to inspect her spiritual core.
It was a pure ice white sphere that rotated clockwise as spiritual energy entered the core. The spiritual energy formed a blue layer on the outside of the white core. After this short round of energy gathering, the core stopped its rotation to then begin rotating counterclockwise while expelling the gathered spiritual energy. This energy is circulated all throughout Yara's body tempering the muscles, sharpening bones, and hardening the tissue. After another moment Yara took a deep breath before clenching her fists tightly.
"I hate this part," she thought as the gathered energy was being absorbed back into her spiritual core.
As this occurred a burning pain began coursing through her abdomen. Yara had to clench her eyes and teeth in order to focus on the gathering process. The spiritual core spun faster and faster with each rotation until it became a blur to the naked eye. During the entire process, not a single drop of spiritual energy was leaked out or wasted.
The entire three part process took roughly 30 seconds before Yara successfully refined the spiritual energy into her ice white spiritual core. For a comparison it would've taken Malcolm roughly thirty minutes before he would finish the same process. For someone with a low aptitude it would've perhaps have taken more than an hour. This is one of many benefits of a super grade aptitude.
Mashallah kept one eye on Yara and saw the entire inner process, she smiled gently.
"Good, she's still building her foundation diligently."
Mashallah finished wiping Malcolm's face as Yara completed her practice. She stood up with a calm and gentle grace and looked at Mashallah.
"Everything ok Auntie?"
"Yes dear, everything's done now. You can go and finish the rest of your tour."
Yara bowed respectfully at Mashallah who only waved it aside.
Malcolm stood a slight distance away at the door with a guarded look on his face.
"C'mon, let's go."
Malcolm looked at Yara with a slightly weary gaze when she said that. Yara's eyes only looked back at Malcolm with the brightness of newborn butterfly, flapping its wings to fly a course through life. And a beautiful course it would be.
"You mind if I walk 'round here for a bit?"
Yara put a finger to her mouth to think for a moment. A gentle stream of wind blew in the empty room before Yara responded.
"Well if auntie doesn't mind it... then sure."
By the time Yara turned her head Mashallah already waved her hand as a gust of wind gently guided Malcolm out the room. The door opened and closed leaving Malcolm by himself for the moment in that hallway.
He breathed in and out a long tired breath. The hallway was quiet aside from the chatter of nearby people in their rooms. Even through the stone walls Malcolm could hear them all very clearly.
He took small steps across the hallway, taking his time to just breathe in and out. He held his eyes halfway open, looking as if sleep wanted to take him. Both shoulders were let down before Malcolm fully realized it.
The path Malcolm took led to an open field with lush greenery all around. It stretched out for what Malcolm saw to be several miles out. A jungle canopy hovered high above basking in the warmth of sunlight. Malcolm entered inside, appearing like a child of said sun. The ground felt muddy and wet as soon both feet became the color brown and smelled like a warthog. Cicadas buzzed out with a deafening frequency. Tiny gnats flew about trying to feed on Malcolm's blood, but all they got was a cold look before moving on.
A river could be heard swirling nearby, on the path to a destination yet unknown. Malcolm walked towards it with faraway eyes and a calm step. The water was the color blue, a clean and bright blue being illuminated by the heavenly rays above. Malcolm walked out from a dark bush then stopped right before the river. His breaths came in and out slowly as the energy of the world surrounded him but could not enter his being.
For what core could hold it now? This lowly being wasn't even native to this world. And now he wasn't even native to himself.
Malcolm grabbed a patch of dirt with both hands to plug his ears closed. The dirt was soon squeezed into his ears filling them up all the way. Yet this didn't do anything but return Malcolm's hearing back to that of a regular person. He put both hands to each ear and pressed them inward, as if trying to pop a grape. After a minute his hearing finally began to sound muted. Malcolm proceeded to close his eyes while he took his first steps into the river.
The water felt cool and gentle on Malcolm's feet. The color of the river found itself entering Malcolm's heart but for now he suppressed it to walk deeper.
This young eerie black creature soon found himself knee deep into this body of water. The water gently swished up and down Malcolm's body. Now the water was chest high for Malcolm then opened his eyes and looked down.
A dull face reflected back from the water's surface. Pure and dark as midnight, shaped like an egg, eyes white like pearls found in salty water. Malcolm dropped his hands from his ears to scoop up a bit of water. The image didn't change much aside from a hint of confusion, then it turned to desolation.
Malcolm suddenly began scrubbing his face, as if to wash away dirt that only he could see. He scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until the friction created started lighting a small fire on his face.
Malcolm let his hands drop to the wayside while the fire spread across his face. But strangely enough his skin never burned, no pain was felt. The fire came up to cover his eyes, obscuring the world of those obsidian eyes. His entire head turned into a ball of fire while the water covered the rest of Malcolm's body. He stood there in that body of water and a skull of fire masking his true self.
"Nothin'... nothin' at all," Malcolm muttered dryly as he let his body float down the river.
Malcolm shut his eyes once more as he sunk into old images of the past. The first image that appeared was that of home. That old worn down brick housing project was all someone like Malcolm ever knew. He could still smell the alcohol and burnt cigarettes in the air. Where ever the grass used to grow there were a many little kids that ran around all over to play and laugh. Right near them were often older boys and men who dealt in the illicit business of selling narcotics, Malcolm himself had dabbled in that business to make ends meet for him and his brother.
The thought of Malachi triggered an image of him to appear in front of him. Malcolm stood there with a sad look to his foreign face and new clothes.
He walked up to Malachi and reached out a hand only for it to be slapped away. Malachi had an unamused and disappointed look on his face as he spoke.
"Who the hell are you?" He spoke in the same vain many would use when encountering anyone who was undesired in every since of the word.
"It's... it's me bro. Malcolm." Malachi shook his head at the quiet almost meek response.
"Ain't no way in God's good earth you my brother. You black as tar, bro' won't that damn black I know that much. Now who the fuck is you for real?" Malachi took a couple of steps away from Malcolm, whom soon put his eyes to the concrete ground beneath him.
"M-Malachi... it's me man. I'm serious," Malcolm spoke out quietly in a hushed and somber tone.
Malachi merely narrowed his eyes in evident hatred.
"Ain't no damn brother of mine gonna just up and leave his family behind nigga. Ain't no damn brother of mine gonna run himself to another world, only to end up even more fucked up than before," he spat venomously at Malcolm's black face as he turned around to run away. But not without one more insult.
"Ma was right! You ain't no better than dad was mothafucka!" Malcolm's whole body shot forward like a bullet and blocked Malachi's path.
He stood in the path of the little brother, like something akin to a column pillar made of obsidian that was ready to crash down.
Malcolm exuded an invisible pressure that could make a lesser man choke if he breathed wrong.
Yet Malachi stood up as tall as he could, showing no weakness in his bright young eyes. He clenched his fists as he rose them up into a boxing stance.
"Don't do it!" Malcolm shouted out too late as Malachi punched forward with a left straight.
Crack!
Malachi's fist immediately broke upon impact with Malcolm's body.
"Arrrgh fuuuck!" The boy hollered in pain like a banshee as he fell to the ground clutching his broken fist. He writhed around on the ground like a worm in summer heat, helpless and in need of a better life.
Just as Malcolm was reaching out a hand to help, someone bashed Malcolm aside like a vermin on the road. Malcolm looked to see it was his good friend Tayvone who shoved him aside to help Malachi in his place.
"Yo! Malachi lemme see your hand!" Malachi obliged with tearful eyes full of fear and anger.
Tay lifted his hand up to see that Malachi's knuckles were bent inward. He scowled in anger as he turned that fury towards the cause of this pain.
"Boxer's fracture, to your own blood. You ain't shit on the road bitch-ass nigga," Tay spoke this vitriol in a low calm voice that promised payback.
Malcolm only stood there, nearly resembling the elements for how still and rigid he had become.
Tay picked up Malachi who cried into his chest while gripping his shoulders. He walked past Malcolm but not before saying his last words.
"And by the way just to let you know, we doing just fine without your black ass. So you can go die in that world for all we care. It's not like niggas will miss you to begin with." With that final speech Tayvone left with Malachi leaving Malcolm all alone, like he always ended up.
For a long time he stood there, letting a weight form from within that finally brought him to his knees. Even with his bare skin meeting the concrete, no pain registered.
Well perhaps that's not entirely true. There was pain, a great pain like no other. This pain caused his hands to shake uncontrollably. His breathing quickened. His face could no longer mask the myriad feelings that threatened to erupt from his damaged spirit.
He foamed at the mouth like a dog with rabies while his teeth nashed and grinded against one another. His eyes were now blood red with tears pouring out. Malcolm shook his head from side to side in a vain attempt to hide this growing madness. But it was too late.
For once he looked up he saw that everyone from his neighborhood surrounded him in a circle. Many of the brothers were looking at him with disappointment and anger waiting to flare out. The sisters were holding hands to their mouths as some cried in pity for the terrible sight that was Malcolm Brooks.
His mother looked on from beyond the crowd with a face of disappointment as she said." No better than your damn father, both of you came and went."
With that the image of earth slowly eroded away, like man returning to dust. Reality came back for Malcolm as he continued floating down that narrow river.
Half an hour passed before the fire was finally consumed by the river as Malcolm rose to the surface. His face was calm and still like stone. He shook his head and body around for a few rounds, drying off the dripping water.
He breathed in a deep breath, and as soon as his chest sunk down once more he closed his eyes entering his mindscape.
A massive blank white space encompassed the world around Malcolm. A few meters in front of him there stood a replica of Malcolm wearing the same black robe. However the difference was that this replica held a slight smile on his face while Malcolm's could stand in for a portrait.
"Hey, we need to talk." The pathieite tilted its head slightly before responding.
"Uhh... sure. What about exactly?"
"This pact you and me made. Remind me of everything we agreed on." Malcolm took a seat in a criss-cross posture while the pathieite mimicked the motion.
"Well fine if you insist. The pact we made is simple really. We were both gonna die regardless if one of us killed or possessed the other. You would've died from your grievous wounds and I have a feeling I would've died from the explosion of that crazy art you made.
Only by coming together with each laying bare their worth for survival. You with the protection of this energy and me with making a newer and better body."
"You think I don't know that shit by now? Tell me somethin' I don't know little nigga."
"You really have to explain what that word means, but fine I'll elaborate.
What needs to be understood dear brother is that pathieites and humans by nature are incompatible, or should be incompatible. Since we need humans as hosts to propagate and grow stronger. This is already a massive hindrance to any blood pact relations between each group."
"Ok yeah? And?!" Malcolm waved an arm with a growing impatience.
"Well more or less what you and me did was by all means impossible. And this process was augmented further by this mysterious energy you have. Resulting in the two of us now being inseparable. Meaning if I die or am extracted from your body you die, or if your body is completely destroyed beyond repair then I die. You get the point.
Along with this comes the actual mysticism process, and that I'm still figuring out myself. However from what I've observed so far this body of ours is as powerful as a peak second realm practitioner by human metrics. Keep in mind though brother this is only in terms of physical prowess since there is the massive disadvantage of-"
"Yeah-yeah lemme guess, having no spiritual core meaning that I can't cast any arts that I could've learnt. Right?"
The pathieite looked at Malcolm with a deadpan expression before sighing deeply.
"Yes... that is the case. However I believe this can be made up for in two ways. First this 'cosmic' energy you have seems to be capable of making the impossible possible. Maybe once you gain better control over it you can create more arts. The second is you learning our method of energy manipulation."
"What you mean? Like how y'all were able to switch around the colors of yo' shit?"
"By colors you mean the elements I presume. Then yes, since you are now closer to a spirit then a human, you should be able to learn innate arts."
Malcolm's mind flashed back to the conversation with the leopard. A glint of light lit up in his pupils.
"Oh shit, alright then. That's what's up. And then once I pick up a few of these innate arts, unless someone can drain away all the energy in a given area we good."
"Precisely. We already have the physical prowess of a peak second realm expert. Along with enhanced senses that exceed anyone in that realm. On top of this there's one more positive you haven't processed yet. Can you tell me what that is? You just felt it a few minutes ago."
Malcolm put a hand to his chin and thought deeply until he yelled.
"Oh shit! My dick got bigger, hahaha!" Malcolm's eyes sparkled with bright stars as he laughed at his own crude joke a little too hard for it to be genuine.
The pathieite meanwhile assumed Malcolm's original stony expression and shook its head in immense disappointment.
"I-I was not thinking of, that positive dear brother. You really need to get that girl out of your skull."
Malcolm's eyes narrowed into a dagger shape at that comment.
"How'd you know I was thinking 'bout Yara? So reading my thoughts is another addition to our blood pact huh?"
The pathieite slapped itself in the face while it fell to its back. It closed its eyes with a look of defeat before speaking.
"Yes."
Malcolm tilted his head slightly while his mouth opened slightly. He scrunched his eyes tightly at the lifelike replica sitting in front of him.
"Good to know." He said with a dark edge to his voice.