At first he''d been apprehensive to even touch the meat again — not knowing if it was hiding any sorts of alien parasites or magical substances that his feeble human body simply couldn''t handle.


    However, he’d realized that he could potentially reignite the embers that were still sitting there from the table.


    With a quick Analysis, he''d been pleasantly surprised.


    Dragonfire


    The flames of the Emerald Dragons are imbued with their unyielding will and immeasurable potential for growth. This instance is but a pale shadow, but it is still formidable compared to its mundane counterpart.


    It reignited as soon as he fed it some kindling, and the flame was truly magical — bright, pleasant green, and without a hint of smoke.


    He''d been worried about suffocating himself to death if he left a fire going, but he figured that if the fumes were enough to kill him, they probably would have done so when the table had first burnt down. And if anything, the fumes that the flame released felt like that of a pleasant scented candle. It smelled like encouragement and a promise of better times — not at all what he’d expect from the attack of a raging dragon.


    Of course, the fire had encouraged him to cook, and so as his stomach grumbled for something more than fruit, he''d cautiously torn off a piece of duneclaw flesh and made a skewer to put over the flame.


    His Analysis had expanded its description after that, and it hinted that the meat should have been safe to eat. He started with very small amounts — just a nibble, then a bite, and then a finger-sized portion. It tasted bitter and astringent, but it was food.


    As he felt no consequences, he began to consume more and more. He had to be careful to preserve his limited stockpile of furniture and wood, but that proved fine as the embers seemed nearly impossible to extinguish and luminescent enough to let him see through his dark-adapted eyes. He only really fed the fire to cook, and he tried to cook the meat in the biggest batches he could without giving himself heatstroke — anything more raised the temperature of the poorly-ventilated cave far too quickly. But once the meat was cooked, he could expect it to last.


    The duneclaw''s acidic and quick-drying blood seemed to have preserved the meat in some way, and he remembered from his Analysis that the Reamans could stockpile duneclaw meat for years in their cellars without it going bad.


    He was sure that it wouldn''t last quite that long, but he would trust his nose and taste buds for now. With the meat, he could also begin training his physical body.


    On the opposite side of the cave wall from the carvings detailing the Reamans’ spiritual techniques, there was another set of carvings showing forms of their people, practicing something akin to a martial art.


    He realized that some of the physical stances were meant to be paired with the spiritual stances, and as he pondered them, he turned to his Analysis for more information.


    Rather than the carvings forming an inverted pyramid, it was a regular pyramid. Most techniques were at the base, with only one at the top: a depiction of a horned man with a thousand arms and legs swirling around him. He didn''t understand if he was supposed to grow more limbs or if that was symbolic, but at least the bottom exercises felt more reasonable.


    His Analysis identified them as bone-strengthening exercises, and they involved repeatedly slamming your limbs into hard surfaces to build density and resilience within them.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Of course, his own limbs were fairly fragile, but with the enhancement running through him, he managed to try it out a couple of times. It hurt, of course, but everything hurt these days. His limbs were actually doing pretty well despite the pain — even his injured leg was feeling mostly normal again.


    When he began doing the exercises, he soon discovered that with each blow, an abnormal amount of Resilience would pool in his soul.


    It made sense, once he thought about it. His actions throughout the entire day were Resonating with Resilience, but it was these exercises — the pain, the fortitude, the perseverance despite the inflammation — that really embodied it within him. Perhaps his condition was actually benefiting him, for once. A greater harmony was being reached as he pushed his body to the very limit.


    The second layer of the pyramid was also a variety of exercises, but these seemed more like stances — martial arts forms for the physical half of The Art of the Sandstorm. He struggled a bit to walk through these, his newfound dexterity from the Flowing Sands the only thing keeping him from completely flubbing them. But by the end of the week, he''d at least gotten semi-comfortable with the basics.


    He would set out duneclaw-sized tables and chairs in a circle around his cave, and then he would train against them with his new weapons — the detached tail claw of the juvenile he’d defeated, and a long, sturdy branch that he’d sharpened against the cave walls into a makeshift spear. He practiced thrusting, cutting, and throwing against them a thousand different ways, feeling the twitch of his muscles become faster and faster as the habits gradually sank into his body.


    And then, once he thought he understood the theory behind it, he would refer to his Analysis of the duneclaws, adapting his imaginary battles with the way that the creatures instinctually fought.


    He listened to his body as he moved, feeling how when he struck a certain way his spear came down harder, or when he stepped with a slight twist, it allowed him to more easily transfer his motion into his next move. The Aspect of Resilience seemed to boost his learning, too, and he found that his muscle memory and instinctive reflexes adapted faster than he’d ever hoped they could.


    He practiced until he could slash an imaginary duneclaw between the eyes while jumping backwards to evade another, and drilled his rock throwing until he could consistently hit his targets from thirty feet away. His legs grew nimbler over the scattered branches and pebbles he used to simulate the outside ground, and his calloused skin rarely broke anymore no matter how much he abused his feet.


    Every evening he would sit around the pile of embers soaked in sweat, and with at least a couple of new bumps and bruises to show for his mistakes. His inflammation would come back with a vengeance the moment his sore limbs cooled down from the exercise, and he knew that even despite the constant training his forms were barely up to par with what was expected from a Reaman fifth grader.


    Still, for just a month’s worth of effort, he couldn’t have imagined a better result.


    Now, he just had to see if all the hardship was worth it.


    Tyler finished off his last piece of duneclaw, washing it down with a sip of coconut water and the flesh of a wrinkled passionfruit. That was the last of his food. Now, he had no more excuses.


    He walked over to the entrance of the cave, the Flowing Sands singing steadily within his veins. His limbs felt good. Solid, and less inflamed despite his nightly date with a bed of hard twigs and leaves. He clenched his fists, and they felt more powerful than they had in years.


    It was now or never.


    Drumming up the Flowing Sands to a higher speed, he swirled his entire core, letting the mana become a mini-vortex inside of him as it suffused his body with power. He set his feet, placing his hands against the log at an angle that should maximize his leverage.


    He counted himself down, heart hammering in his chest.


    Three. Two. One.


    Scraaaape.


    Slowly, the thin beams of moonlight began to widen as they hit his face. A sky of brilliant stars enveloped his vision, and fresh, salty air flooded his lungs with a crispness that he hadn’t tasted in weeks.


    He furiously grinned, straining his arms and legs as he heaved for one final push.


    Whump.


    The log fell over with an unceremonious thud.


    Immediately, he could hear chittering in the distance.


    Tyler took a deep breath, retrieving the weapons he had placed next to the cave entrance. He was free. He was finally free.


    Now, it was time to hunt.