ã€ŠThe Fractured Pathã€‹


 1 - A Bloody Start

    Anthony pressed his back against the trunk of the tree. The branches, thick with light green needles, shielded him from view, while a heavy coat of mud, spread hastily across his skin, masked his scent. The pine needles, and the bit of wet dirt, were the only things keeping the boy alive, as the gigantic fiend, just a few meters away, pinned his mother¡¯s brutalized body to the ground.

    Morbidly fat with pale leathery skin that glistened from the thick layer of oily filth covering it, the ogre stood no less than twenty feet tall. The flesh on its arms stretched taut from the incredible mass of muscle and fat packed tightly underneath, leaving stretch marks as wide as Anthony¡¯s legs criss-crossing its ugly exterior.

    The woman wheezed, struggling to breathe, as the unbearable weight caused blood to bubble out from her mouth and drip down her chin. The creature¡¯s grin widened, revealing its rotten teeth as it shifted more of its weight onto her.

    His mother¡¯s blood-shot eyes searched for him even while she was being tortured. A trembling finger rising to her lips as she used the last moments of her life to urge the boy to stay quiet. Anthony clamped his hands tightly over his mouth to stop himself from crying out, lines of moisture carving muddy tracks down his face as his tear soaked eyes stared in horror at the unfolding tragedy.

    She tried to scream, but all the air had been pressed from her lungs. With one final pitiless crunch of its inhuman foot, the woman''s small ribcage gave way to the unbearable pressure, sending a thick surge of blood and flesh across the forest floor.

    ¡°NOOOO!!!¡±

    Anthony reached out toward her, screaming with all his might, but as he did, the brightly lit forest around him was suddenly replaced by the dreary darkness of his bedroom, as his childish voice deepened into one of a much older boy. His hand grasped at nothing as his sweat-soaked eyelids sprang the rest of the way open.

    BANG! BANG! BANG!

    ¡°Shut the hell up in there!¡±

    The muffled voice sounded through the wall as Anthony¡¯s gaze darted around, the terror slowly clearing from his face. He looked toward the wall separating him from his stepfather¡¯s room, then buried his face in his hands as his shoulders trembled. Clenching his fists, he took a few deep breaths before rising from the bed and quickly pulling his ragged clothes over his well built frame. Walking outside the small cabin, he put up one arm to block the bright rays of morning sun as he leaned over the barrel of rain water by the front door.

    The face reflected in the water was no longer that of the small child who had helplessly watched his mother¡¯s brutal murder. Anthony was almost a man now¡ªsixteen years old, nearly six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a well-defined physique.

    He splashed water across his face and took a deep breath before dropping to the ground with his arms stretched out in front of him. Anthony had learned long ago that physical pain was the best cure for mental anguish.

    Over the next forty five minutes, he completed his morning workout routine: 100 push-ups, 150 sit-ups, 100 squats with a heavy rock over each shoulder, and a light jog to the river and back.

    He wiped the sweat from his body with a piece of dirty clothing, then grabbed a relatively clean top to pull over his body. Taking an apple from the table, a light breakfast for the journey to town ahead of him, he slowly approached the tightly locked door to his stepfather¡¯s bedroom.

    Anthony raised his hand to knock, but his knuckles paused just shy of the old wood. His gaze fell to the ground as his jaw clenched tightly for a few seconds before he let out a quiet breath. Shaking his head slowly, he turned away from the door without saying a word.

    As he stepped through the cabin¡¯s threshold, the bedroom door swung open, revealing his stepfather, a short man with heavy black bags beneath each eye. The man had clearly been up late gambling away what little money he had left once again.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°Where do you think you¡¯re going? I told you, you can¡¯t join the mercenaries! I don¡¯t care if you¡¯re sixteen, dammit! You¡¯re going to end up crushed under the boot of some monster like your¡ª¡±

    CRASH!

    The man¡¯s eyes widened as the apple smashed into the wall just inches from his head, spraying pieces of apple and juice down the side of his face. The man looked back up as he wiped the fruit away, just in time to see Anthony¡¯s figure sprinting down the long dirt lane toward town.

    ¡°Get back here! Anthony!¡±

    Today was Anthony¡¯s sixteenth birthday. He was finally old enough to join the small mercenary team that came to his village twice a year to take on missions. There was no army this deep in the mountains, so his only path to martial strength was to become a hunter or throw his lot in with Edgar¡¯s team of sellswords.

    The hunters were strong in their own right, but their focus was on supplying the village with a stable supply of meat, not on honing martial power. For Anthony, that path was a dead end. Even all the hunters in the village combined would struggle to kill an ogre, especially one as freakishly large as the one he sought to slay.

    Anthony didn¡¯t head straight to the village. First, he needed to visit his grandmother¡ªthe only other relative he had left. She lived with a group of women who sewed clothing for a small fee and harvested wild vegetables to make ends meet, ten old widows crammed together in a single tiny shack.

    As he jogged towards the building, he saw smoke rising from the chimney. Closer still, he noticed a modest sized elderly woman sitting on a block of wood near the front door. The resemblance she bore to his deceased mother was striking, and it was the reason he avoided spending as much time with her as she deserved.

    He felt ashamed of himself for being so weak. Just looking at his grandmother¡¯s face made him feel like a helpless child again, waiting for certain death with nothing but pine needles for protection.

    This is probably the last time you¡¯ll see her, Anthony. Don¡¯t be a coward.

    He scolded himself as he walked forward, guilt spreading through his chest when he saw the eager smile lighting up her face.

    ¡°Come here, boy! Let me wrap these old arms around you.¡±

    The woman ushered him forward, placing her thin, wrinkled arms around his broad shoulders and squeezing him tight.

    ¡°I know you have bad spirits inside you,¡± she said softly beside his ear as she held him tightly, ¡°but I still can¡¯t help but ask you once more: won¡¯t you stay? I don¡¯t have many years left in this world. You wouldn¡¯t have to wait very long; once I¡¯m gone you can do as you please.¡±

    Anthony felt the thick calluses covering her palms as she took his hands in her own after releasing him from her embrace. He couldn¡¯t bear to look into the hopeful expression filling her face at the moment, instead glancing down toward her hands as he responded.

    ¡°I have to do this, Nana. Please don¡¯t try to stop me anymore. Every day I stay here feels worse than the last. Like I¡¯m betraying myself and the people around me by not doing what I know I have to. Whatever hope I had inside me of living a peaceful life was killed¡ªright alongside my mother.¡±

    A hint of moisture glistened in the old woman¡¯s eyes, but she quickly shook her head and rose to her feet, patting Anthony on the arm as she gestured toward a large wooden chest beside her.

    She fumbled with the latch for a few moments before finally managing to lift the lid, revealing a dull shortsword with rust around the grip, a sheath attached to a belt, and a piece of worn leather armor.

    She pursed her lips at the eager look on Anthony¡¯s face and pointed toward the equipment with her wrinkled hand.

    ¡°Hmph. I could¡¯ve sold all this junk and bought myself enough food to fill my belly for half a year.¡±

    Her bitter expression softened as she looked up at the sky, the moisture returning to her foggy eyes.

    ¡°Your grandfather knew this day would come. The moment those hunters brought you back from the mountains, he knew. When the pneumonia had nearly taken him, he made me promise not to sell these things after he died. I told him to hush up and rest, but he called my name in a tone like I¡¯d never heard from him before. He said he¡¯d never forgive me if I didn¡¯t listen.¡±

    Anthony picked up the leather armor, running his hands across its many scrapes and lacerations¡ªthe only lingering traces of adventures long past. He pulled the armor over his head, tying the leather straps tightly on both sides before looping the sheath around his waist.

    He drew the old sword, holding it out in front of him as the morning sun glinted off the blade. It bore almost as many nicks as the armor, but with some sharpening and a little loving care, it would be a reliable companion once again.

    ¡°Thank you, Nana. I¡¯m sorry I haven¡¯t been a better grandson. I¡¯ll send back some money once I finish my first job.¡±

    The old woman gave him another long hug, sighing deeply as she let him go for the last time.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that, boy. Just keep yourself safe. I can¡¯t bear to lose another one to an early death.¡±

 2 - Mercenary

    Anthony practiced swinging the sword a few times as he walked down the long mountain path toward the town. The blade felt good in his hand, but it would need oil and a thorough scrubbing to remove the rust.

    He had held a sword on a few occasions, but only briefly and never in actual combat. The closest he had ever come to a fight was chasing off a goblin with a few arrows after it wandered too close to his family¡¯s property.

    The name of this place was Whitestone, named after the mountains surrounding it. As he arrived at the edge of the town, the first people he saw were farmers already hard at work, carting their goods toward the market to make their sales for the day. Anthony, however, was headed to the opposite side of town.

    He knew where to find the mercenaries. They had arrived late last night, without time to start their first contract. They would likely be preparing to head into the mountains, probably at the inn. Anthony made his way to the west side of Whitestone, soon reaching his destination.

    Pushing open the door to one of the only multi-story buildings in town, Anthony stepped into the inn''s lobby. He immediately caught sight of Edgar. The older man must have just finished his breakfast; he was leaning back in his chair, stuffing a long pipe with some brown shredded tobacco.

    The man was old but sharp. He had positioned himself to see both entrances of the building and glanced at Anthony as soon as he walked in.

    Edgar wore a full set of dark leather armor. The leather was clean and smooth, almost shining even in the dimly lit interior of the inn. A longsword in its sheath rested on the table beside his empty plate.

    Seated next to Edgar was a young woman, not much older than Anthony. She carried a pair of daggers at her waist and a shortbow over her back. Her apparent age was deceiving; the long ears partially hidden by her hood revealed she was not entirely as she seemed.

    Their third companion wasn¡¯t at the table, but the large shield leaning against the remaining chair suggested he was nearby. Anthony spotted the man with his hands propped against the bar counter a few meters away, a bright smile on his youthful face as he whispered something to the young woman behind the counter, who quickly covered her reddening cheeks and rushed away.

    The tall young man clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he walked back toward his companions, sparing Anthony a casual glance as he crossed the room. Anthony took a deep breath to gather his courage and approached the table, stopping to stand across from Edgar as he rushed to begin speaking.

    ¡°Edgar. I turned sixt¡ª¡±

    A single finger rose into the air from the older man, cutting Anthony off mid-sentence. Edgar casually bit his pipe, giving it a few hard puffs as the hooded woman leaned toward him, placing the tip of her dagger inside the head of the pipe. The dagger¡¯s tip glowed a deep red, and smoke began to curl from Edgar¡¯s mouth as he exhaled, filling the room with the pungent smell of the tobacco flavoring.

    ¡°Thank you, Belle.¡±

    Edgar leaned back in his chair once more, finally looking up at Anthony as a small grin tugged at the corner of his grizzled face. The finely trimmed hair on his chin was almost entirely gray.

    ¡°Edgar. I turned sixteen today. Won¡¯t you keep your word and let me follow you?¡±

    Edgar¡¯s grin widened, exposing his off-white teeth as he glanced back down at his pipe, resting one hand across his full stomach. Clear signs of satisfaction showing on his face with each puff.

    ¡°Follow me? No. Wearing your grandfather¡¯s armor doesn¡¯t make you a fighter fit to join my team.¡±

    Anthony¡¯s eyes widened, clenching his hands as a desperate feeling began to well up in his chest.

    ¡°But¡ª¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    He quickly suppressed his instinctive reaction, narrowing his eyes as he caught the meaning of the toothy grin staring back at him from Edgar¡¯s face. The old man took another slow puff of his pipe, savoring Anthony¡¯s reaction for a few more seconds before relenting.

    ¡°You¡¯ll come with us back to Highwarden. Belle¡¯s granddaughter just joined the troop¡ªshe needs a team. You¡¯ll be under Elara, and you two will be responsible for recruiting any additional members you require.¡±

    Anthony¡¯s jaw and hands clenched tightly as he shut his eyes, managing only a swift nod in response as he quickly wiped his sleeve across his eyes. The agonizing period of inaction that had defined the last ten years of his life was finally over. Relief swept over him so strongly that he had to fight to keep his emotions in check and avoid making a bad impression on his new boss.

    The hooded woman raised one slim, perfectly shaped eyebrow high as she observed Anthony¡¯s response, speaking her thoughts aloud.

    ¡°What is this reaction? Why is the boy so overcome with emotion? You don¡¯t pay that well, Edgar.¡±

    The third member of the group was sitting with his chair flipped backward, his chin resting on his arms, which were crossed over the backrest as he looked up at Anthony with furrowed brows.

    ¡°Yeah, what gives? Elara needs strong companions she can count on, not crybabies she¡¯ll have to¡ª¡±

    Edgar rapped his thick, heavily scarred knuckles against the sturdy wooden table. His grin tightened into a thin line, as his face fell into a solemn expression. The shield-bearer immediately clamped his mouth shut, sitting up straight in his chair as he caught the look on Edgar¡¯s face.

    ¡°Garren¡­¡±

    Garren stood up, swiftly flipping his chair back around the right way before standing at attention facing Edgar.

    ¡°Yes-sir.¡±

    Edgar gave a slight nod to the younger man, signalling that he could sit, as he stared down at the table in front of him. The older man tapped one fist lightly against the wood, considering his next words.

    ¡°You remember the Redhill battle? Your father¡¯s team was part of the mercenaries hired to fill the duke''s ranks that day.¡±

    Garren¡¯s brows furrowed slightly as he considered Edgar¡¯s words.

    ¡°I¡­ Yes, I remember.¡±

    Belle glanced at Edgar curiously, moving her eyes slowly back toward Anthony as she spoke.

    ¡°How is that related to this boy? He would have barely been off his mothers milk at that time.¡±

    Edgar sighed at his companion¡¯s choice of words, gently closing his eyes and taking another slow puff of his pipe before continuing.

    ¡°How did that battle end?¡±

    Garren rubbed his chin for a moment, his gaze drifting to the ceiling as he replied.

    ¡°The duke¡¯s forces won the day. The beast horde was routed, dispersed, and chased into the mountains.¡±

    Edgar nodded as he asked his next question.

    ¡°What mountains were the remnants of the horde chased into?¡±

    Garren shook his head, unable to come up with an answer as he looked toward Belle for help. Belle touched a delicate finger to her lips, considering for a moment.

    ¡°It was the Whitestone Mountain Range, if I am not mistaken. That would be¡­¡± She moved her finger away from her lips, pointing it down at the table as she spoke her final word with a sudden understanding, ¡°Here!¡±

    Anthony¡¯s chest began to rise and fall more quickly as he listened to the conversation. The story being told was one he knew all too well, but that familiarity didn¡¯t make it any less dreadful to his ears.

    Edgar gestured toward Anthony as he concluded his explanation.

    ¡°Young Anthony lost someone precious to him that day. He has made it his solemn mission to become strong enough to slay the creature that took so much from him.¡±

    Belle looked Anthony up and down with newfound appreciation, her curiosity evident as she questioned him, ¡°Is that true, Anthony? Do you need strength for your revenge?¡±

    Anthony met her pale blue eyes, which stared at him from beneath the thin hood of her cloak. Strands of light blonde hair, almost white, framed her slim, feminine face.

    ¡°Yes. I want to kill the Ogre that murdered my mother, but that¡¯s not the only reason I need strength. I want to be strong enough to stop such things from happening to others. I will do whatever it takes to achieve this goal. That is why I need to join you.¡±

    Garren¡¯s eyes widened slightly at Anthony¡¯s answer. He let out a slow whistle before responding.

    ¡°An Ogre, huh? You¡¯ve got a long road ahead of you if that kind of strength is your goal, kid.¡±

    Anthony nodded, acknowledging the truth in Garren¡¯s words.

    ¡°I know that! I don¡¯t care if it takes my whole life. I will achieve this power, or I will die trying.¡±

 3 - The Fractured Path

    ¡°Belle, Garren, finish our preparations for the mission. I¡¯m going to get Anthony set up so he can begin his training while we¡¯re gone.¡±

    Anthony¡¯s eyebrows furrowed as he glanced down across the table at Edgar.

    ¡°You¡¯re not taking me with you?¡±

    Edgar flipped his pipe over, tapping it firmly against the table to empty out the ash before sliding it into his pocket. After carefully securing the buttons over the pocket he patted the outside gently with his open palm. When he was satisfied that the pipe was well secured he looked up at Anthony, shaking his head as he casually gestured toward the young man.

    ¡°Bring a novice along on a warg hunt? I think not.¡±

    Edgar rose to his feet, taking a good look at Anthony as he rubbed his fingers across the grey hairs on his chin. Turning away he headed toward the stairs, raising one hand to motion for Anthony to follow.

    ¡°Come with me boy.¡±

    Anthony followed Edgar out of the lobby, up the stairs, and through the locked door of Edgar¡¯s lodgings. The mercenary leader stepped up to a large backpack and unstrapped the top flap. As he began removing items, he peered into the depths of the bag while he spoke.

    ¡°Anthony¡­ are you aware of the reason you weren¡¯t permitted to join our troop until your sixteenth birthday?¡±

    Anthony¡¯s eyes narrowed as he slowly shook his head.

    ¡°I just assumed that someone so young would be of no use to you.¡±

    Edgar shrugged as he pulled out a thick stack of journals from the bottom of the oversized bag.

    ¡°Not exactly. The real reason is that before the age of sixteen your body hasn¡¯t absorbed enough latent mana to begin physical cultivation. If you were magically gifted you might have been taken in by some noble house before that age to begin training in the magical arts, but that¡¯s not your path.¡±

    Anthony¡¯s eyes widened slightly as a distant look spread across his face.

    ¡°I see¡­ so all my frustration over wasted time was misguided. I wish I had known sooner.¡±

    Edgar shook his head as he began laying out the journals on the bed for Anthony to see.

    ¡°No one is going to give you any details about cultivation before you¡¯ve joined them, so you couldn¡¯t have known.¡±

    He gestured to the three journals on the left side, their bindings clean and unbroken, looking relatively new.

    ¡°These are three decent physical cultivation methods with very few requirements to start. Almost anyone could use these to begin growing their power. This one uses strong physical defense as the foundation for growth, while the other two focus more on offensive strength. The green one emphasizes ranged attacks and agility.¡±

    Edgar pushed the three journals forward for Anthony to examine, then lifted the last journal to display it as he continued.

    ¡°This¡­ is something I¡¯ve been holding onto for a long time. It cannot be used by most people; the requirements are too strict. This method creates a focus in your mind that empowers your will, vastly increasing the speed at which your body absorbs mana and generating much more potent effects than the others.¡±

    Anthony¡¯s attention was drawn away instantly from the cultivation methods in his hands, his eyes locking onto the item that Edgar displayed. The final journal was so ancient that it was already on the verge of being destroyed by the passage of time. He reached out to accept it, but Edgar pulled back, raising his voice as he spoke in a much more strict tone.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Hold on, boy. There¡¯s a catch. This is a desperate cultivation method. It requires a traumatic memory to serve as the nexus of your training. The stronger the trauma, the greater the potential growth. Most of these journals have been destroyed. They were once used by a sadistic sorceress to empower her slaves. The way she went about ¡®gifting¡¯ them with traumatic memories to fulfill the requirements is too terrible a tale to recount. But the captain of her slaves became too powerful to control, breaking free of his mental bindings and slaying his own mistress. Unfortunately, the dark magic used to enslave the man, combined with the side effects of this cultivation technique had severely warped his mind, turning him into a beast of slaughter. He began to destroy the surrounding city, killing thousands. Eventually, five high elfen magi were organised to put him down, two of them dying in the ensuing battle.¡±

    Anthony wore a stern expression as he nodded firmly, turning over the palm of his outstretched hand, waiting to accept the journal. Edgar let out a deep sigh as he placed the dilapidated item in Anthony¡¯s hand.

    ¡°If you use this method, you must keep it secret. Many people consider this training style evil in and of itself. I disagree. It¡¯s just a tool like any other, to be used for good or ill. Read the whole thing before you start. You need to be fully aware of what you¡¯re signing up for.¡±

    Edgar led Anthony back out of the room, locking the door behind him before turning to face the young man. Reaching into the pouch at the front of his leggings, Edgar pulled out a silver coin and flicked it over to Anthony.

    ¡°That¡¯s a loan. I¡¯ll expect repayment out of your first mission rewards. You¡¯ll need to visit the apothecary and purchase the required starting materials for whichever method you choose. We¡¯ll find you in a few days once we¡¯ve cleared out the den of wargs. Show those journals to no one. Go. Get to work. Grow strong enough to be of aid to Elara.¡±

    Anthony looked down at the shiny silver coin in his hand, running his fingers over the smooth surface. He glanced up at Edgar, his expression a mixture of shock and gratitude. Nodding firmly, he gave his thanks briefly before rushing away, jumping past steps as he raced down the stairs and out of the building.

    Anthony held the silver coin tightly in his clenched fist, hugging the journals against his chest like precious treasures, as he rushed through the small town. It didn¡¯t take long for him to arrive at his chosen destination. He slowed down as he approached the large apple tree beside the church graveyard. From here he could see the small plot of land that held an empty casket, buried beneath the stone that bore his mother¡¯s name.

    Sitting down cross-legged, Anthony took a few deep breaths to settle himself, staring up at the lush green foliage above. The bark on one of the lower limbs of the tree showed two worn handholds, a result of the thousands of pull-ups he had completed in this spot over the years.

    Glancing down at the journals in his hands, Anthony placed the first three to the side without a second glance, focusing his attention on the badly worn leather book in his grasp.

    ¡°The frac¡­tured p-path?¡±

    He read the words on the cover aloud, struggling with the heavily worn lettering. Thankfully, when he flipped open the front cover, he found that the writing inside was in much better condition. Anthony carefully turned to the first page and began to read.

    [The Fractured Path is a technique designed to make whole what was broken, binding the damaged soul anew. When done correctly, users will gain a potential much greater than what they previously possessed¡­]

    For the next three hours, Anthony didn¡¯t move an inch from his seated position, completely enchanted by the words before him. The sound of singing drifted over from the nearby church, the pleasant vocals adding to his hypnotic focus as he blazed through page after page. Above him, the sun rose high into the sky.

    When lunchtime had nearly passed, Anthony finally turned the last page of the journal. Taking a deep breath, he flipped the back cover forward to close the book as he leaned back against the tree trunk and began to process the information he had consumed.

    As Anthony was deep in thought, a pang of hunger ran through his stomach. Rising to his feet, he reached up through the low branches above and pulled an apple from the tree. The fruit nearly reached his teeth when his eyes widened, recalling that fasting was crucial for the first step of cultivating The Fractured Path.

    Stuffing the apple into his pocket, Anthony flipped back to the early pages, scanning for the detailed instructions on the ingredients and preparation method for the potion he would need. Quickly committing them to memory, he stepped away from the apple tree, pausing a short distance away to look back at the gravestones.

    Straightening his posture, Anthony pressed his lips into a thin line, a steady voice filled with resolve soon issuing forth from the young man.

    ¡°Mom¡­ I¡¯ll be leaving Whitestone very soon. The time has finally come. I know you would probably tell me to stay here with Nana, but I can¡¯t do that. I¡¯ll return to visit her someday, I promise. Goodbye¡­ I love you mom.¡±

    Anthony quickly turned away before the old familiar emotions could finish rising up inside of him, he made his way out of the churchyard, rushing down the small hillside toward the main road.

    It was time to get stronger.

 4 - Pom The Apothecary

    The apothecary shop was run by a young, bookish woman named Pom, her long red hair wrapped in a perfect braid running down her thin back. She pushed her glasses up her nose as she looked up at Anthony, not pausing in her work as she continued cutting and weighing stacks of herbs, carefully portioning out one serving at a time.

    ¡°Welcome, I¡¯ll be with you in just a m¡ª Oh¡­ Anthony.¡±

    Pom set down her scissors, her eyes flicking to the stack of journals tucked under his left arm. Anthony crossed his arms over his chest, concealing the items from view as he stepped forward.

    ¡°Hey, Pom. I need these things.¡±

    Anthony pulled a napkin from his pocket. A list of crude scribblings ran down the front of the cloth, which he quickly passed to Pom. She glanced at it with narrowed eyes, then spread it out on the counter to read it aloud.

    ¡°Two grams Saint Agnes bloom, one gram ginkgo leaf¡­ Q-Quill spider venom sac?!¡±

    Pom looked up at Anthony, her large brown eyes locking onto his as she continued.

    ¡°What is this potion you¡¯re making? I know you turned sixteen today and plan to join Edgar¡¯s troop, but this doesn¡¯t look like any cultivation potion I¡¯ve seen before. Are you sure you copied it down correctly? Quill spider venom can cause permanent paralysis if not properly neutralized¡ªdid you know that? This is a difficult potion, not something for a novice to attempt. Who¡¯s going to make it for you?¡±

    Anthony scratched the back of his head as the flurry of questions from Pom rained down on him, shrugging his shoulders as he responded.

    ¡°Uh¡­ I was planning to do it myself.¡±

    Pom¡¯s eyes widened for a moment before she crossed her arms over her chest, pursing her lips and shaking her head firmly.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean, no? You can¡¯t say no!¡±

    Pom turned back to her work, picking up the scissors and resuming her portioning of herbs.

    ¡°I can, and I just did. If you go and paralyze yourself, everyone will think my family¡¯s shop sold you the wrong ingredients. Every time they see you, it will reflect poorly on us. So, the answer is no.¡±

    She extended her slender arm across the counter, pushing the napkin back toward Anthony as she shook her head. Anthony reached out, grabbing her hand before she could let go. He pushed in the opposite direction, sliding both her hand and the napkin back toward her side of the counter.

    Pom¡¯s eyelids shot open as she stared at the large hand grasping her own, a pink hue rising to her cheeks.

    Anthony didn¡¯t seem to notice the reaction he had evoked in the young woman. He released Pom¡¯s hand and clasped his own together in front of his chest in a pleading posture.

    ¡°I need to do this, Pom. If you think it¡¯s not safe for me to make it myself, then help me! If I have to find an actual expert potion maker, I won¡¯t finish in time before Edgar¡¯s mission is over, and I barely have enough silver to cover the ingredients.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Pom pulled her hand back from the table, covering her cheeks with both hands as she looked at Anthony. Her big brown eyes blinked rapidly a few times before she cleared her throat and regained her composure, brushing off the front of her apron as she straightened her clothes.

    She stared at Anthony for a long moment before pursing her lips and holding out her open palm toward him. Anthony glanced at her hand with uncertainty, only for Pom to shove her hand forward further as she pointed at it with one finger.

    ¡°Silver¡­¡±

    Anthony¡¯s eyes widened in realization. He quickly fumbled in his pocket for a silver coin, rushing to place it in Pom¡¯s hand. She inspected the coin closely, tapping it on the counter a few times before touching it to a magnet beside the money drawer.

    With a nod of approval, Pom opened the drawer and dropped the silver coin inside before heading toward the back of the store. Anthony scratched his chin as he stared at the money drawer, then glanced up at Pom¡¯s retreating figure.

    ¡°What about my change?¡±

    Pom froze mid-step, glancing back at him with a scowl.

    ¡°Do you want your potion or your change? Pick one.¡±

    Anthony raised his hands in a gesture of acceptance, nodding firmly.

    ¡°The potion. Definitely the potion, please.¡±

    Pom pursed her lips and stuck out her chin before turning back toward the back room. Anthony waited patiently as she gathered the materials, placing everything on the counter before him.

    He watched in fascination as Pom expertly prepared the ingredients. Using a mortar and pestle, she crushed a small piece of chalk-like material, setting it to the side. Then, she pulled out a glass container holding a large red spider with needle-like yellow quills running down both sides of its bulging abdomen.

    Pom donned a pair of thick leather gloves, pinning the spider down with one hand as she jabbed a long needle into its skull. The creature¡¯s legs twitched a few times before curling up toward its belly.

    Laying the insect¡¯s corpse on a piece of white parchment, Pom carefully split the body open with a razor blade. Using a tiny spoon, she gently lifted a purple sac from inside the body, meticulously cutting the surrounding tissue to release it without puncturing the sac. Finally, she placed the spoon holding the sac on the white parchment and let out a heavy breath of air.

    Pom looked up at Anthony with a prideful grin on her pretty face.

    ¡°Count your blessings¡ªthe hardest part is over. You better not forget who helped you when you needed it.¡±

    Anthony nodded hurriedly as he continued to observe Pom¡¯s actions. The rest of the process involved sprinkling the powdered material over the venom sac and heating it until it was completely dried out. Pom then crushed the remnants in the mortar and pestle.

    She added all the ingredients to a tiny cloth sack, tied it up tightly, and placed it in a bowl. Pouring boiling water over the sack, she stirred and lifted it up and down in the water as a bitter smell filled the room. The liquid turned an inky dark purple as she continued her work.

    After a few minutes, Pom squeezed the sack over the bowl, laying the scrunched-up cloth aside. She cautiously poured the remaining liquid into a glass vial, sealed it with a cork, and placed it on the counter in front of Anthony.

    ¡°There it is. I don¡¯t know what kind of method you are using to start your training, but be careful. Those are some serious ingredients in that potion of yours.¡±

    He lifted the vial slowly, his eyes fixed on the swirling purple contents. A grin spread across his face as he clenched his fist in joy while Pom cleaned up the counter.

    ¡°Thank you, Pom! I won¡¯t forget this! You¡¯re a friend to me forever!¡±

    Pom looked up in startled surprise as Anthony stepped behind the counter, rushing toward her with his arms outstretched. She took two small steps back, raising her hands in protest.

    ¡°No, no! That¡¯s¡ª¡±

    Before she could finish, Anthony wrapped his arms around her and lifted her into the air, squeezing her tightly in a big hug. He planted a quick kiss on her cheek, then set her down just as quickly. Without waiting for a response, he rushed out of the store, waving goodbye with one hand while clutching his belongings with the other.

    Pom stood behind the counter in a daze, her glasses hanging askew on her face as she watched him disappear down the street. Slowly raising one hand, she stared ahead, unblinking.

    ¡°Uhhh. R-Right. Goodb¡ªGoodbye.¡±

 5 - The Potion

    As Anthony rushed down the dirt road away from the apothecary, three men dressed in ragged clothing stepped out from the shadowy alleyway beside the building. If Anthony had seen them, he would have recognized them as the group of drunks who did odd jobs around town to fund their bad habits.

    The men appeared to have only recently awoken, the largest and fattest of the three rubbing his puffy eyes as he questioned his companions.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on? We got a job or something?¡±

    The shortest of the trio, who was comically thin compared to his fat companion, gestured toward Anthony¡¯s receding figure and spoke in a hushed tone.

    ¡°Anthony just pulled a whole silver out of his pocket to pay for a potion in Pom¡¯s shop. I saw it with my own two eyes, from right outside the window!¡±

    As the thin man finished his sentence, he couldn¡¯t help but raise his voice in excitement, earning himself a sharp elbow in the ribs from the final man standing beside him.

    ¡°Shut your trap! You wanna tell the whole world what we¡¯re up to?¡±

    The third man, who seemed to be the makeshift leader of the group, was of average height and build. It was evident that the other two men looked to him for direction.

    ¡°Ahh! Not so hard, Bo! You¡¯re gonna break my ribs, and then I ain¡¯t helpin¡¯ you with nothin¡¯!¡±

    While his skinny companion was rubbing his sore ribs, the fat man¡¯s eyes went wide at the mention of the silver coin, but a moment later he began scratching his head as he stared off in no apparent direction.

    ¡°But, Bo... if he already spent the silver, don¡¯t that mean he ain¡¯t got it for us to steal no more?¡±

    A heavy scowl spread across Bo¡¯s face as he reached up and rapped his knuckles against his fat companion¡¯s forehead several times in rapid succession.

    ¡°If he got his hands on one, there¡¯s prolly more! Anthony just turned sixteen. Everybody knows he¡¯s gonna join the merks. I bet he got a sign-up bonus from Edgar! Besides, even if he don¡¯t got more... that potion¡¯s plenty worth takin¡¯!¡±

    The fat man rubbed his tender forehead with a wronged expression, but that look was quickly replaced by one of greed as he heard Bo¡¯s explanation, and began nodding his head eagerly as he responded.

    ¡°Alright, Bo! What do we do?¡±

    Bo rubbed his chin for a moment as he stared down the road in the direction that Anthony had disappeared. A toothy grin spread across his face, revealing the two rows of broken, rotting teeth behind his lips.

    ¡°Follow ¡®im. We can¡¯t do nothin¡¯ ¡®til he¡¯s outta town.¡±

    <hr>

    Anthony stepped into a quiet alleyway and pulled out The Fractured Path, quickly double-checking the instructions for beginning the cultivation method.

    ¡°Right¡­ I need to get to a quiet place where there¡¯s plenty of privacy, somewhere I won¡¯t be disturbed. Only one place around here that fits that description.¡±

    Tucking the worn journal under his arm, Anthony grasped the potion tightly in his hand and set off running once again. He was heading toward the outskirts of town, where an old farmhouse sat abandoned after the family who owned it disappeared mysteriously.

    Everyone in town said the place was cursed, and no one was willing to buy it. That suited Anthony just fine; he liked to go to the old farmhouse to hide from his stepfather when he was younger, or more recently to train on days when the weather was too harsh to stay outdoors for long.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    It took Anthony around twenty minutes of running to reach the farmhouse. As it came into view, he noticed the wide hole in the thatched roof, which had been steadily growing larger over the past year. He had once attempted to patch it up, but Anthony was no craftsman, and all his efforts had only made the hole worse, so he gave up and left it alone after that.

    Stepping into the musty air of the farmhouse, Anthony grabbed a small stool, wiping off the dust before placing it in the center of the room. Sitting down, he opened his cultivation journal once again to the early pages.

    [Willpower is the basis for the control of all mana, but it is very difficult to maintain a high level of will during long stretches of cultivation, making most cultivation methods incredibly inefficient. Instead, this method allows you to bind a traumatic memory, which is a powerful aid in arousing will. It will allow you to transform the mental energy generated by that trauma into the will required for the cultivation process. This greatly increases the cultivation speed and potential of cultivators.

    In a quiet place, sit with your eyes closed and focus on the memory you have chosen. The memory will be empowered by the effects of the potion; you must fight your instincts in order to help direct the potion¡¯s power in order to create a proper nexus point. It is vitally important to undertake this process in solitude, or with a powerful guardian, as the potion¡¯s initial effects can lead to outbursts of rage-fueled violence¡­]

    Anthony read the wrinkled page of instructions three times to ensure he wasn¡¯t missing anything. Satisfied, he gave a firm nod, set the journal on the table beside him, took a few deep breaths to gather his courage, and poured the potion down his throat.

    The taste was shockingly bitter, causing him to gag and nearly vomit. He clamped both hands over his mouth, forcing himself to swallow again and again until the last drops slid down his throat.

    Once he got it all down Anthony gasped for air, taking quick, shallow breaths as sweat formed on his forehead. Thankfully the initial wave of nausea quickly passed, and he was able to refocus his mind, following the instructions he had memorized.

    Anthony closed his eyes as he allowed his mind to drift back in time, travelling deep into the Whitestone Mountains, to arrive at the last place he had seen his mother alive.

    The memory was vividly clear in his mind, down to small details like the bloody crust on the ogre¡¯s massive fingernails. Anthony looked around the scene at thick green foliage of the pine trees, the sun glaring down from a cloudless sky above. He could still hear the melody of the birds and insects all around him in the mountains, creating an ambiance that did not fit with the tragic events of the memory.

    For a few moments, the scene played out as it had thousands of times before in his mind. But after a few minutes, Anthony felt a burning sensation spreading from his stomach, growing stronger as a powerful dizziness began to overtake him.

    The next thing he knew, he had forgotten where he was¡ªor even who he was. All that remained in his mind was the image of a terrible monster murdering a small woman. For some reason he could not recall, the scene he was watching filled Anthony with a searing anger that felt like molten stone coursing through his veins.

    <hr>

    ¡°Hurry up, dammit!¡±

    ¡°It ain¡¯t my fault, Bo! Anthony¡¯s just too quick, an¡¯ Ham¡¯s slower than a dead cat! A fat, dead cat!¡±

    HUFF... WHEEZE... HUFF

    The fat man was struggling to run up the mountain trail behind them, though calling it "running" might have been generous. He was moving slower than most people walked, with rivers of sweat streaming down his red cheeks. A look of pure agony flashed across the fat man''s face with each lumbering step forward he took.

    ¡°J-jus¡¯ go on ahead! I c¡ªI can¡¯t run no more!¡±

    Bo¡¯s anger grew with every sluggish step his companion took. Finally, his frustration boiled over. Stepping off the path, he reached into the foliage at the side of the dirt trail and snapped off a long, thin switch of a branch.

    Breaking off the smaller stems, Bo whipped the branch through the air, producing a whooshing sound as it whistled back and forth. His furious expression twisted into a wicked smile as he rushed to get behind his slow companion.

    WHOOSH... CRACK

    ¡°AHHHH! BO! STOP! N¡ªAHHH!¡±

    Bo lashed his fat companion¡¯s back with the branch, he swung the branch so hard that each strike left bright red welts across the heavy man¡¯s wide back. His cruel method seemed to achieve his goal, spurring the larger man into motion, as his torturously slow shuffle up the hill transformed into a brisk jog almost instantly.

    Like this, the three would-be thieves finally reached the abandoned farmhouse where they suspected Anthony had gone. Bo gave his men a moment to catch their breath while he pulled a long dagger from under his shirt. His evil grin returned as he gestured toward the building.

    ¡°You two, follow me now. Get ready to grab him if he tries runnin¡¯.¡±

    The pained look faded from the fat man¡¯s face as he rubbed his greasy hands together, following behind Bo and his shorter companion as the three of them approached the home.

 6 - An Unlikely Start

    [The difficulty of the initial nexus creation process can be determined by the relative power of the traumatic memory, with deeper traumas being much more difficult to overcome. The more difficult the process, however, the greater the potential benefit. Much relies on the ability of the cultivator to break through his initial rush of emotion in order to complete the binding process. Unfortunately, some trauma can be so overwhelming as to be insurmountable, causing cultivators to become trapped in the horrors of their own minds¡­ forever. -Excerpt, The Fractured Path]

    Anthony had misjudged the difficulty of binding a traumatic memory, especially one as central to his current personality as the one he was attempting. As the potion took effect, the young man¡¯s grasp on reality was instantly ripped from him, spiraling down into the depths of confusion and rage.

    His eyes took on the appearance of marbles crafted from blood, while trails of red carved tiny rivers down through the dust that covered his cheeks. He began to scramble awkwardly around the dirty floor of the farmhouse, attacking the air and breaking the already dilapidated furniture, primitive angry hissing escaping his mouth every few seconds.

    In Anthony¡¯s vision, the image of a hated foe tormented the young man, but every time he attempted to strike at the creature, it easily evaded him, only enraging Anthony further. How could such a fat thing move so quickly? Stay still and die! he tried to shout the words aloud, but all that came from his mouth was a strange, guttural shriek. His confusion was growing, and he had lost the ability to understand that if he was unable to overcome his rage, and focus on the instructions of the cultivation process, he would very likely lose his mind.

    Suddenly, the monster in his vision disappeared at the same moment the door swung open to his left. Anthony turned toward the noise, a horrifying scowl spread across his bloody face. His expression morphed into a crazed excitement, a hoarse scream escaping his lips as he saw his opponent once again.

    The giant ogre had somehow gotten outside the farmhouse. The crafty beast had found a dagger¡ªand split itself into three smaller versions.

    No matter! Come and face your doom, foul thing!

    <hr>

    A few seconds earlier, as Bo stood outside the farmhouse door, he listened carefully to the strange noises coming from inside. Grunting sounds and the slamming of wooden objects against flesh could be heard, even over the strong wind flowing through the area. Narrowing his eyes, Bo pressed one ear against the door before a grin slowly crept across his face.

    ¡°Must be trainin¡¯! Good! That¡¯ll mean he''ll be tired out. On three!¡±

    Bo raised a single finger as he began to count down.

    ¡°One¡­¡±

    ¡°Two¡­¡±

    ¡°Three!¡±

    Bo shoved the heavy wooden door open with all his might, doing his best to appear menacing as he waved his cheap dagger in the air before him. But before he could register what was happening inside, Anthony¡¯s body came flying through the air toward him.

    Something was wrong with the young man¡ªhis eyes were a deep red, and blood was flowing out of them like tears. The horrifying sight of Anthony¡¯s bloody face, scowling angrily as it hurtled toward him, caused Bo to panic. He raised his knife into the air to defend himself, stumbling backward and crashing into his two companions as they tried to follow him inside.

    ¡°What the hell¡ªAHHHH!¡±

    Anthony crashed into Bo at full force, grabbing the blade of the knife with his bare hand as he tackled the unsuspecting man to the ground. Blood began to flow from the new laceration on Anthony¡¯s hand as he bit down with all his might on Bo¡¯s knife-wielding hand.

    Bo''s two companions stood with blank stares, failing to respond in time. Just as the two rushed forward Anthony stood up, one of Bo¡¯s fingers clenched in his teeth while the bloodied dagger he had snatched away was held in his left hand.

    The two underlings went wide-eyed at the horrific scene. Their ears filled with the sound of their boss screaming in pain as he rolled across the ground, grasping his bloody hand and scrambling to escape.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Run!¡±

    Anthony raised the dagger high as he dashed toward the fleeing men, choosing the slowest and most ogre-like of the pair as his target, as he rushed forward to slay his hated enemy.

    The fat man lumbered down the mountain in terror, but Anthony easily caught up to him. Raising the dagger, he swung it down, leaving a deep laceration across the thick layer of fat on the man¡¯s back.

    ¡°AUGHH!¡±

    The rotund thief stumbled forward, a searing pain spreading across his flabby back. Tripping over a thick root, the heavy thief began to roll down the mountain path, picking up speed like a snowball tumbling downhill.

    <hr>

    As he struck down the ogre with his dagger, the red hue in Anthony¡¯s eyes faded slightly. The victory over the physical manifestation of his enemy released enough emotion for his consciousness to retake control.

    He looked down at his bloody hands in shock, realizing something had gone wrong, but there was no time to dwell on it. Immediately, he sat cross-legged on the spot and began following the instructions for binding the memory.

    Anthony closed his eyes and visualized a deep abyss in his mind, one capable of consuming all things. As he focused on his chosen memory, the abyss began to pull on it. The memory, however, was so heavy and deeply embedded that the process was agonizingly slow. Fortunately, as the edges of the heavy memory began to be pulled in, the powerful emotional effect it was having on him started to be siphoned away.

    Over the next hour, Anthony summoned every ounce of willpower to combat the overwhelming rage within him. The emotions surged like waves, crashing over his mind and threatening to send him back into a blind rage, destroying his efforts and threatening his sanity. Yet, the longer he persisted, the weaker the difficulty became.

    After two hours, Anthony felt a change. The black abyss he had visualized began to spin on its own, no longer requiring his constant willpower to sustain it. Its inky color transformed into a radiant, star-like object glowing brilliantly in his mind.

    Almost immediately, the remaining redness cleared from his eyes. His emotions stabilized soon after, no longer teetering on the edge of chaos, and a soothing warmth filled his body as he concentrated on the spinning star.

    A barely visible golden glow emanated softly from his skin as the warmth bathed his entire body. The sensation was so comforting that Anthony wished he could stay like that forever. However, cultivating would have to wait. With the most dangerous portion completed, he needed to find out what had happened while he was under the influence of the potion.

    Opening his eyes, Anthony stood just in time to see a group of guards rushing up the mountain, Bo and his two companions trailing behind them. Bo stared at Anthony, his face twisted with rage as he clasped his bandaged hand, red with blood.

    Bo pointed at Anthony, shouting with a voice that cracked as he screamed his accusation.

    ¡°There he is! That monster attacked us for no reason! He bit my finger off like an animal. You need to kill him to put a stop to his rampage!¡±

    The captain of the guards, a man named Christoff, shook his head dismissively at Bo''s words as he stepped forward. Anthony knew Christoff well, he was around five years older than Anthony, and his father had been one of the hunters that brought Anthony back from the mountains after his mothers death. Christoff wasn¡¯t a particularly bright young man, but he cared deeply about upholding the law, so he was well liked around town.

    As Christoff finished climbing the mountain trail, his gaze fell on Anthony¡¯s blood-covered face and hands.

    ¡°What happened here, Anthony? Bo claims you assaulted him without cause. I find that hard to believe. I¡¯d like to hear your side."

    Christoff maintained a few steps distance, his eyes narrowing as he observed the confused expression on Anthony''s face.

    "So¡­ speak. What happened here?¡±

    Anthony¡¯s eyes widened as he listened to Christoff¡¯s questions. His mind raced as he glanced down at Bo and his two underlings, who flinched back the moment they saw his eyes landing on them.

    Anthony gritted his teeth as he looked down at his own hands, the dagger still clenched in his fist., while a human finger lay on the ground right beside him.

    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know.¡±

    Christoff raised an eyebrow, shaking his head as he stepped forward and grabbed Anthony by the arm.

    ¡°Drop the weapon!"

    Anthony did not resist, releasing the dagger as Christoff pulled his arms behind his back.

    "I did not expect you to lie to me, Anthony. Maybe some time in a cell will jog your memory.¡±

    Standing beside him, Christoff leaned close to Anthony¡¯s ear, speaking in a hushed tone.

    ¡°If you don¡¯t come up with an explanation, we¡¯ll have only Bo¡¯s word to go on. You¡¯d better think hard and remember what happened.¡±

    Anthony turned his head back toward the farmhouse anxiously as he listened to Christoff¡¯s warning, shifting nervously from side to side as he responded.

    "Wait! Please. Let me keep my books, they belong to Edgar, they cannot leave my side!"

    Christoff nodded as he led Anthony into the farmhouse, grabbing the journals and tucking them into Anthony''s waist band. Anthony let out a deep sigh as the precious items were safely returned to his person, before allowing Christoff to lead him back out and down the mountain trail.

 7 - Thanks For The Shirt

    Tink¡­ Tink¡­ Tink¡­

    A young boy was resting in the cell alongside Anthony, lying his small back against the cold stone wall, the boy casually tapped his wooden spoon against the bars of the cell. His name was Malcolm, and he was a regular guest here due to his penchant for harassing girls, in addition to the occasional act of thievery.

    Anthony sat quietly with his legs crossed, The Fractured Path spread open on his lap as he focused on the instructions detailing the initial cultivation process, once the difficult step of creating the willpower nexus was achieved.

    Malcolm lazily rolled his head in Anthony¡¯s direction, continuing to smack his spoon against the bars. When he noticed Anthony had taken out a book to read, Malcolm¡¯s eyes narrowed, and he began hitting the bars more forcefully with each swing of his wrist.

    tink¡­ tinkk¡­ TINK¡­ TINKK¡­

    When Anthony didn¡¯t so much as glance up in his direction, a frown spread across Malcolm¡¯s face. Standing up, the boy stepped toward him, with his small chin pointed up arrogantly, he gestured at the journal with his spoon.

    ¡°Watcha readin¡¯? Why don¡¯tcha read it out loud? I like storybooks too, ya know! Any pictures in there?¡±

    He gazed down at Anthony expectantly as he stared at the journal in the young man''s hands. When Malcolm still didn¡¯t receive a response, his frown twisted into a sneer. He pretended to relent as he walked over to the bucket of water, scooping out a ladleful as he returned to Anthony.

    ¡°Whoops!¡±

    Malcolm stepped forward, tossing the ladle¡¯s contents toward the journal in Anthony¡¯s hands. What happened next didn¡¯t follow the script Malcolm had imagined in his immature mind.

    Instead of his cellmate looking up dumbly as the water ruined his book, Malcolm watched in shock as Anthony moved with incredible agility, easily evading the liquid sailing through the air as he rose to his feet.

    ¡°W-wha¡ªAh! L-Let go!¡±

    Malcolm stood frozen, his mouth agape. In one fluid motion, Anthony sidestepped the water and grabbed Malcolm¡¯s ear, shoving him toward the spill.

    ¡°Clean it up.¡±

    Malcolm¡¯s eyebrows furrowed as he stumbled forward, glancing back at Anthony with a face full of resentment while rubbing his aching ear.

    ¡°B-But! I got no rag!¡±

    Anthony headed toward the opposite side of the cell, flipping his journal open once more.

    ¡°Use your shirt.¡±

    Malcolm¡¯s eyes widened at the suggestion. Scrunching up his nose, he crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head.

    Peeking out of the corner of his eye to gauge Anthony¡¯s reaction, Malcolm flinched when he caught the look on Anthony¡¯s face.

    A few minutes later, Malcolm sat in the corner, shivering, as the entire bucket of drinking water had somehow ended up on his head.

    Anthony ignored Malcolm¡¯s accusatory glare as he set his journal down between his crossed legs, closing his eyes and resting his two gently closed fists on his lap, one on each knee.

    Focusing on the swirling star-like object in his mind, Anthony began to feel the familiar warmth spreading through his body. His task was to direct that warmth, circulating it through his limbs one at a time.

    At first, it was difficult. The energy was entirely new to Anthony, and controlling it felt like learning to walk for the first time. Nevertheless, he gradually developed the capability.

    If someone could see the energy flowing inside his body at that moment, they would witness a constant whirlpool swirling around and within his head. A small stream of energy branched off from that whirlpool, flowing into the rest of his body.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Through his meditation, Anthony created an artificial circulatory system. As the energy coursed through his body, small amounts were absorbed by the flesh and muscles it passed through, leading to short-term improvements in strength and durability.

    Over much longer periods and with additional specialized training, this energy could be used to develop wondrous skills and abilities. Belle, the elf on Edgar¡¯s team, had demonstrated one such ability when she lit Edgar¡¯s pipe with the tip of her blade.

    Anthony, however, would need access to more knowledge before he could begin learning such advanced techniques. The journals he currently possessed focused almost exclusively on developing and strengthening the energy within the body as the foundation for those abilities.

    He continued this process in silence for hours. Since his own body had never had access to such freely available energy before, it absorbed the flowing power like a dry sponge, greedily soaking up as much as it could. Whenever his flesh did eventually become saturated, he would need to begin additional techniques and training to enhance his body¡¯s energy capacity.

    Malcolm looked up expectantly as the dark cell began to glow with a soft golden light. At first, he thought one of the guards had opened the door to the outside. But when he realized the light was emanating from Anthony¡¯s skin, his mouth fell open, and he jumped up from his seat.

    Anthony could sense that something was about to happen. The energy pouring into his flesh for the past hour had finally begun to slow, and a golden glow started radiating from his skin¡ªvisible even with his eyes closed.

    A few seconds later, the energy dwindled to a trickle before stopping entirely, and the golden light grew brighter and brighter. Malcolm, forgetting his earlier dissatisfaction with Anthony, stepped forward in wonder at the strange occurrence. Inch by inch, he moved closer, curious to see what would happen next.

    As the glowing light reached its peak, Anthony felt an itchy tingling spread across the surface of his skin. The sensation quickly turned to pain, and then to an intense burning.

    Gritting his teeth, Anthony fought to endure the pain, refusing to relent before the process was completed. The burning grew more and more severe until he could barely stop himself from crying out.

    Thankfully, the bright golden glow suddenly began to fade as little blotches of inky blackness seeped out from beneath Anthony¡¯s skin.

    ¡°Gah! Eww!¡±

    Malcolm retreated to the far corner of the cell, squinting his watery eyes and pressing both hands over his mouth and nose. A stench, worse than anything he had ever smelled, flooded the room as the tar-like substance oozed from Anthony.

    The golden light continued to fade, replaced by more of the foul-smelling goo. Anthony sat gasping for breath, relief washing over his face as he tilted his head back and exhaled deeply, grateful to be free of the excruciating pain.

    When he finally inhaled through his nose, he began gagging. Opening his eyes, he looked down at his own skin.

    ¡°W-what? But... isn¡¯t it too soon?¡±

    Malcolm watched in disgusted horror as Anthony rose from the ground, not quite able to make out the muttering coming from the young man''s lips, something about how this wasn¡¯t supposed to happen yet.

    Anthony walked toward where the water bucket had once been, desperate to clean the filth from his body. Only then did he recall the incident that had occurred earlier with Malcolm.

    Malcolm began to slowly retreat as Anthony¡¯s gaze fell on him, the much older boy¡¯s eyes narrowing as he looked down at the wet clothing clinging to Malcolm¡¯s body. Realizing what was about to happen, Malcolm pressed his back against the wall, a rapid fire series of words escaping from his mouth..

    ¡°No, no, no, no, no! P-please! I¡¯m sorry!¡±

    A few moments later, Malcolm sat shivering in the corner once again, this time bare-chested, staring sadly at the scrunched-up ball of wet cloth that had once been his shirt. The ruined garment was now covered top to bottom in disgusting black filth that would be nearly impossible to clean.

    He glared at Anthony with a deep frown, wiping the moisture from his eyes.

    Meanwhile, Anthony leaned against the stone wall, feeling better than he had at any point in his life. His skin looked pristine and smooth, without a single blemish. Even his hair appeared more healthy.

    Clenching a fist, he felt the power in the muscles of his arm, every indication was telling him that he had grown much stronger. Anthony was eager to get out of here so he could train, and discover how much this initial breakthrough had actually improved his physical abilities.

    Glancing casually at the pouting figure of Malcolm, Anthony allowed a small smirk to tug at the corner of his mouth as he teased the boy.

    ¡°Keep those pants nice and clean for me. I might need them next.¡±

    A look of pure horror spread across Malcolm¡¯s face as he glanced down at his only remaining piece of clothing, fresh tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.

    <hr>

    Unbeknownst to Anthony, a hooded figure had been leaning against the stonewall of the prison, directly outside of his cell. This figure had remained there, nearly motionless, for the entire time period that Anthony was inside.

    But the moment that the golden glow surrounded Anthony during his training, the shoulders of the figure began to tremble. Finally moving for the first time, the figure rose off the wall in great haste, dashing away down the dirt road.

 8 - Did I Do It?

    The door to the prison opened as Christoff led two people into the room. One was a middle-aged woman whose clothing exposed her as someone from the upper classes, while the other was Anthony¡¯s stepfather.

    The woman immediately rushed up to the bars when she saw the scene inside, covering her mouth with one well-manicured hand.

    ¡°Christoff! What have you ruffians done to my poor Malcolm?¡±

    Christoff furrowed his brow, glancing back and forth between Malcolm and Anthony. Eventually, he shook his head and stepped forward to unlock the cell, his nostrils flaring as the awful smell wafted toward him.

    ¡°He looks fine to me¡ªjust a bit cold is all. I¡¯m more concerned about the smell. Did someone wipe their backside with that shirt?¡±

    Malcolm jumped to his feet the moment he saw his mother, rushing toward her with his arms outstretched as he began complaining about his unjust treatment. As he hurried toward her a wet, filth-covered shirt sailed through the air from the cell, splattering onto the ground near the woman¡¯s feet.

    ¡°Don¡¯t forget your shirt.¡±

    The woman covered her nose as she picked up the garment with the tips of her fingers, shaking her head as she tried to put it back down. When Christoff saw her attempting to leave it behind, he quickly spoke up.

    ¡°You¡¯re taking that with you, or Malcolm can stay here with his shirt.¡±

    The woman¡¯s face turned beet red as she stomped her foot against the ground, glaring at Christoff while Malcolm tugged on her clothing.

    ¡°Mom! Just take it¡ªI want to go home!¡±

    The woman looked down at Malcolm with a face like she was looking at a helpless infant, then gave another angry glare to Christoff.

    ¡°Hmph!¡±

    With that final display of displeasure, the woman rushed out of the room, her arm stretched out to its limit, holding the disgusting clothing as far from her person as possible.

    As the door closed behind her and Malcolm, a look of relief spread across Anthony¡¯s face, grateful to finally be free from the source of the awful smell. However, he quickly masked his expression, adopting a stern demeanor as he turned his gaze to the angry face of his stepfather, who stood just outside the cell.

    The man stepped forward with a sneer, the corner of his mouth twisting into a mocking grin. He tilted his head upward, looking down his nose at Anthony, and jabbed a finger toward the young man¡¯s face.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t take you long to screw up, just like I knew you would. You thought you were some great hero? Looks like you¡¯re just a common crook, huh?¡±

    The self-satisfied grin on his face began to fade into a scowl as he failed to elicit the reaction he wanted. Anthony sat quietly, letting the words pass over him without effect. Growing more frustrated, the man grabbed the bars and pressed his face as close to them as he could.

    ¡°Confess your crimes! That way, you¡¯ll get off light with five years of hard labor. I already talked to the councilor¡ªthey¡¯re willing to go easy on you since it¡¯s your first offense. Even though you tore off an innocent man¡¯s finger like some sort of savage beast!¡±

    Anthony gritted his teeth, his eyes drifting down to the hard stone floor of the cell. He still had no memory of the events that had occurred earlier while he was under the influence of the potion.

    Did I really hurt an innocent man?

    As he thought about the faces of the men who had accused him, a voice deep inside urged him not to give in, whispering that the truth of the matter had yet to be revealed. Slowly, he clenched his fingers into fists as he contemplated his next move.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    I cannot admit to any wrongdoing¡­ Five years of labor may as well be a death sentence for me. I wouldn¡¯t survive even one more year of hellish inaction.

    Anthony took a deep breath and released his clenched muscles, raising his head to meet his stepfather¡¯s stare.

    ¡°This has nothing to do with you. Go home. Unless you¡¯re going to use the money my mother left for me to pay my bail.¡±

    The man slowly released the bars of the cell and stepped back, the anger on his face giving way to poorly concealed disgust as he looked down at Anthony.

    ¡°Why on earth would I do that? So you can run away like the criminal you are? You know¡­ If they do hang you, I guess that money goes to me, doesn''t it?¡±

    Straightening his clothing with a smile, he turned away and stepped through the doorway, leaving Anthony alone with Christoff.

    The young guard stepped forward casually, glancing at Anthony. His eyes lingered briefly on the cultivation journal lying between Anthony¡¯s legs before he spoke.

    ¡°How are you planning on getting yourself out of this mess, Anthony? There are three men all telling the same story¡ªthat you attacked like a crazed animal for no good reason. I know they¡¯re hiding something. When I asked them what they were doing at the old abandoned farmhouse in the first place, they all went silent.¡±

    Christoff crouched down, leveling his gaze with Anthony¡¯s as he rubbed his clean-shaven chin.

    ¡°Can you truly remember nothing? If Bo and his crew of scoundrels were up to no good, as I suspect, it would go a long way toward explaining the conflict between you.¡±

    Anthony let out a long sigh and shook his head.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been trying. I can¡¯t recall a thing. From a few moments after I swallowed the potion until the moment I saw you walking up the mountain, it¡¯s all just a blur of colors and emotions. I don¡¯t think there¡¯s much hope I¡¯ll remember anytime soon.¡±

    Christoff nodded as he rose to his feet, clicking his tongue regretfully as he headed toward the door. Just as he was about to leave, he paused, glancing back at the journal on Anthony¡¯s lap one last time.

    ¡°Everyone knows unorthodox cultivation methods can be exceedingly dangerous. Did a well-regarded veteran like Edgar really expect a kid like you to undertake such a thing on your own? I wonder...¡±

    As Christoff finished speaking he shrugged his shoulders before leaving the room, Anthony was left alone once more, his stomach twisting with anxious tension. The dread of his possible conviction and the uncertainty about the future were torturous, especially while he was trapped in a cage with nothing but his thoughts for company.

    Anthony began to do what he always did to calm his mind: train. Pressing against the cold stone floor, he pushed his perfectly straight body up and down, doing push-ups in rapid succession. Yet the resistance, which should have strained his muscles, felt like less than half of what it had been before he started his cultivation.

    It wasn¡¯t until he had completed over a hundred push-ups that he began to feel the pain in his muscles he was craving, but even then, it wasn¡¯t enough. This wasn¡¯t sufficient to strain his muscles the way he needed to grow stronger.

    Anthony glanced around the room, taking in the stone walls, the empty bucket, and finally the iron bars at the front of the cell. His eyes narrowed slightly as his attention remained on the bars.

    ¡°That will work.¡±

    Stepping forward, Anthony placed his hands on the bars and pulled hard, finally encountering some real resistance. He began training in thirty-second bursts, pulling with all his strength for half a minute at a time before allowing his muscles to rest briefly.

    The sound of creaking metal echoed through the building as the young man put constant strain on the thick iron bars.

    <hr>

    At The Jolly Farmer, a small pub near the inn, Bo sat at a table with an ugly grimace on his face, his bandaged hand resting on the wood in front of him. The terrible pain from his torn-off finger kept him in constant misery.

    The man tilted a beer to his mouth, greedily swallowing the entire cup before gasping for breath and slamming the empty wooden mug down on the table.

    ¡°Ah! Ow, ow, ow!¡±

    The vibration from the impact sent a wave of agony through his injured hand. Bo¡¯s two companions looked enviously at the empty cup. The barkeep had given Bo the beer partly out of sympathy for his lost finger and partly just to shut him up, as his constant moaning was irritating the paying customers.

    As Bo finished the free beer, he looked up with anger and began cradling his injured hand like a fragile infant.

    ¡°The bastard! I won¡¯t give in until they hang ¡¯im, I swear it!¡±

    Bo continued to complain loudly, ranting about the joy he would feel on the day he saw Anthony¡¯s lifeless body hanging from a rope. Neither Bo nor his two companions noticed the hooded figure quietly keeping tabs on them from nearby.

 9 - Red

    After two hours of vigorous exercise, Anthony finally exhausted himself enough to overcome the anxiety about the future that had been plaguing him since his arrest. Now, he lay on the hard stone floor, the temperature of the cool stone soothing his overheated body.

    Creeeeaaaak

    The old wooden door outside the cells slowly swung open. Anthony turned his gaze toward the noise, his eyes narrowing as he spotted a short, hooded figure standing in the doorway.

    Pushing himself up from the ground, Anthony rose into a sitting position, his attention fixed on the visitor.

    ¡°Where is Christoff? Who let you in here?¡±

    The hooded figure stepped forward, stopping just outside Anthony¡¯s cell. Slowly, they reached up to lift the hood, revealing a face Anthony had never seen before.

    It was a female with jet-black hair that was short enough to leave her pointed ears exposed. Her smooth, dark red skin was unblemished, contrasting starkly against the thick black lips that fit well on her youthful face. Half-lidded, striking yellow eyes regarded Anthony lazily, while her tight leather armor emphasized the prominent curves beneath it.

    Anthony stood, towering over the much shorter girl, who gazed up at him with a halfhearted smile. Her thick lips parted to reveal two rows of pearly white teeth. Yet, something about her seemed off. Every movement she made exuded reluctance, as if being here was an unwelcome obligation.

    ¡°Hi, Anthony¡­ you seem to have gotten yourself into some trouble. How unfortunate.¡±

    Her voice was pleasant and feminine, but it carried the same lackadaisical tone as her demeanor, as if she¡¯d rather be anywhere else.

    ¡°Who are you? What do you want from me?¡±

    The girl seemed to be caught unprepared by his question, her eyes rolling back and forth across the room a few times as she gently tapped one finger on her chin. The lazy tone of her voice was replaced by one of slight hesitation as she responded.

    ¡°Oh, right. Uh¡­ Me. I am¡­ R-Red! My name is Red. Of course! Why wouldn¡¯t it be?¡±

    Anthony¡¯s eyes narrowed further, suspicion etched into his expression. He spread his hands in a questioning gesture, shaking his head as he replied.

    ¡°Okay¡­ What are you doing here, ¡®Red¡¯? I think I¡¯d remember meeting someone as¡­ Ahem.¡±

    His gaze betrayed him, flickering down to the girl¡¯s armor, which accentuated her slender waist and curvaceous thighs. Forcing his eyes to quickly return toward the striking yellow pupils staring up at him, Anthony scratched the back of his head as he cleared his throat.

    It was the girl¡¯s turn to narrow her eyes now, her stance shifting as she leaned to one side, placing her hands on her hips. Her voice was sharp as she challenged him.

    ¡°¡®Someone so¡¯ what? Finish your sentence.¡±

    Anthony raised his brows, shaking his head slowly as he shrugged.

    ¡°You know what I meant¡­ Someone so¡­ Pretty, I guess?¡±

    Anthony could have sworn Red''s already crimson skin turned a shade deeper as she listened to his response, her lazy eyelids snapping wide open as she glanced down at her own body.

    ¡°W-What? Me?¡±

    Leaning to one side, Red ran a delicate hand across her stomach, her gaze lingering on herself for a moment before she realized what she was doing and quickly shook her head. Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked back at him with pursed lips.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    ¡°S-Stop distracting me! Shouldn¡¯t you be thinking about more serious matters? Like the fact that there¡¯s a good chance you¡¯ll be hanged for the crimes you¡¯re charged with?¡±

    Anthony shrugged casually, gesturing toward her casually as he responded.

    ¡°You asked¡­ Anyway, what do my crimes have to do with you? You still haven¡¯t explained why you¡¯re here.¡±

    Red nodded firmly, her expression turning serious as she locked eyes with him and began to speak.

    ¡°R-Right! My name is Red. I represent a mercenary company that has some business conflicts with the troop Edgar runs.¡±

    She stepped forward, placing her hands on her hips and raising her dainty chin as she continued.

    ¡°Lucky for you, I was tasked with keeping an eye on Edgar¡¯s team, so I¡¯ve had a front-row seat to everything that¡¯s happened over the past twenty-four hours.¡±

    Anthony listened carefully, but the moment she mentioned representing a rival company, his interest seemed to wane. Turning away from her, he stepped back to sit down in his cell.

    ¡°That has nothing to do with me. I barely even joined Edgar¡¯s team, and now I might get kicked out because of how badly I messed up during my initial cultivation.¡±

    Red flared her nostrils at his dismissive tone, her brows furrowing deeply as she grabbed the bars in front of her with one hand.

    ¡°When I said I saw everything that happened, I meant everything. Including what exactly occurred at a certain abandoned farmhouse at the edge of town.¡±

    That caught Anthony¡¯s attention. His eyes widened as he sprang to his feet, rushing to the bars and placing his hands over hers in a pleading gesture.

    ¡°Really?! You have to tell me everything! If you can explain what really happened, I might have a chance of getting out of this!¡±

    Red stumbled back a few steps, hastily shaking the young man¡¯s hands off her own.

    ¡°S-Stop that! I¡¯m not some saint you can beg for favors! I¡¯m a mercenary. If you want something from me, you need to pay for it¡ªplain and simple.¡±

    Anthony¡¯s shoulders slumped the moment the word pay escaped Red¡¯s lips. His demeanor deflated as he sat back down, rubbing his hands over his eyes.

    ¡°I have no money. If that¡¯s what you came here looking for, you might as well leave.¡±

    A wicked grin spread across Red¡¯s face as she stepped closer to the bars, looking down at Anthony while twirling a strand of her neck length black hair between her fingers.

    ¡°Who said anything about money? There are other ways to pay, and you happen to be in a position to give me just what I need.¡±

    Anthony glanced up at her, a look of realization dawning on his face. His eyes flicked down toward Red¡¯s body briefly before he quickly shook his head.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I¡¯m not looking for a girlfriend right now. I really need to focus on my training, you know?¡±

    All emotion drained from Red¡¯s face as she stared down at Anthony, utterly unamused.

    ¡°Are you stupid or something?¡±

    Anthony¡¯s eyes shot open, the color draining from his face as he scrambled to respond.

    ¡°T-That¡¯s not what you meant? S-Sorry! It¡¯s just¡­ I don¡¯t have anything to offer, so I thought that was the only thing left!¡±

    Red rolled her eyes, shaking her head in exasperation.

    ¡°There is something you can offer me.¡±

    She leaned closer to the bars, her voice dropping to a hushed tone as she glanced around cautiously.

    ¡°Edgar¡¯s team made a big mistake by giving such a cursed cultivation technique to a newbie. That¡¯s a huge no-no. None of this is your fault, Anthony.¡±

    Anthony¡¯s uncertain gaze rose to meet hers. ¡°It¡¯s not?¡±

    Red shook her head swiftly. ¡°Of course not! How could you have known what would happen? It was Edgar¡¯s responsibility to ensure nothing went wrong when he gave you that technique.¡±

    Anthony lowered his head, staring down at the floor between his knees.

    ¡°What do you want me to do?¡±

    A wicked smile crept across Red¡¯s face as she shrugged playfully.

    ¡°If you were to tell the council that Edgar misled you, making the risks of that cultivation technique seem much smaller than they really were, I¡¯d be willing to back you up. I could explain to the counsel how you¡¯re really just another victim in this whole affair. It¡¯s Edgar who should be locked up for negligence¡ªnot you, Anthony!¡±

    Anthony let out a deep sigh, burying his face in his hands as he heard Red¡¯s proposal. He didn¡¯t respond for a long time, leaving the girl to wait patiently for an answer on the other side of the bars.

 10 - He Passed

    Red waited patiently as Anthony paced back and forth within his small cell for the better part of a half hour, but after that, the girl began to lose her patience. With a frustrated sigh, she stepped in front of the bars, her hands pressing down on her hips as she stared at Anthony.

    ¡°What seems to be the problem, Anthony? You don¡¯t owe those mercenaries anything. In fact, they owe you! How could they leave you all on your own to do something so dangerous?¡±

    Anthony glanced toward Red from the corner of his eyes, before shaking his head as he continued pacing across the cold stone floor.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know why Edgar let me undertake such a risky ritual all alone, but I¡¯m sure he must have had a good reason.¡±

    Red¡¯s eyes began to narrow, a hint of anger spreading across her girlish face as she pressed her black lips into a thin line. She held up a finger, its naturally dark nail mirroring the black hue of her lips, as she responded to Anthony.

    "You¡¯re making a huge mistake, Anthony. Have you even thought about the consequences of what you¡¯re choosing? If you keep this up, you¡¯ll end up as nothing more than a rotting corpse, swaying by your neck from a cheap rope in the town square, with flies as your only company. This might be your last chance to stop that from happening!"

    Anthony winced at Red¡¯s morbid description of the future he was rushing toward. The young man hesitated for only a moment before slowly closing his eyes. He took a deep breath as he focused his concentration on the beautiful starlike radiance that was constantly rotating inside his mind..

    The spinning light was his ticket to the power he had always yearned for, and Edgar was the one who had gifted it to him, even going so far as loaning him the silver to pay for the required cultivation ingredients.

    Anthony slowly clenched his fists, his face tilting forward slightly as his eyes drifted toward the ground, his brows deeply furrowed. An aura of solemn determination seemed to wash over the young man.

    Red took a half step back out of instinct as Anthony shot a glare up at her, something in his eyes making her hesitate to say her next word.

    ¡°I think you should leave, Red¡­ I am not going to do as you ask.¡±

    As Anthony delivered his final answer, a few moments passed in awkward silence before a gentle smile began to spread across Red¡¯s face, her disposition changing completely from what it had been just a moment before. At that instant, she seemed to be looking at Anthony with satisfaction. Turning her head around slightly, Red shouted back toward the closed door behind her.

    ¡°I¡¯d say he passed with flying colors. Can this be over now, please?¡±

    Anthony¡¯s eyes shot open wide as his gaze darted between Red and the closed door. The sound of clapping could be heard as the wooden entrance swung open, revealing the tall form of Edgar standing just outside.

    Jumping to his feet, Anthony dashed to the bars, a torrent of words spilling from his mouth towards the older man.

    ¡°Edgar, I¡¯m so glad you¡¯re here! Something went wrong with the cultivation technique, I¡¯m sorry, I¡ª¡±

    Anthony¡¯s desperate expression quickly turned to one of confusion, his words slowing to a stop as he noticed the jovial smile spread across Edgar¡¯s face. The next moment the small area outside his cell began filling up as Belle and Garren entered next, both sharing Edgar¡¯s celebratory attitude as they beamed at Anthony with bright expressions.

    Finally, Christoff entered the room last, the only one still wearing a casual look on his face as he presented a ring of keys from under the front of his tunic. He approached the cell without saying a word and began flipping through the keys, as he searched for the one that opened Anthony¡¯s iron bars.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    As the cell door swung open, Anthony stood rooted to his spot, staring up at Edgar for answers. Meanwhile, Red rushed up to Belle, taking the taller elf woman''s hands in her own as she began to speak.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got my first team member, Nana! Thank you! I mean¡­ he¡¯s a bit naive, but that will change fast enough as we start taking on missions.¡±

    Belle continued to smile as she nodded along to Red¡¯s enthusiastic words, wrinkling her nose in displeasure as her heightened senses picked up the lingering remains of the foul odor that had previously filled the room.

    ¡°Of course, Elara. I would not send you into the world with a subpar teammate. Now, can we get out of this filthy place?¡±

    Anthony¡¯s eyes narrowed as he overheard the name Belle used to refer to Red.

    ¡°Elara? So that¡¯s it¡­ You weren¡¯t part of a rival troop at all. You¡¯re the team leader I¡¯m supposed to be joining!¡±

    Elara smiled and shrugged her slim red shoulders.

    ¡°Don¡¯t blame me. Edgar and Nana insisted on testing your character before allowing you to join my team.¡±

    Anthony¡¯s brows furrowed as he looked up at Edgar, a hint of anger creeping into his voice.

    ¡°Is that true, Edgar? Have you been toying with me this whole time?¡±

    Elara stepped forward, placing herself between the two as she shook her head and spoke up in Edgar¡¯s defense.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be upset with them. We¡¯ll be undertaking missions with only each other to rely on. Edgar and Nana couldn¡¯t risk sending me into danger with someone unreliable¡ªor worse, disloyal.¡±

    Anthony sighed as his gaze shifted to Christoff, who stood at the back of the group, clearly enjoying the dramatic show unfolding before him.

    ¡°Were you a part of this too, Christoff? Did you arrest me just to help them test my ¡®character¡¯? Was all of it fake?¡±

    One of Christoff¡¯s eyebrows rose while he met Anthony¡¯s glare, shaking his head slowly as he gestured toward Edgar.

    ¡°Not at all. You really did tear off Bo¡¯s finger, and until Edgar got in touch with me, I had no choice but to charge you. Turns out Bo and his gang intended to rob you, and your actions against them could be considered self-defense. Bo confessed to his lies when he found out Edgar had been nearby, keeping watch during the entire affair. I gave him a choice: drop the charges or take up residence in a cell beside yours for thievery.¡±

    As Christoff finished his explanation, Edgar stepped forward and placed his leathery, scarred hand on Anthony¡¯s shoulder, smiling warmly.

    ¡°I¡¯m very proud of you, Anthony. Moral character like yours is a rare thing in this unforgiving world. Not many people would be brave enough to do the right thing when their life and future were on the line¡ªbut you did. I want to take this moment to officially welcome you to The Iron Fang¡¯s mercenary troop. We¡¯re lucky to have you as a new member, young man.¡±

    Edgar removed his hand from Anthony¡¯s shoulder and pulled out a metal coin bearing the image of an iron-colored fang on the front and Anthony¡¯s name engraved on the back.

    Anthony accepted the coin, running his fingers across the smooth metal. His stern expression finally melted away as a small grin tugged at the corner of his lips. With a swift nod, he looked up at Edgar.

    ¡°I accept!¡±

    A sudden eruption of cheers filled the small space as the members of the troop came forward to shake Anthony¡¯s hand one by one. He winced as Garren approached with a wide grin, slapping him hard on the back after shaking his hand.

    ¡°Well done, Anthony! I¡¯m sorry for doubting you¡ªyou¡¯ve got my respect!¡±

    After the round of congratulations, Christoff returned Anthony¡¯s sword to him. Edgar quickly ushered everyone out of the building, and the group made their way across town toward the inn. As they walked, Elara and Anthony began to get reacquainted.

    ¡°You really had me going there, ¡®Red.¡¯ So, if you¡¯re Belle¡¯s granddaughter, how come the two of you look so different?¡±

    Anthony immediately realized he had touched on a sensitive subject from the way the other members of the team reacted. Glancing around, he noticed the stern expressions on the faces of his companions as he continued to speak hesitantly.

    ¡°Did¡­ did I say something wrong?¡±

    Elara quickly suppressed the sadness that flickered across her face at the mention of her appearance, though she failed to hide the sorrow lingering deep in her eyes.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. You¡¯ll find out sooner or later. If we¡¯re going to be teammates, you need to understand my background and what my goals are.¡±

    Belle looked over at Elara with a pained expression as she listened along while her granddaughter enlightened Anthony about the reason for her odd appearance.

 11 - Her Past

    Elara began to speak but halted in her steps, glancing toward her companions.

    "Go on ahead. I''ll take Anthony to get that rusty sword of his sharpened and oiled while we talk."

    Belle stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Elara, planting a gentle kiss on the young girl''s cheek before stepping away to stand beside Edgar and Garren. Edgar nodded toward Elara and Anthony, waving a hand through the air as he spoke.

    "You two will need to take care of yourselves for the next day or two. We still have a mission to finish now that Anthony''s matter is settled. Elara, you should use this opportunity to do some training with Anthony¡ªget acquainted with each other and lay some foundations for teamwork. As for you, Anthony, follow Elara''s instructions. She is your best asset right now, and has been preparing for this most of her life."

    The two youngest members of The Iron Fang nodded swiftly at Edgar''s instructions before waving goodbye and heading off toward the blacksmith''s shop.

    Elara remained silent as they made their way to the small, open-walled smith shop. She handed the man inside a bronze coin for access to his grinding stone and an oiled rag. Passing the rag to Anthony, she finally spoke.

    "Do you know how to properly care for that blade?"

    Anthony nodded as he accepted the rag and sat down in front of the grinder. He got the stone spinning with the pedal on the floor and carefully began to create a fresh edge on his sword by running it along the spinning stone.

    As Anthony focused on his task, Elara took a seat behind him, where he couldn''t see the moisture building in her eyes when she finally began to speak about her past.

    "My mother''s name was Fenna. She was a skilled healer whose unique ability to cure stubborn illnesses allowed her to create a thriving business in Tree Castle, and make a name for herself among the neighboring peoples. She was a beautiful, kind, and strong elven woman."

    Elara took a deep breath and wiped the back of her arm across her eyes before continuing.

    "When the three-year war between the Elven city of Tree Castle and the wandering demon tribes was coming to an end, part of the negotiated peace required the elves to send healers into the demons'' camp to try and save the great general''s life. His sudden illness was a major reason the demon tribes had lost the will to continue the war. My mother was chosen as one of those healers, and, in order to help stop the awful bloodshed, she accepted the task."

    A sudden anger replaced the sadness in Elara¡¯s eyes as she reached this part of the story. Her nostrils flared slightly, and her brow furrowed deeply over her bright yellow eyes.

    "My mother did her job well, healing the illness that others could not. But when the general regained his strength, instead of giving her the gratitude she deserved, he kidnapped her and kept her imprisoned in the demon camp for over a month. Only when the elves were on the verge of restarting the war over the issue did the despicable demon release my mother. By that time, she was already pregnant."

    The anger slowly faded, giving way to tears. Elara stopped speaking for several minutes, the two sitting in silence broken only by the sound of metal against stone as Anthony continued to sharpen his sword. Finally, Elara settled her emotions and continued.

    "Demon physiology is much different from that of the elves. Someone like me being born is nearly impossible. Nana thinks my mother¡¯s innate magical gifts caused me to survive when I should have died at conception. This turned out to be a curse, as I grew too quickly inside her. Even with all the help of the healing community of Tree Castle, my mother still lost her life during childbirth."Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    Elara remained silent after speaking those final words, until Anthony finished sharpening his blade. She followed him over to the bench where he began applying the oil. Anthony glanced at her puffy red eyes before swiftly turning his gaze back to his sword.

    "So you were born as a half-demon in a city that had just been at war with demons. That must have been hard."

    Elara nodded, a bitter expression spreading across her face.

    "Nana is probably the only reason I¡¯m still alive. It was her strength that kept those cowards from taking out their anger on a child, but they still made sure to remind me I was an unwelcome monster every chance they got. That¡¯s the main reason Nana took me away from that place, moving us to Highwarden where she joined up with Edgar''s Iron Fangs."

    Anthony wiped the last stubborn spots of rust with oil before holding the sword up to the light. The blade now had a sharp edge and finally looked like a reliable weapon, no longer resembling a crude tool that was about to crumble into a pile of rusty metal shavings at any second.

    Anthony carefully slid the blade into its sheath, then looked up at Elara, noticing the insecurity on her face after being forced to resurface all the old wounds of her painful past. Glancing back over toward her, Anthony tried to put on a reassuring smile.

    "Thank you for sharing your story with me, Elara. I¡¯m sorry about your mother. I think you already know my own mother died when I was a child. I guess we¡¯re similar in that way. For what it¡¯s worth, when I first saw you, none of the words that came to my mind were even remotely close to ''monster.'' I¡¯m grateful to be part of your team."

    A bright smile began to spread across Elara¡¯s face, replacing the anxious expression that preceded it, her eyes narrowing slightly as she placed one finger against her chin.

    "That¡¯s right! I think the word you used was¡­ ''pretty''?"

    Anthony sat up straight and knocked his fist against his chest a few times, clearing his throat as his cheeks turned slightly red.

    "Ahem. So. What do you say we get started with that training? I¡¯m eager to see what my team leader is capable of."

    <hr>

    At the front entrance of The Jolly Farmer, Bo and his crew were making a scene, complaining loudly as two town guards escorted them out of the tavern. Bo shouted a string of curses at the barkeep on his way out, spittle dripping down his chin.

    "You ungrateful old bastard! I¡¯ve spent enough coin in this place to buy a horse!"

    The barkeep shook his head bitterly as he poured a beer for a paying customer.

    "Come back when you can pay, Bo. I don¡¯t want to see your ugly face again until then."

    Bo and his two underlings shuffled into a nearby alley, sitting down among the filth and mud as they tried to think of a way to make some quick coin. Bo cradled his still aching hand as his expression began shifting from self-pity to anger.

    "It¡¯s that bastard Anthony¡¯s fault. If he didn¡¯t bite off the finger on my good hand, I could at least do some hard labor for a few coins. Now even that¡¯s impossible. I swear, I¡¯m going to find a way to make that bastard pay for what he did to me!"

    As Bo ranted, a relatively short man wearing a ragged hood stepped into the alley, moving directly toward the trio. The three seated men stared up at the newcomer with uncertainty, remaining silent as they waited for him to speak.

    "I couldn¡¯t help overhearing that you¡¯re in need of some coins and that you¡¯ve got a score to settle with Anthony. How would you three fine men like to kill two birds with one stone? Emphasis on the word kill."

    As the hooded stranger slowly revealed his face, the eyes of the three seated men went wide as the shock on Bo¡¯s face soon morphed into a devilish grin as he stared up at the familiar man standing before him.

    <hr>

    Unbeknownst to the four men conspiring in the alley, a young woman in the nearby apothecary had overheard their conversation. Pressing her slender frame against the wall just beside the opened window, Pom clasped her tiny hands over her mouth, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. She remained perfectly still, straining to catch every word of the sinister plot unfolding just outside her shop.

 12 - Just Outside Town

    Elara frowned as she casually rapped her knuckles against the dilapidated leather of Anthony¡¯s chest armor.

    ¡°Before we start training, we need to do something about that equipment of yours.¡±

    A look of uncertainty spread across the young man¡¯s face as he looked down at the item covering his chest.

    ¡°But¡­ this was my grandfather''s armor!¡±

    Elara rolled her eyes and beckoned for him to follow her, heading out of the blacksmith¡¯s and toward the leatherworker¡¯s shop across the road.

    ¡°Good, keep it as an heirloom. That thing saw the end of its usefulness many years ago.¡±

    As Anthony followed Elara into the shop, the two were greeted by a hefty, middle-aged woman who barely spoke a word, but continued to stare rudely at Elara from the moment they stepped into the building.

    To Elara¡¯s credit, she didn¡¯t let the woman''s bad manners faze her. She walked toward the shopkeeper proudly as she gestured toward Anthony with one hand.

    ¡°Get my handsome friend here fitted with a full set of leather armor.¡±

    Elara casually glanced around the shop as the old woman continued to stare at her with growing uncertainty.

    ¡°Is there a problem? What are you waiting for?¡±

    The fat woman continued to stare for a few more seconds before shrugging her shoulders and shuffling over to Anthony with a measuring tape. She pulled on the young man''s arms and kicked at his legs like he was a piece of furniture as she took her measurements. When she finished, she nodded her head approvingly and looked back at Elara.

    ¡°You¡¯re in luck. I¡¯ve got a set that will fit him, but I want to see the coin first.¡±

    Elara reached one hand into the neck of her own leather armor, pulling out a heavy pouch from somewhere close to her chest. The sound of coins jingling together filled the shop as Elara shook the bag a few times for the rotund woman to hear. Meanwhile, Anthony tried not to stare at the lucky bag that had been riding along pressed against the bare skin inside Elara¡¯s armor.

    The woman running the shop became much more pleasant the moment she heard the jingle of coins. She swiftly made her way into the back of the shop, returning a few moments later with a stack of items in her arms.

    Over the next few minutes, she displayed each piece for Anthony to see before showing him how to equip them properly. The set included a chest piece with a flap on the front that hung low enough to protect his groin area, tall shin guards that extended a few inches past his knees, to cover what the chest armor missed, and bracers for his arms.

    After equipping all the pieces of the dark leather armor set, Anthony was beginning to look like a proper mercenary. Elara gave him a thumbs-up as she followed the storekeeper over to the counter to pay.

    Anthony scratched the back of his head awkwardly as he watched Elara pay for him.

    ¡°Thank you, Elara. I have to admit, this gear is a great improvement over my grandfather''s armor.¡±

    Elara handed over the coins, casually accepting his thanks.

    ¡°Well, I have to keep my new subordinate alive, don¡¯t I? Anyway, it¡¯s a loan, not a gift, so no need to be too bashful about it.¡±This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Leaving the shopkeeper with a big smile on her face, Anthony and Elara headed up the mountain toward a nearby clearing at the edge of town to get away from the crowded streets and begin training. When they reached the lightly wooded area Elara stepped forward, turning to face Anthony as she began to speak.

    ¡°How familiar are you with the realm categories for body cultivators in this world?¡±

    Anthony¡¯s brows furrowed as he slowly shook his head.

    ¡°What do you mean, realm categories?¡±

    Elara sighed, nodding knowingly.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought. Listen up. There are five general levels of power, each divided into initial, mid-grade, and peak. The realms are as follows: Trainee, Conditioned, Refined, Mastered, and Heroic.¡±

    She stepped forward, wrinkling her nose as she gestured toward Anthony¡¯s skin.

    ¡°That nasty black stuff your skin ejected means you broke through to the initial Trainee realm. The fact that you did it during your first cultivation session after setting your foundation is quite impressive. That¡¯s something only the most elite body cultivators are capable of. If you stick to your training and don¡¯t get killed early, you¡¯ll have a bright future ahead of you, Anthony.¡±

    Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he considered the information for a few moments before looking toward Elara with clear curiosity in his gaze.

    ¡°I see... What realm are you in, then?¡±

    A proud grin spread across Elara¡¯s black lips as she tilted her head, as if putting herself on display.

    ¡°I¡¯m a magic user, so it¡¯s a bit different. The realms are Awakened, Focused, Refined, Mastered, and Boundless. I just reached the initial Awakened realm, which made me eligible to lead a team of my own!¡±

    Anthony narrowed his eyes, considering Elara¡¯s words.

    ¡°So, we are both at the lowest stage. Does that mean we¡¯re at a similar level of strength, then?¡±

    Elara raised one eyebrow high as she heard Anthony¡¯s question.

    ¡°Ha! As if. I¡¯ve been training to become a mercenary my whole life¡ªyou just started today. Come on, I¡¯ll show you. Get over here and try to hit me.¡±

    Anthony stepped forward hesitantly as Elara urged him on impatiently.

    ¡°Quit stalling. Get over here and give me your best shot. That¡¯s an order!¡±

    Letting out a sigh of resignation, Anthony focused on his task, launching himself toward Elara. He clenched one hand into a fist and pulled his arm back for a heavy swing. As Anthony got within striking distance, Elara leaned back nimbly, letting his fist swing harmlessly over her.

    Taking advantage of his momentum, Elara wrapped her arms around Anthony, shifted her weight to the side, and flipped him onto the ground. She landed on top of him forcefully, leaving him squinting from the speed and power with which his back hit the floor.

    For a moment, she stayed on his chest, looking down at him with satisfaction. Even as pain shot through his body, Anthony couldn¡¯t help but notice the soft leg pressing against the inside of his thigh.

    Before Elara could get to her feet, the sound of footsteps slapping against the ground entered her enhanced hearing.

    As the pain in Anthony¡¯s body subsided, he looked up at her, only to see a distracted expression spreading across her face as she stared into the forest. Without looking at him, she spoke in a hushed tone.

    ¡°Someone¡¯s coming toward us.¡±

    Elara slowly rose to her feet just as the small frame of a human girl burst through the bushes. The girl¡¯s flustered expression betrayed her panic as she struggled to fix her glasses, which the branches had knocked askew.

    Anthony quickly stood and stepped toward her.

    ¡°Pom? What are you doing here?¡±

    Pom¡¯s tiny hands trembled as she heard Anthony¡¯s voice, a look of fear breaking through the exhaustion on her face. She was clearly out of breath from running.

    ¡°A-Anthony! They¡¯re behind me¡ªwe have to run!¡±

    Before Anthony could ask any of the questions rushing to the forefront of his mind, the sound of a sharp whistle split the air. Elara immediately crouched to the ground, but Anthony stood frozen in confusion.

    His eyes widened in horror as a spray of blood splattered across his face, causing him to shut his eyes instinctively. When he wiped the blood away, he saw Pom¡¯s face had gone completely pale. She was reaching one hand up, gently touching the arrowhead that had pierced her neck. Bright red blood streamed down the front of her dress like a scarlet river.

    ¡°No!¡±

    Anthony tried to reach out to her, but before he could, Elara yanked him to the ground. The next instant, another wave of arrows ripped through the clearing.

    Pom trembled as a second arrow bit deeply into the flesh of her back, and three more arrows flew over the spot where Anthony had been standing moments earlier.

 13 - Cutting Down The Past

    ¡°We need to run! They have the drop on us, and we don¡¯t know how many there are. If we get surrounded, we¡¯re dead!¡±

    Elara tugged on Anthony¡¯s arm, urging the young man to follow her, but he stood firm, a look of determination spreading across his face.

    ¡°No! I won¡¯t leave Pom behind!¡±

    Elara clenched her teeth in frustration. Instead of arguing, she twirled a finger in the air, a glimmer of magic dancing across the space in front of her. A moment later, a flood of dark smoke billowed out from her spell.

    ¡°Now! That won¡¯t last long!¡±

    Anthony rolled forward, sliding his arms under Pom''s body and lifting the dying girl off the ground. He quickly followed Elara as they raced through the forest.

    Tears ran down Pom''s face as she struggled to breathe, her eyes staring up at Anthony in desperation while her fingers scrambled to pull at the cord around her neck.

    ¡°This way!¡±

    Anthony called for Elara to follow him as he led them out of the trees and into a maze-like area of large boulders. The rocks were clustered close together, forming narrow alleys that crisscrossed a large portion of the mountainside.

    He knew this place well, having spent many warm days exploring it as a child. He led Elara through a few twists and turns before slipping through a narrow opening and stopping inside a well-hidden, enclosed space.

    Carefully laying Pom on the ground, he noticed the young girl¡¯s desperate struggle to pull something out from under her clothing. Too weak from blood loss, she couldn¡¯t manage it on her own.

    Anthony quickly pulled the thread around her neck, revealing a small leather pouch. Inside was a tiny vial of glowing orange liquid. Pom¡¯s bloody fingers weakly reached for it, while Anthony removed the stopper before pushing the vial into her hand.

    At the entrance to the hidden area, Elara kept watch for their pursuers. When she glanced back and saw the orange glow of the vial, her eyes widened. She mumbled a hushed, ¡°No way¡­¡±, as her gaze locked onto the item.

    Anthony had to hold Pom¡¯s trembling hands steady as he guided the vial to her lips. He worried she wouldn¡¯t be able to swallow, but the orange liquid vanished the moment it touched her tongue.

    For a few seconds, nothing happened. Anthony, kneeling beside her, held the back of Pom¡¯s head with one hand. Then he began to feel a sticky sensation spreading through the fingers that held the girl up.

    Over the next ten seconds, Pom¡¯s body turned a shiny pink as her flesh liquefied, oozing through Anthony¡¯s fingers. Panicking, he pulled his hand back and stared down in surprise.

    ¡°W-What is happening to her!?¡±

    Elara¡¯s expression shifted to one of intense fascination as she watched the transformation.

    ¡°I think¡­ that was a legendary potion! How in the five realms did she get that? It¡¯s worth more than this whole town!¡±

    Pom¡¯s fearful eyes locked onto Anthony¡¯s as her face became the last part of her to melt. The arrows fell away from her body as she turned into a large, jelly-like pink blob.

    Anthony¡¯s eyes darted back and forth across the pink slime in front of him, a look of horror taking over on his face.

    ¡°W-What do I do!?¡±

    Before Elara could respond, the sound of footsteps approached from nearby, followed by a flurry of arrows flying through the opening to their hiding place. The projectiles narrowly missed Elara as she pressed her body against the stone to avoid the attack.

    Elara narrowed her eyes, glancing angrily toward the entrance.

    ¡°How did they find us so fast!?¡±

    As Anthony considered her question, a taunting voice called out from the distance.

    ¡°Come on out, boy! I know you¡¯re in there. You always hide in the same spot.¡±

    Hearing the familiar voice of his stepfather caused Anthony¡¯s face to go pale, then twist into an angry grimace as he shouted back.

    ¡°You bastard! How dare you do this to Pom? Why couldn¡¯t you just let me leave in peace!?¡±

    Another round of arrows ricocheted off the stone wall, followed by another furious shout.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you why! Your dumb bitch of a mother¡¯s will won¡¯t let me sell the house if you¡¯re alive! She thought she was protecting you by doing that, because she was too stupid to realize it would get you killed!¡±

    Anthony grit his teeth so hard that his gums nearly began to bleed. Pulling his sword from its sheath, he turned to Elara with determination.

    ¡°We¡¯re trapped. The only chance we have is to charge them at the same moment after their next shot. Make some more smoke to give us cover.¡±

    Elara shook her head, motioning for Anthony to stop.

    ¡°Just wait. I¡¯ll think of a pl¡ª¡±

    Her words faltered as her eyes went wide, staring at the ground beside Anthony. Following her gaze, Anthony saw the ball of slime slowly morphing back into the form of Pom.

    Within seconds, Pom¡¯s body had completely reformed, her skin and clothing now bearing a faint pink hue that slightly shined like a glossy surface. She stood up, picking her glasses off the ground and placing them over her eyes.

    Pom winced, her expression shifting into one of deep regret. She picked up the empty vial, cradling it in her hands as streams of pink tears flowed down her cheeks.

    ¡°G-Grandpa¡¯s inheritance¡­ Now I¡¯ll never figure out what the ingredients were.¡±

    Her regret quickly turned to anger as she glared in the direction of the men who had nearly killed her. Without hesitation, she stepped toward the entrance.

    Elara raised an arm to stop her, but Pom ignored the warning, striding into the open with an angry scowl.

    Anthony dashed forward to grab her, but before he could, four arrows shot through the entrance, piercing Pom¡¯s body. Instead of drawing blood, her flesh liquefied back into slime, causing the arrows to fall harmlessly to the ground.

    Pom looked down at her own body with a startled expression, then stomped her foot and continued forward. Elara didn¡¯t waste the opportunity, pulling a dagger from her waist and waving Anthony forward.

    The two dashed out of the narrow rock area behind Pom, catching sight of four men spread out across the rocky terrain as they hurriedly reloaded their bows.

    Elara followed closely behind Pom, heading toward the group of three on the right. Conjuring a thick cloud of smoke to fill the area, she shouted back at Anthony.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got these three; the last one is all yours!¡±

    Anthony gritted his teeth as his gaze locked with his stepfather''s across the open area. He watched the man rush to notch his bow before a cloud of smoke from Elara¡¯s spell obscured his vision.

    The moment he was out of sight, Anthony ducked low and dashed across the area to a nearby boulder for cover, picking up a few small rocks along the way. He hurled them in the opposite direction to distract his opponent.

    The distraction worked. As his stepfather aimed in the wrong direction, Anthony managed to close half the distance before being forced to duck behind another rock. Now, however, that trick wouldn¡¯t work a second time, and he was way outside the smoke''s coverage.

    Anthony furrowed his brows, considering his options. His eyes fell on the leather armor from his grandfather, which he had rolled up and tied to his side after changing into the new armor Elara had bought him.

    Quickly untying the old armor, he opened it up to use as a makeshift shield. Taking a few deep breaths to steel himself, Anthony dashed out from cover at full speed. He held the armor in front of him, his feet pounding the ground so hard that dust and rocks kicked up behind him.

    ¡°Die!¡±

    His stepfather¡¯s shout and the twang of a bowstring snapping forward reached Anthony just before the arrow did. The razor-sharp arrowhead pierced through the ragged leather armor with apparent ease, slamming into his new armor with just enough force to pierce it, the tip of the arrowhead sinking into his flesh, but remaining shallow enough to prevent the barbs from latching onto him.

    ¡°Ahh!¡±

    Anthony cried out in pain as he ripped the arrow out without slowing down, the old armor had done its job, blunting the arrow''s momentum enough for him to survive the shot. He tossed the bloody arrow and old armor aside as he charged forward. Now only a half-dozen meters away, his stepfather''s sneering expression twisted into one of fearful realization as the young man approached.

    The older man tried frantically to notch another arrow, but as Anthony closed the gap, he gave up, dropped the bow and drew a dagger from his waist in a desperate last attempt to defend himself.

    For someone who had reached the Trainee realm, Anthony¡¯s speed made his stepfather¡¯s movements seem sluggish, like a child flailing against an adult. Now that the advantage of ranged weapons was gone, the fight was already decided.

    His stepfather jumped backward, flinging the dagger at Anthony awkwardly, but the young man swatted it aside with ease. A look of rage contorted the older man¡¯s face as he stumbled back step after step, shouting in a venomous tone.

    ¡°You should already be dead! You were supposed to die when I lured your useless mother into the path of that ogre! It was perfect¡ªno one would¡¯ve ever suspected I was involved! But you had to survive and ruin everything!¡±

    Anthony¡¯s eyes widened as he froze, staring at the man in front of him with a stunned expression. As the words sunk into his mind, the spinning orb in his head began to rotate at incredible speeds, the sudden revelation unleashing a surge of power that rapidly grew to dangerous levels.

    ¡°W-What¡¯s happening!?¡±

    His stepfather¡¯s vengeful expression shifted to confusion as a red, glowing mist began to rise from Anthony¡¯s skin. Anthony felt as if he were being cooked alive, but he instinctively channeled the energy into his sword. The blade began to glow red-hot, waves of distortion caused by the heat spreading out from the metal as the young man lifted it in the air.

    ¡°W-Wait! Stop! N¡ª¡±

    In a blur of motion, Anthony dashed forward and brought the glowing blade down on his stepfather¡¯s head. For a brief moment, the man¡¯s horrified expression remained on his face, as a thin, perfectly straight line of blood appeared down the center of his head.

    A second later, the man''s expression turned blank as the two halves fell apart in opposite directions. Anthony dropped the sword to the ground as the metal started dripping into melted slag from the overwhelming heat.

    As his stepfather¡¯s lifeless body collapsed, the glowing orb in Anthony¡¯s mind began to slow. But as it did, an unbearable exhaustion overtook him. He barely had time to kneel before a wave of blackness overtook his vision.

 14 - A New Member

    As the light of consciousness returned to Anthony¡¯s eyes, the first thing he saw was the concerned look on Pom¡¯s now slightly pink face. The young girl was leaning over his body, pressing the back of her palm against his overheated forehead. When she noticed his eyes drifting open, relief washed over her, and a wide smile spread across her face.

    ¡°Thank goodness! My hero is awake.¡±

    The joyful look on Pom¡¯s face slowly shifted to one of stern sincerity as she stared into Anthony¡¯s eyes and continued.

    ¡°Now I can thank you properly for saving my life. If you hadn¡¯t grabbed me after those bastards shot me twice in the back, I would have most certainly died.¡±

    She planted a swift kiss on Anthony¡¯s cheek before leaning back to allow him to sit up. The young man raised himself off the ground slowly, holding one hand to his aching head. His entire body felt wrong, as if he had been left to simmer in a cooking pot overnight. Somehow, the revelation from his step father caused the memory bound by his cultivation method to release a burst of power. The problem was that it was dangerously intense, nearly cooking him along with his ruined sword.

    Doing his best to ignore the pain, Anthony looked over toward his red haired companion.

    ¡°Pom¡­ I¡¯m glad you¡¯re okay. I really thought you were going to die¡ªthings would have been bad without that potion. How did you ever get your hands on something like that?¡±

    As Anthony spoke, he glanced around the area, quickly noticing the unconscious bodies of the three men Elara and Pom had gone after. The leader of the group, Bo, was now missing more than just a finger¡ªhis entire arm had been sliced off at the shoulder. He would most likely bleed out soon.

    Anthony watched as Elara twirled a finger in the air, generating a length of black rope that she used to tie up Bo¡¯s two underlings. When she reached Bo, however, she scratched the back of her head, staring down at the man in hesitation¡ªunsure how to restrain a one-armed prisoner.

    After hearing Anthony''s question, Pom¡¯s expression darkened with anger, her brow deeply furrowed as she pulled out the empty vial that had once held her most precious asset. She gazed down at it longingly as she answered Anthony.

    ¡°This potion has been in my family for over sixty years. My grandfather brought it back from the adventures he undertook in his youth. He always spoke proudly about how it was the most valuable treasure he ever found.¡±

    Anthony tilted his head slightly to the side, considering her story.

    ¡°What was the point of saving it for so long? Shouldn¡¯t he have used it or sold it at some point?¡±

    Pom let out a frustrated sigh as she returned the empty vial to its leather pouch before answering.

    ¡°Yes, he could have. The problem was that without knowing it''s effects we could never sell it for what it was actually worth. All my grandfather ever discovered about it was that it came from the private collection of a long-dead king. It was always his dream to reverse-engineer the potion, to uncover both its recipe and its uses. Having access to a legendary formula would have made our shop famous. When he retired without achieving his dream, he handed the potion down to me.¡±Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Anthony''s eyes drifted open in realization before he looked at Pom with renewed fear.

    "So you used it without even knowing if it would help?"

    Her gaze drifted up toward the cloudy sky as a glimmer of moisture welled in her eyes.

    ¡°The king always carried this potion on his person, even getting buried with it, so grandfather suspected that it had some life saving properties. And now it¡¯s gone¡­ I¡¯ll never get the chance to uncover the secrets of it''s creation.¡±

    Elara, having just finished tying Bo¡¯s remaining arm to his underlings legs, stepped toward Pom and Anthony with a sly grin spread across her black lips. She stared down at Pom as if she were looking at a pouch full of gold coins as she spoke.

    ¡°Well now, it sounds to me like all you need to do is get your hands on another legendary potion!¡±

    Pom rolled her eyes as she stood up, carefully dusting off the front of her dress before responding in an annoyed tone.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mock me, Elara! You know full well it¡¯s impossible to get something like that. Even if I sold the entire shop, I couldn¡¯t afford a single drop of a legendary potion!¡±

    Elara shrugged as she walked over, stepping directly in front of Pom and pressing a finger against the center of the young girl¡¯s chest.

    ¡°Wrong! You just need to get it the same way your grandfather did¡ªyou need to go on an adventure!¡±

    The annoyance on Pom¡¯s face slowly morphed into a mix of thoughtfulness and doubt. She stared at Elara for a few seconds before shaking her head and looking down.

    ¡°I¡¯m no adventurer. I wouldn¡¯t even know how to start something like that. Adventuring is for people who are special.¡±

    Elara pressed a finger to her chin, striking a valiant pose as she responded.

    ¡°Why, thank you! I do feel rather special! But don¡¯t sell yourself short, Pom. Without your ability to absorb those arrows, Anthony and I would¡¯ve been in a tough spot. You''ve got your own superpower now, and you were essential to our victory today.¡±

    Anthony nodded as he spoke in agreement.

    ¡°Pom is a talented apothecary as well. Without her, I would¡¯ve never created my cultivation potion.¡±

    Elara¡¯s grin widened at this new piece of information. Grabbing Pom¡¯s hand, she eagerly launched into her pitch.

    ¡°That settles it! You¡¯re the perfect adventurer, Pom! So you have no reason to refuse¡ªbecome a member of The Iron Fangs! Join my team with Anthony! Come with us into the world to find a new legendary potion and fulfill the dream your grandfather passed down to you!¡±

    A nervous expression crossed Pom¡¯s face as she stared at Elara, unsure how to respond to such a passionate request. After a few seconds, her eyes flickered over toward Anthony, lingering on his face before quickly looking away. She took a deep breath, lowering her head and placing a hand gently over her reddened left cheek. Without looking up, she nodded slightly in agreement.

    A toothy grin overtook Elara¡¯s face as she clenched one red fist in celebration. Glancing at Anthony with a knowing smirk, she walked over to him, leaned in close, and tapped his nose with a finger as she whispered in his ear.

    ¡°Good job, handsome. Your pretty face just landed us our third team member.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Anthony furrowed his brows, looking back and forth between Elara and Pom. Elara sighed at his dense response, waving a hand dismissively before turning back to Pom with a smile.

    ¡°Welcome to the team, Pom! You won¡¯t regret this decision. First order of business¡ªwe need to go fetch the town guards. These bastards can¡¯t be allowed to remain free any longer.¡±

    Anthony glanced down at the tied-up men, his gaze darkening as it landed on the lifeless body of his stepfather. Barely concealed rage burned in his eyes as he spoke.

    ¡°Why did you even bother leaving them alive? They all deserve to die.¡±

    Elara smiled, nodding at his question as she placed a finger on her chin in thought.

    ¡°Sure, they deserve to be dead, but I¡¯m a mercenary. If the town wants to pay me to kill them, I¡¯ll be happy to oblige. Plus, things will go much smoother for us once these three confess to their crimes. Killing them all might make the guards suspicious of our story.¡±

    She took a seat on a large rock near the prisoners and motioned toward the town.

    ¡°I¡¯ll stand watch over these fools. You two go fetch the guards.¡±

 15 - A New Weapon

    Anthony, Pom, and Elara sat before the head of the judicial council. After alerting the guards and sending the three surviving villains off¡ªtwo to prison and one for emergency medical care¡ªthe young companions were thoroughly questioned for over an hour.

    As the council head prepared to interrogate them further, a guard stepped into the room, walking up sternly and whispering something to the elderly man. The gray-haired council leader nodded and waved the guard away.

    ¡°Very well. The confession of your assailants has been extracted, and since you have explained that you will all be leaving my town very shortly anyway, I am not inclined to pursue this matter any further. Dismissed!¡±

    SLAM

    The council head struck his mallet against the desk, signaling the issue¡¯s closure and allowing the three to leave with a verbal warning to avoid further trouble.

    As they stepped back onto the streets of the small town, Pom let out a sigh of relief as she turned to Anthony and Elara.

    ¡°That was scary, I¡¯ve never been questioned by the courts before. Anyway, I need to go speak with my family. They¡¯ll have to decide who will take over running the shop after I leave. Anthony, now that your stepfather is gone, your family property belongs to you. You should think about selling that old house.¡±

    Elara¡¯s eyelids fluttered slightly at the mention of the property now in Anthony¡¯s name. Stepping toward him, she flashed a brilliant smile, eagerly encouraging Anthony to follow Pom¡¯s suggestion.

    ¡°That¡¯s perfect! You need a new weapon after turning yours into a puddle, and it won¡¯t be cheap. You¡¯ll need something that can withstand high levels of magical energy so this doesn¡¯t happen again. Plus, you still need to repay me and Edgar. Come on, I¡¯ll help you get it done.¡±

    Elara waved to Pom as she grabbed Anthony¡¯s hand, pulling him along toward the town hall without waiting for a response. Anthony decided that it was for the best, since the home would go to ruin while he was gone if he didn¡¯t sell it anyway.

    They reached the town hall without issue, and after enduring an hour of tedious bureaucracy Anthony was finally handed a fresh deed to the property his mother had left behind, now listing him as the sole owner.

    Elara nodded in satisfaction as she glanced at the paper. Next, she suggested that Anthony should head to the local merchant organization, explaining her thinking as they walked.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have time to slowly wait for the best price since we¡¯re leaving as soon as Edgar¡¯s team gets back. The best thing to do is leave it for the merchants to sell and accept a bit less than the fair market price. That way, we get the coin right away.¡±

    Anthony and Elara stepped into the merchant organization, and half an hour later, they walked back out. Anthony scratched the back of his head with uncertainty as Elara counted the bag of silver coins.

    ¡°Twelve silver coins! Not too shabby! After paying back me and Edgar, you¡¯re left with nine silver. Catch!¡±

    Elara tossed the sack of coins to Anthony as they headed toward the blacksmith shop they had visited previously in order to sharpen his grandfather''s sword.

    Inside, a young clerk was polishing the heads of a row of spears that hung on the storeroom wall. Anthony approached the young man and pulled the remains of his ruined sword from his bag.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to purchase a new weapon. My cultivation technique generates too much energy, and my last sword was destroyed.¡±

    The clerk¡¯s eyes widened slightly as he took the melted sword in his hands, running his fingers across the bubbled metal before handing it back. After rubbing his chin and glancing at the display case full of swords for a few seconds, the clerk soon responded. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Hmm. That¡¯s not something you can buy cheap. These swords are all meant for normal hunters or guardsmen. Let me go ask my dad if he¡¯s got anything like that.¡±

    The young man hurried into the forge, where his father was hard at work. The clanging of metal from the distant room soon ceased, replaced by the murmur of voices and the sound of footsteps.

    A few minutes later, a large, sweaty man in a leather apron walked in. He eyed Elara up and down for a few seconds before placing a large item wrapped in leather on the table in front of Anthony. His gruff voice rumbled as he spoke.

    ¡°You¡¯re damn lucky, kid. About three years ago, a magic user in the Focused realm ordered a sword from me¡ªone that could withstand high levels of power and heat. Once it was made, he tried to pressure me into cutting the price in half, thinking he could force me into a corner because I¡¯d already invested in crafting the damn thing.¡±

    The blacksmith flipped open the leather wrapping, revealing a beautiful black sword with a U-shaped guard oriented toward the weapon''s tip. Anthony fell in love with it the moment his eyes landed on it, gently lifting it off the counter as the polished black metal gleamed in the light.

    Noticing the look in Anthony¡¯s eyes, a smirk tugged at the corner of the blacksmith¡¯s mouth as he continued to speak.

    ¡°Twenty silver. That¡¯s five silver less than the original price¡ªI just want this thing out of my shop.¡±

    Anthony¡¯s expression dropped as he looked up at the blacksmith with shock, he opened his mouth to complain but Elara motioned for him to stay silent. Stepping forward, she leaned in to examine the sword closely before shaking her head.

    ¡°It¡¯s a nice sword, and maybe if someone commissioned you to make it, you could charge fifteen silver. But this isn¡¯t a custom order for us¡ªit¡¯s been sitting in your shop collecting dust for years. If we pool our coins together, we might be able to scrounge up six silver. You can take that or keep using this thing as an overpriced pillow.¡±

    The blacksmith narrowed his eyes, crossing his thick arms over his chest as he let out a dissatisfied huff. Elara met his glare without flinching, and suddenly, the two launched into a rapid-fire exchange.

    ¡°It¡¯s got to be at least eleven!¡±

    ¡°Too bad¡ªit¡¯s only five!¡±

    ¡°I paid eight just for the materials!¡±

    ¡°Deal! Eight it is.¡±

    The blacksmith raised one burly hand, his finger pointing at Elara as he prepared to continue the argument, but before he could, his son¡ªwho had been silent during the whole exchange¡ªstepped forward and shook Elara¡¯s hand.

    ¡°Deal! Sorry, Dad. I know you¡¯re still upset about losing out on this sword, but we can¡¯t afford to wait another three years to sell it.¡±

    A smug expression spread across Elara¡¯s face as she swiftly grasped the young clerk¡¯s hand, squinting in satisfaction at her small victory.

    The blacksmith threw up his hands in frustration before stomping out of the room. Anthony thanked the clerk as he handed over the eight silver.

    As they stepped out of the blacksmith¡¯s shop, Anthony strapped his new sword to his waist before gazing sadly at the single silver coin remaining in his pouch.

    Elara slapped his back gently when she noticed his gloomy expression.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be so glum, handsome! That blacksmith wasn¡¯t lying about the value of that sword¡ªyou could probably get sixteen silver for it in Highwarden. But selling it would be dumb. You¡¯re a mercenary now¡ªa strong weapon is your ticket to riches!¡±

    The two companions made their way toward Pom¡¯s shop, where they found her waiting outside with a heavy apothecary¡¯s bag strapped over her shoulders. The bag was nearly half her size and packed so full it looked ready to burst.

    As Pom spotted them approaching, she broke into a run, waving with a big smile. Because she wasn¡¯t accustomed to running with such a heavy pack, she lost her balance and began to stumble forward. She put up a valiant effort as she tried desperately to move faster to keep from falling forward.

    Unfortunately, she failed.

    Pom toppled down, all her momentum transferring into her head as it cracked against the cobblestone sidewalk. She appeared to almost bounce off the stone as she instantly scrambled back to her feet, seemingly unharmed¡ªbut finding that her glasses had vanished during the fall.

    As she spun around, searching frantically, Elara and Anthony approached with strange expressions etched across their faces. Pom glanced up at them hurriedly and gestured toward the ground.

    ¡°Won¡¯t you help me? I can¡¯t find my glasses.¡±

    Elara and Anthony exchanged a glance before Elara stepped forward and whispered something in Pom¡¯s ear. A second later, the young girl¡¯s face went pale. Slowly, she reached up and felt one end of her glasses poking out from inside her forehead.

    With a shaky grip, she wrapped her fingers around the exposed portion and pulled. As the glasses slid out, her skin briefly took on a jelly-like consistency, jiggling slightly before settling back into place.

    Pom calmly returned the glasses to her eyes as her skin turned back to normal, then cleared her throat as she subtly changed the subject.

    ¡°Ehem¡­ So, what¡¯s our next move?¡±

 16 - Training Mission!

    ¡°What the heck was that potion you drank, Pom? Did it turn you into a human slime or something? Also, can you control it at all? This could be a more useful skill than I first thought¡ªimagine using it to slip out of handcuffs or squeeze through prison bars!¡±

    Elara questioned Pom enthusiastically, poking a finger into her new subordinate¡¯s arm. Pom wore a nervous expression as she glanced at the fierce yellow eyes staring at her so intently.

    Her skin felt like normal human flesh¡ªsoft, warm, and smooth. However, if Elara pressed hard enough, it immediately transformed into a pink, slime-like substance, preventing any physical damage.

    Pom shook her head, trying and failing to pull her arm away.

    ¡°I-I¡¯m not sure, Elara. Legendary potions can have all kinds of miraculous effects, permanently altering the attributes of the people who drink them. All I know for now is that my body changes on its own to avoid danger.¡±

    Elara ran the naturally black nail at the tip of her pointer finger across her chin, nodding slowly as she did so.

    ¡°I see¡­ We¡¯ll need to add this to our training. Your ability is a trump card against purely physical fighters, but until you learn how to fight, you won¡¯t be much of a threat.¡±

    Pom¡¯s eyes widened slightly as she snapped her head toward Elara.

    ¡°F-Fight?! I thought I could take on more of a s-support role! You know, making potions and stuff.¡±

    Elara pursed her lips and finally released Pom¡¯s arm, shrugging.

    ¡°That¡¯s fine, but you still need to learn to fight. Emergencies happen in this business. Sooner or later, everyone gets forced into a fight.¡±

    A wave of anxiety washed over Pom as she considered Elara¡¯s words.

    Noticing her unease, Anthony placed a hand on her shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Pom. We¡¯ll stick together no matter what happens. Even if you have to fight, you won¡¯t be alone.¡± His voice carried as much reassurance as he could muster.

    It seemed to work. The anxious look faded from Pom¡¯s face, and after glancing at the hand on her shoulder, she nodded firmly. A bright smile spread across her face as she looked up at Anthony.

    The group stood in front of the town square¡¯s notice board. Elara had decided that the best way for them to learn to work together¡ªwas to work together. Pressing her black lips together, she scanned the board filled with notices, tracing a finger across the words as she read.

    ¡°Perfect!¡±

    Her focused expression shifted to satisfaction as she ripped a sheet of paper from the board, waving it in front of Anthony and Pom.

    ¡°It¡¯s probably a bit too easy for us, but it¡¯s our first mission together, and it¡¯s just for training anyway.¡±

    Anthony and Pom quickly scanned the notice in Elara¡¯s hand.

    <hr>

    Reward for Extermination! One Silver!

    A small group of goblins has taken up residence in the abandoned mill near the southeast side of town.

    Bring proof of extermination along with this notice to the town hall to collect your reward!

    <hr>

    Anthony rubbed his chin as he read the notice, nodding at Elara after seeing what she had chosen.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    ¡°Okay, that should be easy enough.¡±

    Pom nodded as well, though the way her fingers tightened around the straps of her heavy backpack betrayed her nervousness.

    Wasting no time, the group swiftly made their way to the old mill. The property had been abandoned ever since a rockslide diverted the river that once powered its waterwheel, rendering the entire structure useless.

    As they approached, Elara devised a plan.

    ¡°We¡¯ll set up at the entrance and lure them out with smoke. We can pick them off one by one as they come running out.¡±

    Anthony and Pom nodded their approval as they quietly approached the building. They could already hear movement inside, so they didn¡¯t hesitate.

    Elara spent a minute carefully conjuring a spell Anthony had never seen her use before, whispering softly as she pointed toward the structure. Soon, a thick billow of smoke poured from the tip of her finger.

    This smoke was different from the vapor-like dark mist she had used before to obscure their location. Instead, it was a harsh, acrid smog that burned the lungs and eyes. Anthony¡¯s own eyes watered from just a casual whiff, making him glad he wouldn¡¯t be the one forced to breathe it¡ªunlike the goblins inside.

    Anthony took position beside the door, sword raised high, while Elara stood on the opposite side, dagger in hand. A few feet away, Pom clutched Elara¡¯s spare dagger in one hand and a vial of unknown liquid in the other.

    As the smog filled the building, an angry roar echoed from inside, followed by the heavy scratching of claws against wood. The floor trembled beneath the creature¡¯s movements.

    Elara¡¯s eyes widened as the deep growl reached her ears. She clenched her teeth and took a wary step back.

    ¡°Damn it! That¡¯s not a goblin! Be careful!¡±

    The loud, scraping steps grew closer. Anthony¡¯s muscles tensed, his grip tightening around the hilt of his freshly sharpened sword.

    Then, suddenly, the cloud of smoke at the entrance exploded outward as a large body barreled through.

    A juvenile male warg came charging out of the building, a half-eaten goblin still clamped between its powerful jaws.

    The beast was a monstrous mix of wolf and demon, its shaggy orange fur bristling around its thickly muscled neck. It was massive¡ªits back nearly reaching Anthony¡¯s chest as it lunged from the smoky interior with terrifying speed.

    Elara¡¯s dagger shimmered with a soft green glow as she drove it deep into the warg¡¯s flank. The weapon was ripped from her grasp as the beast surged forward, the blade remaining embedded in its backside.

    Anthony¡¯s sword struck the warg square in the chest, carving a deep laceration that immediately began to pour blood. The creature let out a heavy whimper before instinct took over, and it charged toward the first enemy it saw.

    Pom¡¯s eyes widened in panic as the monstrous, demonic wolf lunged at her with a furious snarl.

    She forgot to throw her potion. The warg¡¯s massive body crashed into her, knocking the dagger from her grasp as her form instantly dissolved into a pile of pink slime.

    The beast hesitated, its snarl faltering as it tried to bite into the strange gelatinous mass. No matter how hard it clamped down, the substance simply slipped away, reforming as if untouched.

    Growing frustrated, the warg snapped at the pink slime repeatedly¡ªuntil its teeth finally sank into something solid.

    The potion bottle.

    With a crunch, its powerful jaws shattered the glass, spilling the potion¡¯s contents into its mouth.

    A sudden, panicked whimper tore from the creature¡¯s throat as a bright flash of light erupted from within. Moments later, flickering flames began to spread inside the warg¡¯s maw. It shook its head violently, thrashing from side to side in a desperate attempt to rid itself of the burning sensation.

    Anthony seized the opportunity. Rushing forward, he lunged and drove the tip of his blade deep into the beast¡¯s ribcage.

    The warg howled in pain and spun with all its might, slamming into Anthony and sending him flying through the air¡ªstraight onto the soft, slimy pink cushion nearby.

    Elara picked up Pom''s dropped dagger and stepped forward to attack, but the warg, now grievously wounded, turned and bolted down the dried-up creek bed, fleeing with a dagger and a sword still lodged in its body. A thick trail of blood marked its path as it vanished into the distance.

    Elara let out a heavy sigh, watching the creature escape before turning to check on her companions¡ªonly to freeze at the sight before her.

    Pom¡¯s body was reforming, her limbs and hair returning¡ªentirely tangled up with Anthony.

    Pom¡¯s face turned beet red as she scrambled to untangle herself. When Anthony had landed, his hand had sunk into her gelatinous form. But now that she was back to normal, the slime wrapped around his hand had become¡­ her shirt.

    ¡°S-Sorry!¡± Anthony blurted, instinctively pulling his hand back¡ªonly to accidentally yank Pom¡¯s shirt up with it.

    ¡°Eeeeek!¡± Pom squealed, trying to pull her shirt back down, but her arms were pinned beneath Anthony¡¯s legs, leaving her helplessly exposed. She could do nothing but shriek in embarrassment.

    Elara snorted, trying¡ªand utterly failing¡ªto hold back her laughter. A spray of spit shot from her tightly sealed black lips as she struggled to keep it in.

 17 - Magic Ingredients!

    The three companions walked down the dried-up creek bed deeper into the forest, following the trail of blood in silence. The blush still covered Pom¡¯s face as she tightly crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to look at Anthony or Elara as she followed behind them.

    ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m really sorry, Pom¡­ I hope you know it was an accident.¡±

    Pom turned her head away as Anthony looked back at her, but she slowly glanced up toward him after he had looked away. The look in her eyes made it clear she was preparing to say something.

    After another quarter-mile of silent hiking, Pom finally stepped up beside Anthony and broke the silence.

    ¡°Do you want to make it up to me?¡±

    Anthony¡¯s eyelid opened a bit wider at the suggestion, as he swiftly nodded his head.

    ¡°Of course!¡±

    Pom nodded in satisfaction at his answer, staring ahead at the trail as she began to speak.

    ¡°Then will you talk about how you¡¯re feeling? It hasn''t been long at all since you were forced to kill your own stepfather, and you haven¡¯t said a word about it since it happened. We all just went on about our business like nothing happened. Well, something did happen. Something awful...¡±

    Anthony let out a deep sigh as he looked away from the big brown eyes staring up at him from Pom''s face, rubbing the back of his head as he responded.

    ¡°Well¡­ I don¡¯t know why exactly, but I don¡¯t feel as bad as I probably should about it. Something weird happened to my cultivation method when he confessed to being responsible for my mother''s death. It¡¯s like some of the bad emotions I should be feeling got sucked up into the ball of power in my head.¡±

    A look of concern spread across Pom¡¯s face as Anthony revealed the reason behind his seemingly untroubled mood.

    ¡°Is that really okay? Humans are supposed to get sad when bad things happen.¡±, Pom questioned softly.

    Anthony waved his hand dismissively at her remark.

    ¡°I can still feel sad; it''s just¡­ it¡¯s just not unbearable like it used to be. I spent the last ten years of my life doing nothing but being sad all the time. It was so bad that I didn¡¯t want to live anymore. Compared to that, the sadness I feel now is like a pleasant breeze.¡±

    Pom¡¯s brows furrowed as she stared up at Anthony¡¯s face. She opened her mouth to say something else, but Elara beat her to it.

    ¡°You¡¯re thinking too much, Pom. Edgar knows what he is doing. If he gave that cultivation method to Anthony, then it¡¯s for the best. Now quit with all the distractions; we are getting close.¡±

    Elara¡¯s grin widened as she reached down and picked up the dagger she had lost earlier. The warg must have eventually shook it out while moving through this area. She casually tossed the blade to Anthony so he wouldn''t be unarmed any longer as they continued through the forest.

    The trail of blood grew thicker as they walked, evidence that the creature was slowing down more and more as it moved through the area, allowing the blood dripping from it to pool in larger puddles on the ground.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°Are you sure that poison magic was strong enough to finish it off? If this thing is still alive, we will be walking up on a very angry, injured beast,¡± Anthony commented as he examined the sleek dagger in his hand.

    Elara gave him a thumbs up as she tilted her chin toward the sky, a bright smile spreading across her face.

    ¡°You may not know this, but your team leader is a skilled magic user. That poison blade spell I stuck into the flank of the warg could take down a mountain troll.¡± Elara scratched her head after speaking, a look of uncertainty crossing her face. ¡°I mean, not right away, of course. It would probably take a few¡­ uh¡­ weeks.¡±

    Anthony rolled his eyes as he listened to the unhelpful bragging, but his expression turned serious as they spotted the warg¡¯s body just around the next corner.

    The three companions froze in place as they carefully stared at the creature. It lay on its back, its large tongue sticking out of its unmoving mouth, while the whites of its eyes had turned dark green. A thick puddle of blood pooled around the creature''s resting spot.

    Elara glanced over toward Anthony arrogantly as she pressed her hands against her hips, waiting for him to acknowledge that she was right.

    Without saying a word, the young man cautiously stepped forward. The closer he got, the more apparent it became that the creature was truly dead. Letting out a breath as the tension drained from his body, Anthony returned the dagger to Elara and retrieved his sword from the creature''s ribs.

    Elara clapped her hands together once as she spoke.

    ¡°Well done, everyone! It¡¯s not every day that a team of newbies takes down a warg on their own. Even if it was only a juvenile, it¡¯s still an impressive accomplishment! Now we just have to make sure we get paid properly for our service to the town!¡±

    Elara stepped forward with her dagger, chopping hard at the creature¡¯s right ear. The skin was leathery and tough, so it took her a minute to fully remove the extremity.

    As Pom casually walked around the clearing waiting for Elara to finish, a sudden gasp escaped her lips, and she quickly covered her mouth with both hands.

    Anthony and Elara looked up to see their companion standing wide-eyed as she stared at a cluster of purple mushrooms growing on the side of a nearby tree.

    Elara¡¯s eyes narrowed as she glanced from Pom to the odd-looking fungus, her mercenary instincts kicking in as she sensed the presence of something valuable.

    ¡°What is it, Pom? Did you find something good?¡±

    The color drained from Pom¡¯s face as she began looking around warily, stepping over toward her companions swiftly as a whisper escaped her lips.

    ¡°That¡¯s a magical ingredient¡ªit shouldn¡¯t be here. They are almost always protected by demonic creatures!¡±

    Elara and Anthony exchanged glances before both their eyes shot toward the dead warg in unison.

    ¡°You mean¡­ like that one?¡± Elara said casually as she pointed the tip of her dagger at the dead warg.

    Pom pushed her glasses up as she stared down at the body of the warg, blinking rapidly as a look of realization spread over her face.

    ¡°Y-yeah, actually. Exactly like that one!¡±

    The fear disappeared from Pom¡¯s voice, replaced by eagerness as she quickly rushed back over toward the purple mushrooms.

    Pulling the heavy pack off her back, Pom retrieved a small container and a tool that looked like a small shovel with a sharpened yet rounded tip.

    She used the shovel to casually scrape the cluster of mushrooms off the tree, letting them fall broken to the ground, causing looks of uncertainty to spread across her companions¡¯ faces.

    Elara jumped to her feet, pointing a red finger at the mushrooms on the floor.

    ¡°Hey! What gives? You said those were valuable!¡±

    Pom giggled happily as she began to use the tool in her hand to carefully dig away the bark where the mushrooms had been growing. She placed the pieces of bark one by one in the container she had prepared as she responded to Elara¡¯s concern.

    ¡°Yes, but only the roots contain the valuable ingredient; the mushroom heads themselves are worthless. Unless you¡¯re hungry¡ªthey¡¯re quite bitter but edible.¡±

    A look of realization spread over Elara and Anthony as they approached the area where Pom was working.

    ¡°So what is so good about these things? What can you make with them?¡±

    Pom glanced back up at them with an eager smile on her face, clenching her fingers excitedly as she answered, ¡°Beast charming potions!¡±

 18 -Nightfall

    Elara stomped out of the town hall with a bitter expression on her face, her thick black lips pursed angrily as she approached Anthony and Pom.

    ¡°Those cheap bastards! They refused to pay the full price because it was a juvenile, even though they almost got us killed by sending us up against a warg when we were only prepared to face goblins!¡±

    Elara let out a frustrated breath as she handed one silver coin each to Anthony and Pom.

    ¡°They only wanted to give us three silver, but I convinced them to bump it up to four when I mentioned that we are part of Edgar¡¯s troop. I¡¯m keeping two silver because I¡¯m the leader.¡±

    No one complained about Elara¡¯s distribution of the rewards; they were happy enough to have received four times what they had expected for the goblin-hunting mission.

    Elara put one hand up to shield her eyes as she glanced at the setting sun. After noting the approaching darkness she turned and asked her two subordinates about their plans for the night.

    ¡°We have spare rooms at the inn right now¡ªno one is using them while Edgar¡¯s team is hunting in the mountains. You are both welcome to spend the night with me, or you can do whatever you want and meet me in the morning.¡±

    Pom decided to head back to her family''s shop; she wanted to spend as much time with them as she could before leaving, and it would be easier to create her beast-taming potion with the large array of apothecary equipment her family owned.

    Anthony followed Elara back to the inn. With his stepfather dead and his family home sold, he had nowhere else to go. When they reached the inn, Elara bought him some dinner out of her share of the rewards as a celebration for completing their first mission together.

    While the two sat at the table finishing their meal, a group of men at the bar kept glancing over toward Elara. They appeared to be drunk and made their rude behavior quite obvious with loud laughter and regular sneers that could not be ignored.

    Anthony recognized the men as a group of hunters he had seen many times before around town, though he wasn¡¯t too familiar with any of them. He watched as Elara did her best to ignore their behavior, but between her furrowed brow and the way she clenched her spoon so tightly, it was obvious that it had ruined her mood.

    As the two finished their meal and headed toward the stairs, one of the hunters stepped into their path. The room fell silent as the group of drunken men stopped talking and watched to see how the interaction would play out.

    The drunken hunter rushed forward, preventing Elara from simply walking past him, and began to speak in that awkward way only drunken men can manage, pointing an unsteady finger at her as he spoke.

    ¡°You¡¯re Edgar¡¯s pet demon, right? What¡ªhic¡ªwhat¡¯s your mother¡¯s name? I figure if she¡¯s willing to bed a demon, I should have a pretty good shot, right?¡±

    A round of laughter erupted throughout the inn from the men at the bar. Elara¡¯s expression instantly darkened as she stared back fiercely at the drunken hunter, raising one hand to stop Anthony from stepping toward him as she responded.

    ¡°You overestimate yourself. You¡¯d better lower your standards to women who bed wargs, at the very least.¡±

    A second, much louder round of laughter filled the room as the drunken hunter¡¯s face turned a deep shade of red, his eyes wide with outrage as he stuttered sloppily while trying to come up with a response.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    Before he could get the words out, the innkeeper stepped up, grabbing the drunken man''s arm and pulling him away from Elara with an angry scowl on his face.

    ¡°You¡¯re done for the night. No one harasses my customers.¡±

    The hunter¡¯s expression shifted to one of impotent bargaining as he began to complain toward the innkeeper.

    ¡°Aww, come on! I¡¯ll shut up, lemme go!¡±

    Anthony and Elara watched as the man was thrown out of the inn before continuing up the stairs toward the rooms. Elara handed Anthony a key to one of the spare rooms as she spoke, not mentioning the scene that had just occurred downstairs.

    ¡°You¡¯re in Garren¡¯s room. Don¡¯t touch his stuff. Get some sleep¡ªEdgar¡¯s team should be back tomorrow, so we¡¯ll probably be heading out.¡±

    After speaking the last word, Elara quickly rushed into her room before Anthony could respond. He stood there for a few seconds, awkwardly staring at the spot where she had just been, before letting out a quiet sigh as he heard soft weeping coming from behind the wooden door.

    Anthony decided to give her the space she obviously needed as he walked toward the room across the hallway, locking the door behind him as he stepped inside. The room was quite messy, with dirty clothing lying on the floor and personal items strewn about.

    At least the bed seemed neat and clean¡ªlikely the work of the innkeeper. Anthony slowly removed his armor and weapon before washing his body as best he could with a bowl of water and a rag in the bathroom. Then he sat cross-legged on the bed, took out his cultivation journal, and began to read.

    [The power that is used to slowly strengthen your body over time can also be wielded in battle once the user has learned proper control over their cultivation nexus. You will need to learn to engage the traumatic memory at will in order to generate the powerful burst of energy needed to empower your attacks. This should only be attempted after the first month of cultivation sessions has passed, giving the user ample time to learn sufficient energy control.]

    Anthony casually rubbed his chin as he read the passage, only now did he belatedly realize what had probably occurred during the fight with his stepfather.

    ¡°Hmm. I guess I engaged the memory by accident because of what he said. Good thing I was able to direct the energy into my sword, or things could have gone very badly for me.¡±

    Placing the journal aside, Anthony closed his eyes and focused on the glowing ball of light floating in his mind. It had grown a bit larger since the incident earlier in the day and seemed to be spinning slightly faster as well.

    He concentrated on drawing the energy into his body, spending the next hour carefully creating the circulation needed to cultivate his body. With the proper amount of energy used in this way, the feeling was quite soothing¡ªlike a warm bath¡ªunlike the uncomfortable burning he had experienced from the previous energy overload.

    According to the journal, it should have taken him at least a few weeks of training to break through into the Initial Trainee realm, but somehow Anthony had done it on his first cultivation session¡ªsecond if you count the one he did accidentally when he first took the potion.

    The journal did explain that more potent traumas would generate more power, but those were also supposed to be nearly impossible to convert into nexus due to the overwhelming emotional burden they placed on the cultivator during the initial nexus creation.

    Somehow, Anthony had managed to turn such a memory into a nexus, allowing him to train at a speed much greater than would normally be possible. Maybe it was due to Bo and his crew interfering at just the right moment?

    He had no way to know for sure. Casting the distracting thoughts from his head, Anthony decided to just be thankful for the powerful cultivation nexus he had created¡ªit would allow him to gain the power he desperately desired much faster than normally possible.

    After cultivating for about an hour, he opened his eyes as he allowed the flow of energy to dissipate. Anthony held out one hand in front of his eyes, slowly clenching and unclenching his fist as he felt the slight increase in the strength of his body.

    A grin couldn¡¯t help but spread across his mouth as he thought about the future, from now on he would be growing stronger and stronger everyday. It truly felt like the world had suddenly opened up to him.