ã€ŠRE: 3001 Paths to Death - A Lite LitRPG Looperã€‹


 1. The Dead Keep Dying

    Death was a real prick. And unlike all the other ninnies out there, I wasn¡¯t afraid to say it¡­ or at least think it out loud in the safe confines of my thoughts.

    I sucked in a slow terrible breath and with the utmost care exhaled. Despite my delicate caution, a piercing pain in my chest caused me to choke and then cough. It took all my power to endure the torment.

    Tears filled my vision, smoke taunted my face, and a loose strand of black hair irritated my face. I fought back a second round of coughing. It was a close battle.

    The burning bloodwoods created a dense cloud of smoke. Their glorious end prolonged my misery and preserved me from the cold hands of death. As fire rained from the bloodwoods¡¯ outstretched limbs, the soaked ground steamed and hissed. It smelled of burning pine, blood, and stress.

    My vision blurred as towering trees came to life. The red golems hurled boulders at cultivators and foreign beings with otherworldly faces.

    The fools fought back in vain. Death was a cruel, careless crisis that no one avoided. The cultivators wasted their efforts fighting for more¡ªan illusive dream of immortality. There was no escaping the callous hand.

    My fight was finished. Selene¡¯s abyss. I could barely hold my head up.

    The haze of war cloaked the field. Light battled dark, ripping the power from the controlling hand and dispelling the silent energy. Mana flooded out. The Bloodwood Forest was torn apart. As ten lifeless beings walked away, death soaked the barren grounds once lush with life.

    Death won in the end. It always did. I¡¯ve lived through this battle a hundred times now. The ending was still the same. Death was power and devoured all¡­

    But what did I know? I was just victim number one in this cruel fight. Or was I number two? Some details were a bit lost. I was the remaining survivor of the callous battle. The first to fall and the last to die. Too weak to be given the mercy of a fast death. Too weak to be noticed as alive. Embraced by death only to be pushed away. Calloused. Cold. Cruel.

    Was it a fool''s hope to want more?

    Although I was on my last breaths, dying would be different this time. One hundred-one was my new lucky number. Unlike my previous deaths, where I struggled and flailed on my bloodwood pike, this time, I was slightly more content with my post. Sure, the excruciating pain was still there; that hadn¡¯t changed. This time, however, I struggled less. My current theory was that being staked was like one of those mysterious quicksand scenarios. The more one struggled, the quicker one sank.

    I breathed in slowly and exhaled. No coughing this time. Good.

    The damned optimist in me swore the pain hurt less than what had become so uncomfortably familiar. So, maybe I was on the right path. Slowly in. Softly out. I pushed past the point of dying. Every breath set a new record of longevity. Five. Ten. Fifteen. Thirty. I was confident now I had perfected my breathing technique. It was quite a terrible feat.

    As I pushed the boundaries of my extended miserable life, I witnessed a new terror. A squid man¡¯s face reached for me.

    I trembled.

    The strange bipedal octopus wore a turquoise battle robe, shell pauldrons, and an inverted crown helm. He laid five feet in front of me where he¡¯d died in battle. Never had my grave neighbor moved before. Now his bluish hands gripped into the mud. As Squids inched himself forward, his arm shook with great intensity. Inch by inch, the strange creature crawled his limp body closer. Each pull of his arm his face tentacles flayed violently toward me.

    My palms were sweaty and I¡¯d be running if I wasn¡¯t so staked to my property.

    Acting on gut instincts, I swatted his face tentacles away¡ªjust as any normal person would. I wasn¡¯t in the mood for this weird stuff. Despite my natural strength and high dexterity, I swatted unsuccessfully.

    Tentacles wrapped his unnatural beard around my arm. The man-fish used my arm as leverage, pulling his dead body closer. More tentacles latched on, covering my face in unholiness. Time stopped as he held me in an all-encompassing embrace.

    I hated it. I wanted to scream. Proudly, I held back¡ªignoring the fact that I couldn¡¯t.

    As if experiencing life on a pole several times wasn¡¯t enough, my face was getting sucked or eaten by a human squid. It was teeth-grindingly painful. Bright lights flashed in my mind. I gasped for air, only to choke on a mouth full of vile thick liquids.

    Damn my perfect breathing technique.

    My limp hands reached for the nightmare violating my last breaths of life. At first, I tried to pull the tentacles off. Then I threw punches that bounced off the rubbery squid man. When that didn¡¯t work, I clawed my nails into his flesh. Tickling his back would¡¯ve been more effective.

    I tried channeling my mana so I could ice-spike my way out of this madness. My plight was hopeless. Not even my deep bag of curses could dislodge the monster.

    Light pulsed in rapid flashes, growing brighter each time. I squeezed the squid as scorching pain raced through my body from thrashing on my pike.

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    Then darkness. A black abyss surrounded me. I no longer felt any pain. In fact, there was almost a peaceful tint in the air. I¡¯d been doing a lot of dying lately. This wasn¡¯t dying. This was different. My body was in an ethereal state of being. I existed and didn¡¯t exist, present by not all there.

    What was the squid doing to me? His actions couldn¡¯t be moral.

    ¡°You humans¡­¡± A voice cracked the silence, booming in my ear. It was old, hollow, and had a strange accent that was not Helmish. ¡°... are such an inferior species.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± I asked into the void, with an accidental snap in my tone. I searched the darkness for the source and found only emptiness. I tried to reach out with my mana to catch a hint of energy. My attempt bore no fruit.

    ¡°No flayen ever struggled to grasp the concept of recursion as much as you.¡± The flayen¡¯s startling, loud voice behind me caused me to repeat myself.

    ¡°What?¡± I turned to catch this so-called flayen. I looked up and down, finding nothing.

    A tingle ran down my back¡ªanother false alarm. No matter how fast I turned, I met emptiness, and yet all my senses tinged, warning me of the flayen¡¯s presence.

    Squids were so gross. Hardly even tasted good, and that was only if you had the right combination of sauces and a strong drink to chase it.

    ¡°Inferior and insufferable,¡± the mysterious calamari said, his voice haunting me once more.

    I didn¡¯t like this ghost and fought back the only way I could. ¡°Technically, I¡¯m an orc.¡±

    ¡°That does not matter.¡± Calamari said, dodging my verbal riposte.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t.¡± I said, cutting away the space he tried to create from the subject. Conversations were always an intense battle. In my earlier years, I fought hard to avoid them. I couldn¡¯t afford to do so now that I was locked in a battle of wits with a formidable foe. ¡°Figured you¡¯d want your facts right if you¡¯re gonna profane an entire species.¡±

    Judging by the flayen¡¯s stupor, my crushing words won me an insignificant victory. Now that I had the high ground, I could go on the offense. I carefully calculated my question. ¡°What did you do to me?¡±

    ¡°I possessed you¡­ At least, I tried to.¡± Calamari¡¯s response was quick, poignant and had a hint of waning pride. It held just enough truth to shake my confidence. The aura of a smug octopus smirk clouded my senses. It was like my body was covered in thick black filth.

    What a bastard smile.

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s what we¡¯re calling it? Gross. What happened? Tentacles lacked proper grip? Got cold feet? Didn¡¯t like what you see? Performance issues¡­?¡± I threw out questions like jabs. No way was I letting this monster possess me. It didn¡¯t matter that I was dying. This body was mine. My own.

    Calamari clicked his tongue as if he were sighing. I might¡¯ve hit a nerve.

    ¡°Where are you, anyway?¡± I asked. ¡°Why can¡¯t I see you? I need to punch something.¡±

    ¡°I am dead, and so are you,¡± the squid said. ¡°At least you will be. We are in your mindscape¡ªsomething your small orc brain knows nothing about.¡±

    I caught a hint of another bastardly smile. Words weren¡¯t enough. I pictured the image of the flayens face. It was soft, blue, and perfect for punching. All my willpower went into the through and I pulled it into existence.

    ¡°H-he-hey¡­ wa-wait,¡± the tentacle face said, panic lacing his words. Shock evident in his opened beak-mouth and wide eyes.

    My hands formed out of the ether. I held the flayen and started punching. It was every bit as satisfying as I thought it would be.

    ¡°Listen, slimy sucker...¡± Not my best shot, sure. I was so far outside my realm of comfort that I had to rely on base impulses. ¡°It sounds like you can only belittle me because my inferior mind allows you to¡­ since you¡¯re dead.¡± My last punch landed so hard the flayen fell to the ground, tentacles flailing like hands.

    ¡°You are on the last legs of life yourself.¡± Tentacles propped himself, trying his hardest to look unfazed.

    ¡°Dying isn¡¯t dead, and I outlived you,¡± I said, feeling confidence and power backing my words. ¡°Stop your self-aggrandizement, or be gone. As you noticed, I¡¯m busy dying here.¡±

    Tentacles eyed me with an astonished expression. Maybe I had gained his respect. That or he feared me, if only just a little.  ¡°You are not the quiet, reserved lad you used to be,¡± he said.

    Did Squids know me? How? My mind raced. I guess we were kinda coffin brothers if we discounted the fact that neither of us were in a coffin¡ªas well as only one of us was dead. So maybe half-coffin brothers. Might be a stretch, but it was like what the blood-hungry zealots of Ao were always saying, ¡®Dying was uniting.¡¯ Was Squids a believer?

    ¡°Well, a hundred lives would change a man.¡± I wasn¡¯t a believer and responded with snark.

    Oh, have I changed¡ªmore snark and more vocal. Dying birthed my inner cynic. No longer content with being a side character, a brilliant voice rose to triumph in an era of unreserved criticism¡ªas if it were the dying caterpillar¡¯s one last attempt at life not prone to crawl around¡ª

    ¡°Two hundred.¡± Calamari cut my revelation short. ¡°It took a hundred deaths before you stopped passing out immediately. And calling it ¡®lives¡¯ is generous. You barely breathed on the stake with how much you squirmed.¡±

    The flayen had knowledge of my loops. Had Squids been involved the whole time, and I didn¡¯t notice before? I did last longer in this life than I ever had. Was squids the cause of the loops? I needed more time to think through the implications.

    ¡°I was merely trying to break free of my cocoon,¡± I said, trying to square my thoughts away.

    ¡°What?¡± Squids asked. ¡°No, do not answer that. We are running out of time, and I have yet to make my offer.¡±

    ¡°What offer?¡± I asked.

    ¡°To live.¡±

    ¡°I refuse.¡±

    ¡°Too late,¡± Squids said.

    Ao¡¯s bloody pits. ¡°That doesn¡¯t count as an offer.¡± I balled my fists and walked towards the propped up flayen.

    ¡°I have already given you full authority over this recursion. I am sending you what memories that I can. Sir Kainoa¡ª¡±

    My steps halted. Squids didn¡¯t just know about my loops. Somehow, he knew who I was. Hearing my former name was almost the oddest part of this cycle. I buried that name five years ago in the same pit of betrayal where my old squad died. The name Kainoa died with them and I hadn¡¯t heard it since. It was a different life, a different time.

    Memories forgotten threatened to resurface and haunt the peace I¡¯d fought to establish. I pushed the intrusive thoughts away, returning to the battle with my new tormenter.

    ¡°¡ªI am giving you an incredible opportunity.¡± The flayen dragged his body away from me in a hurried motion. He spoke fast, without pause. ¡°Do not squander it. Please, be nice to my people. They are coming, and you will need their help.¡± The flayen landed his final blow, layering it with mystery and subterfuge.

    Squid''s uncomfortable presence vanished from my mind. Not even a goodbye or anything. All the flayen left me was a massive headache, blurry vision, and sharp painful tearing in my heart.

    Comforting. Familiar. I exhaled softly. Selene¡¯s sweet abyss¡­ I was finally dying.

    Life was back to normal.

    Silly me. Everyone knew prime numbers couldn¡¯t be lucky. One hundred-two¡ªnow that was a lucky number¡ªsexy, even. Or was it two hundred-two? That felt pretty lucky as well. Life faded. I breathed my last breath.

    ¡°Hello, death.¡± I welcomed the prickly end to all things and clenched my body to prepare for another terrible life on my stake.

 2. Hello Death My Old Friend

    I didn¡¯t die. Doubt and disbelief enveloped me in a hazy miasma¡ªa messy state of being that made no sense. I felt like my body was suspended in thought. None of this made any sense, and I was long past the questioning stage. Selene¡¯s sweet abyss, if I wasn¡¯t so stubborn, I¡¯d been two phases past doubt, too.

    No, not stubbornness; that wasn¡¯t the right word. It¡¯d come to me. I knew it would. I just wasn¡¯t sure when. Arrogance¡­ pride? No, those couldn¡¯t be it. The word danced at the tip¡ª

    ¡°Are you done with your meandering thoughts?¡± A familiar voice asked from beyond the veil. ¡°Yes, I am dead. This is the memory fragment I left with you. Consider it my gift and curse. So, can we begin?¡± The flayen¡¯s voice lacked something that I couldn¡¯t quite place.

    ¡°Begin what?¡± I pictured the flayen and prepared for another fight. So, I wasn¡¯t past the stage of questioning. I blamed that on Squids, though.

    ¡°Training,¡± Squids said. ¡°And do not waste your time trying to fight me. I am truly dead.¡±

    ¡°Then how can you train me?¡± I asked. How¡¯re we even talking?¡± Like before, I pictured the flayen and pulled him into existence. Only it didn¡¯t work. I tried again and again. More willpower. More energy. The same lackluster results.

    ¡°We are not talking, per-se,¡± Squids said. ¡°This conversation was all scripted. I got... comfortable in your mind, ran scenarios, and then left you an extensive library of information. Based on this line of conversation, my readings were correct.¡±

    ¡°I feel violated.¡±

    ¡°As do I.¡± The flayen¡¯s words sounded empty. That was it. His voice lacked any emotion. ¡°Humans are disgusting. I can not believe the things you do to each other.¡±

    ¡°Again¡­¡±

    ¡°Not human. I know, and I knew you were going to say that. So here we are. The gift of a god is at your disposal, and you are wasting time.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d argue we were rushing into things, " I said. ¡°What¡¯s the point?¡±

    ¡°To live,¡± the flayen said. ¡°Allow me to help you escape death.¡±

    ¡°Why help me? Why not someone else.¡±

    ¡°My options were limited,¡± Squids said in his scripted voice.

    ¡°And what do you get out of this?¡±

    ¡°I am merely acting in good faith. If I help you now, maybe in a few years you can help my people or at the very least treat them kindly.¡±

    I wanted to question everything; more than that, I wanted to defy this parasite¡ªto kick against the prick. Regardless, I held my tongue and wrestled with my thoughts. Could I live? Did I want to? Could I trust the flayen¡­ even a little?

    What did I have to lose? Some pride, but I was hardly the proud type. People needed to be successful to be proud. I was middling at best, and that was because I was failing at well¡­ failure. Despite my futile efforts, for the last few years, life had smiled kindly upon me. I had friends, a home, and my business. That was before all the murder in the woods. Now my friends were dead, and I couldn¡¯t join them leaving me alone, stuck with my dilemma.

    I could go along with the schemes of a belittling <i>god </i>or resist and continue to die on my faithless stake. I was tired of surviving. More than that, deep down, an unwelcome seed sprouted.

    ¡°Alright, Tentacles, I¡¯m open to some training,¡± I said, donning a patched mask of resolve.

    As my friend always said, ¡®It¡¯s best to wade into trenches head first.¡¯ The saying served Moloki well, earning him power and prestige as he pushed headstrong through any barriers on his path. That was until Mol died head-down in a trench buried under the might of mana¡ªas did the rest of my old squad.

    I dispelled my resurging. My resolve was already slipping. I hated death and how it messed with my thoughts. Death and squids were both on my disgruntled list.

    ¡°<i>Ex</i>-cellent,¡± Calamari said. The extra emphasis on the first syllable didn¡¯t go unnoticed. ¡°Now, stop resisting me with your mind. I am going to expand it.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Cal¡¯s words didn¡¯t sit right. ¡°Wait¡­ no.¡± My mask shattered.

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    ¡°First, you need to relax,¡± the squid said in his low-guttural voice that had a small hint of eagerness. The hairs on the back of my neck raised at the thought of Squids grinning in ecstasy, anticipating access to my mind.

    ¡°That¡¯s not helping,¡± I said.

    ¡°Get comfortable.¡± Cal¡¯s voice was emotionless once more.

    ¡°I can¡¯t. I won¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°If you do not relax, I can not begin.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the point,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t want you messing with my mind. Find another way.¡±

    ¡°Take a deep breath and calm down.¡± The flayen¡¯s <i>script </i>speech wasn¡¯t helping. ¡±This is all working precisely as I had planned it.¡±

    My breaths were short, shallow, and ragged. I wasn¡¯t calm¡ªI was anything but calm. As far as I was concerned, I¡¯d never entertain the squid¡¯s whims.

    I was no longer in an ethereal state of mind. Rather I was somewhat in a world of inbetween the physical and mental realm. Spiked on a stake but not quite present.

    I waited for what felt like ages for Squids to <i>train</i> me in a less pervasive way. Passing days whittled my resistance. I found myself trapped in an empty state with no way out but to <i>relax</i>.

    I squirmed under the false pretense that I could find comfort. I couldn¡¯t. It hurt. I sighed, which also hurt, and stopped trying to get comfortable. The lack of effort, or probably more so the lack of movement, allowed me to return to the painful contentment I was at before. I held back a sigh of relief and¡ª

    ¡°I meant your mind,¡± The flayen said. ¡°Relax and ease your mind. Allow yourself to be open to new ideas. Stop putting up walls. Doubt, hesitation, fear¡­ push them aside. You are safe. Your mind is safe.¡±

    ¡°You need to stop talking.¡± We might be coffin brothers, but Squids pushed it too far. I didn¡¯t feel safe.

    ¡°I will guide you to enlightenment.¡± It felt like tentacles held my head, pulling it in a determined direction.

    ¡°You¡¯re making it worse.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± Tentacles said after a pause. ¡°You know what to do. I will be here waiting for you to consent to my power. Prepare your mind for the fulness of my glory.¡±

    Tentacles was cracked. I was absolutely sure of it. To think I was supposed to open myself up to him¡­ all my reservations coated me in thick armor. There was no way I could relax now.

    <b>****</b>

    It took a couple more deaths on my spike before I could put my mind at ease. No outcome could be worse than what I was already experiencing. I had to forget pike and parasite, dispelling all the fear and hesitation from my mind, and put my faith in a hopeful future.

    Watering seeds of hope was a perilous game. A game played by people who liked getting hurt and the brave. I was neither. However, I reigned in my fear and hesitation.

    Breathe in slowly. Exhale softly. In and out. I found comfort in my rhythmic breaths. It became my focus¡ªa song to get lost to. In and out. The spike wasn¡¯t so bad. I could get used to it. Slowly. Softly. I faded out of <i>being</i>.

    <b>****</b>

    I <i>woke</i> up in an empty space of soft white walls, ceiling, and floor. The light created no shadows nor reflected off any of the barren walls. No matter where I looked in the enclosed room, I couldn¡¯t find the source of the light. Also not present in the empty room were pikes; beyond that, there was no death here. In fact, I couldn¡¯t sense any mana, which was peculiar.

    Mana was always prevalent. Death, mana, and power¡ªthe trinity of what was and always would be. Yet, here in this room, all three were absent.

    Did I finally reach the abyss or was I suspended in my mind¡ªtrapped in thought?

    Regardless of where I was at, for the first time in what felt like years, I stretched without feeling excruciating pain. Even breathing was a euphoric experience. I was finally free from pain and torment. I let out a chuckle. The chuckle turned to laughter, laughter turned to weeping, and weeping ended with a soft smile.

    I took my time stretching, checking my body to ensure it still functioned. The simple exercise was an essential practice of body cultivation. More than that, it just felt good to move again. After I completed my stretches, I walked around the confined space and focused on my mind and spirit. Even though I couldn¡¯t access any mana, my soul remained intact. More relief flooded through me. Water mana was still bound to my soul. If I could break free of this room¡­

    I grimaced at the thought. Could one even escape hell? Was this even hell? I didn¡¯t feel like I was dead dead, but I certainly wasn¡¯t on the spike¡­ or was I? Tentacles had a way of messing with my thoughts. He called it a mindscape.

    I came to the conclusion that I was either dead or wasn¡¯t. If I wasn¡¯t dead, I might have another chance at life. I just needed to break out of this room. The sprouting seed of hope began to take root.

    Before I could nourish the seed, whispers of despair drowned it. <i>¡°There is no life outside these walls. Only pain and torment.¡±</i> Apathy¡ªa hollow armor that once protected me¡ªbeckoned me to adorn it once more. It offered safety and comfort. I knew the whispers spoke the truth, and its peace enticed me. However, I wanted more than to live in an empty state. I didn¡¯t want to just exist. I wanted to live. <i>¡°But what life would I have? All that I wanted was dead.¡±</i>

    As the words settled in I found comfort in acceptance. There was power in letting the world be as it was. The struggle for more ceased to exist. In a way it was exalting.

    No. That could only ever be a hollow shell. I wanted more. If I could survive, maybe my friends could as well. Lana could live.

    I scoured the room lit by no light, like a man crawling through the desert searching for salvation. I searched every part of the room, high and low, looking for a way out. Hours passed. I found no solution. I called Tentacles several times and received no answer. If this was a puzzle, I failed to solve it. More time passed, and then the room collapsed.

    Confronted by harrowing pain, I gasped. Ao¡¯s bloody damn pits. I was back on the pike. So it wasn¡¯t the abyss. I sighed in relief.

    Then I died.

    When the cycle¡­ no, Tenty called it a recursion. When the recursion began again, instead of gasping in pain from my spike, I found myself back in the prison of my mind. I died three more times. My walls remained apathetic.

 3. The Test of Time

    At the start of my fourth mind prison loop I didn¡¯t bother searching the blank space. I scoured all of it during the last recursions. Instead, I walked straight to the wall before me and started punching.

    I was a level nine cultivator. I ranked above the average cultivator and was considered a squire¡ªa professional. Technique honed my strength, and the blood of my orc ancestors gave me power.

    I whipped my fist through the air and smashed it into the wall with all my strength. A punch capable of cracking boulders smashed the wall in silence. No sound echoed from the impact, not even a hollow thud. Pain didn¡¯t register in my fist, nor did any reverberation in my bones or arm.

    I punched the wall. It felt like hitting nothing. I struck again and again. I didn¡¯t know what else to do or how to escape my mindscape, so I punched into nothing. When I died and returned to the blank space of my mind prison, I picked a different wall and punched some more.

    It wasn¡¯t my proudest moment.

    The unfeeling wall stood before me, so it became the target of all my angst. Perhaps my hollow shell frustrated me because it was no longer obtainable as it once was.

    After witnessing my marine squad die years ago, I sought the refuge of emptiness. I lived peacefully in the quiet shell. Then, a ray of sun entered my life, and I discovered warmth. I tried to avoid it at first, crawling into a hole to hide away. The sun shined anyway and found me in the darkest pits.

    I smothered that light when I led my friends into an infernal forest where monsters fought. We were ants among giants. Each time life brought me back, I watched my friends die until the details stained my memory. I wanted to forget but couldn¡¯t let go.

    First, it was Sasha who suffered the same earth impalement as me. Rocky obliterated into a puff of mana. Flint froze and shattered. Flames engulfed Lana¡ªa sight not even closed eyes spared me from witnessing. As she burned, the world darkened.

    Each life, I tried to grow indifferent. I reached for numbness, finding solace only in death. Calluses grew, but the pain was always prevalent. Even in my darkest hours, the sun continued to shine. I hated the light for its lasting embrace, and I hated myself for not being able to let it go.

    How could I let them go? Although my memories brought me great pain, they were all I had left of her. Time slipped away in the room of empty light. I cursed the emptiness. If I couldn¡¯t be numb like it, the room would endure my wrath until my anger tempered.

    If this was a test, I had truly failed. I didn¡¯t care. I kept punching¡ªwall after wall, life after death.

    The only solace I found in the prison of my mind was my recursion no longer started on the pike. When I died, a black abyss swallowed me, and I¡¯d wake up in this damned state.

    Eventually, I either ran out of walls to punch or reasons. My fists no longer formed. I surrendered to solitude and wept.

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    Time worked a number on my soul once I allowed it. As time unraveled mine. I collected the broken parts only for them to slip from inadequate hands. Still, I tried to catch every part of myself that fell to the abyss.

    In the struggle to piece myself together, I learned I wasn¡¯t angry at the space for its hollowness nor that it was unattainable. Despite the pain embedded in my soul, I feared the emptiness consuming me. It was so easy to exist in a hollow state. Peaceful. Safe.

    When I felt I was on the verge of slipping, a burning sliver of light deep within my heart, battled back the black abyss. I could feel Lana¡¯s warmth as long as I kept that ember alive. As long as I held on, I¡¯d never be empty.

    Anger faded, sadness dissipated, and my fear melted. I clutched onto hope, pouring all of my willpower into the growing seed.

    I would save my friends. I found new solace in the thought and dedicated myself to a fool¡¯s hope. Death claimed my friends, but life preserved me. Live for them; became my mantra. I would escape from this prison and then save my friends. Whatever Tents did to me, he¡¯d given me a chance. That was all I needed.

    I walked to one wall and sat. My apathetic enemy became my back support as I dived into meditation. I had no answers for this mindscape. All I could do was reflect. I replayed the disastrous day in my thoughts. With no success, I delved even deeper. Countless thoughts focused on Tenty and everything he said to me. I recalled our conversation over and over.

    Stop resisting me with your mind¡­ If you do not relax, I can not begin. Take a deep breath and calm down¡­ Ease your mind. Allow yourself to be open to new ideas. Stop putting up walls. Doubt, hesitation, fear¡­ push them aside. You are safe. Your mind is safe. I will guide you to enlightenment¡­ Prepare yourself for the fullness of my glory.

    The conversation wasn¡¯t helpful. I turned my focus further inward and examined the pathways of my mind, hoping to find an answer there. These paths were essential for mind cultivation. Survival was the mind¡¯s inherent need to live. Intelligence was the mind¡¯s purpose. Wisdom was the mind¡¯s armor.

    To reach the rank of squire, I cultivated the paths of survival and wisdom, gaining three levels in survival and two in wisdom. I already had one level of intelligence. Every three levels gained added another layer to the soul, allowing the mana bound inside to expand.

    I expected to see three layers of my soul¡ªthree levels of body and six levels of mind. My soul, indeed, had three layers filled with water mana. However, a new layer wrapped my core as well¡­

    I had four layers? When did I gain three more levels? There had never been enough time to train during my spike recursions, and I¡¯d done nothing for my progression in the prison of my mind. I inspected my soul more thoroughly.

    My fourth layer doubled the size of my soul. It was massive. There was no denying my core had expanded, and if I cultivated in a mana-rich environment, I¡¯d break through to the rank of knight, becoming an apex lancer. However, there was no mana in this cage. Becoming a knight didn¡¯t matter at the moment. Somehow I¡¯d gained three new levels without realizing it.

    The closer I inspected my mind, the clearer it became. Each of my mental pathways¡ªwisdom, intelligence, and survival¡ªhad three levels. How? When? Squids must¡¯ve tampered with my mind somehow.

    I dove deep into the depths of my mind, exploring every crack, cavity, and expanse¡ªliving through memories and experiencing love, joy, sadness, fear, and pain. I wanted to stop several times. The moments became real again. It hurt. Damn, it hurt. I pushed through the pain and kept searching. The answer was somewhere in my mindscape.

    Somewhere, somehow, I¡¯d find a way to escape this abyss. I just had to keep looking.

    ****

    I waded through light for what felt like years. When I reached the end of the light, I crawled through endless darkness. In the deep void of my mind, I found a peculiar object. It called to me. My direction no longer mattered. The distant white box was always before me.

    I kept crawling.

 4. Slowdance on the Inside

    The box did not glow; it wasn¡¯t a light, and darkness did not recede. It was just there. The closer I got to the box, the more I understood what I was seeing, which made me more clueless about what was happening.

    The box grew in size. First, it was the size of a stone. Then, it was as high as my hip. Judging by its current size, I had a long way to go.

    My pace quickened. I no longer crawled. Jogging. Running. I jumped through space. The box was as tall as me. With each jump it grew, becoming the size of a room, and finally, when I arrived, the box was the size of a house. I never realized it was so big when I was inside it.

    I looked through the semi-transparent walls and saw a man resting against a wall. His eyelids fluttered, and beads of sweat dripped to the floor.

    Mana, was my first thought. If I could get into the box, maybe I could use the puddle of mana. No, the way back was far, and I had just arrived. I rested my hand on the smooth wall, and as I felt around, my hand slid across the glossy surface.

    I walked around the entire box, inspecting it thoroughly. The structure was like a large block of ice. Even the temperature radiating from it was cold¡ªa sensation I hadn¡¯t experienced in a long time. Even now, the coldness was faint. If it was made of ice, I could connect to it and bend it to my will.

    No connection could be made.

    I strategized other ways to enter the box and then started punching. My frustration might not have been as tempered as I thought. My punches snapped with a hard impact. The box didn¡¯t budge. Each blow I delivered had no effect, and I found myself once again punching into nothing. I continued to hammer at the unbreakable barrier with my fists.

    It took longer than I was proud to admit to calm down. When I did, I no longer paid attention to the prison. Instead, I walked to the other side, where the lonely resident rested his back against the wall.

    The man wore shredded armor, and there was a gaping hole in his chest plate in the front and back. I could see his muscular chest and back through the hole. His dark tan skin displayed several large scars. There was no evidence of the spike that had impaled him.

    He had short trimmed hair on the sides and longer on top. The black hair waved and curled into its own style. I could even see the loose strand that irritated his face when was on a pike.

    His broad shoulders were relaxed, and his arms rested on tucked knees. The prisoner¡¯s eyelids continued to flutter as he breathed deep in a rhythmic pattern. Unlike his bronze skin, his face was pale. Deathly pale. Instinctively, I reached out to my face, checking my forehead and cheeks for temperature. I felt nothing unusual.

    The prisoner was weak. His body looked crumpled and broken. As soon as he broke his trance, he would die and end up back in the box. How long could he last like that?

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    How long could I last?

    I was the prisoner, and yet I existed outside his prison. He was dying. I stood far from death¡¯s doorstep. We were the same and yet so distant¡ªseparated. I didn¡¯t need to be here. I could walk away from the box, and as long as the prisoner kept his trance, I would be free to live.

    The realization struck me like a bolt of energy.

    The man inside the box was no prisoner; he was a sacrifice, and the box was not a prison but a means of preservation. As long as he remained in solitude, I could live. I sensed the tendrils of my salvation pulling me from this mindscape. I resisted the call, remaining with the liberator for a moment longer.

    ¡°Live for them,¡± I said to the man inside the wall in a reverent voice. My hand reached for his slumped shoulder and rested on the glass above his back. ¡°I will survive, and I will save them.¡± The promise lingered in the air, and as the words made their way to the prisoner, his shoulders slouched a little less.

    I examined my broken self, knowing I might not see him again, or at least not like this. I wanted to acknowledge and let him know his sacrifice would not be in vain, but I could not wake him.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± I sat against the wall. My breathing slowed. In and out. Slow. Soft.

    As I fell into a trance, I opened my mind¡¯s eye. Tendrils of energy pulled me from this chasm in my mind. I fluttered in the dark, flying toward a distant location. One I¡¯d never seen before.

    I woke up standing in a puddle of water. My hand stretched out. Blue refreshing mana accumulated on my fingers. As I raised my head, the battlefield became clearer. Tenty laid on the ground next to my impaled body. His body and face sprawled from when he died.

    My old body was now frozen. The mana I sensed from the ice encasing it was my own. I looked over myself, not my dying frozen body on the pike, but the new body I inhabited. It was my mirage, an ice clone I created of myself and enhanced with mana.

    I thought my clone vanished when I was first skewered, our connection severed. I was wrong. Not only was my clone present, but it was now me, a vessel for my soul. Somehow, the tendrils I felt inside my mind pulled my soul into the clone... a transference of some type.

    Tenty was right. My mind had blown wide open. I couldn''t contain my smile and laughter.

    When my amazement wore off, I looked around for my friends. They had long since perished. I was not fast enough. Their deaths hit hard. A pit filled my stomach and grew when I thought of my excitement seconds ago. The taste of bile teased my mouth. I wasn¡¯t sure what would happen when I escaped my mind prison, but I wanted a chance. I thought I would have a chance. This was not good enough.

    ¡°No,¡± I said, rejecting this outcome. I needed to return sooner. I closed my eyes and, with my outstretched hand, connected to my mana freezing my dying body. I closed my hand, commanding the mana to crush¡­

    I woke up standing in a puddle of water. My hand stretched out. Blue refreshing mana accumulated on my fingers. As I raised my head, the battlefield became clearer. Tenty laid on the ground next to my impaled body. His body and face sprawled from when he died.

    My friends were still dead. I was not fast enough. ¡°No.¡± I needed to return sooner. I closed my eyes and, with my outstretched hand, connected to the mana, freezing my dying body. My hand closed as I commanded the mana to crush¡­

    They were still dead. ¡°No.¡± I closed my hand again¡­

    ¡°No.¡± I needed to be faster. I stretched out my hand again¡­

    ¡°Please,¡± I said in a muttered tone, begging for a better outcome. My hand stretched again¡­

    ¡°Damn it. No.¡± My hand lingered. I wasn¡¯t getting any closer, but I could not accept this. I commanded the ice to crush.

    ¡°You can still save them.¡± I cut off the mana and looked for Tenty. I heard his voice clear as day to the right of me.

    I had so many questions I wanted to ask the faceless voice. One rose to the surface above all others. ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°How was anything accomplished?¡± The flayen asked, voice devoid of emotion.

    I took a deep breath and reconciled myself for the deep waters ahead. To save my friends I needed more power.

 5. The Path to Power

    Power didn¡¯t come easy. Those who sought after it either died or covered their hands in blood. The pathway forward would be no different for me. I inspected my friends¡¯ remains and then at myself. I would walk that pathway a thousand times for them¡­ for her.

    My eyes lingered on my ray of light. Call it cheesy or cliche. I didn¡¯t care. I could still feel her flame burning within my soul. Lana meant the world to me; I would do anything to save her. It was what the man in the ice wanted; that was why he willingly accepted his fate.

    ¡°So, how does this work?¡± I asked the memory fragment.

    ¡°It is complicated.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t see Squids, but I could sense his presence in my mind. He tethered himself to my soul. Creating soul bonds without compliance was a glaring red flag, not that I wasn¡¯t already concerned about the flayen. Unfortunately, I was still at a disadvantage here. Squids had information, and I didn¡¯t know how to force it out of him¡­ or if anything he said held truth.

    Stubbornly, I waited for more information.

    ¡°It was difficult to get the transference to work. Your mind was too weak when we started and needed to be expanded. As much as you protest against my presence, I am the reason you are free.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s funny,¡± I said. ¡°You didn¡¯t seem to help me at all when I was trapped in the abyss.¡±

    ¡°How do you think you ranked up three levels? Squids asked rhetorically, in a scripted tone. ¡°I increased your intelligence and wisdom. I created the conditions to preserve your dying body. I brought you into your mindscape so that you could scrape by more than a few measly breaths of life. It was my tampering that allowed your soul to find a new host. I am the reason you no longer suffer on the pike. I am the reason for the loop and I am the reason you have any semblance of hope to save your friends.¡±

    I averted my gaze from my staked body and shifted my feet. Death mana lingered in the air. It was so dense, I could almost see the pale gray energy. I felt out of place, and it wasn¡¯t just because of my new body. As much as I wanted to claim that I was responsible for my new life, I knew Tenty was right.

    ¡°Why do I no longer return to the spike or my mindscape when I die?¡± I died a few times already in an attempt to return to my friends sooner. Each death brought me back to where I stood now, a few feet away from my iced body.

    ¡°The mind is more powerful than you give it credit,¡± Squids said. ¡°It has a way of¡ªcreating shorter paths to get to its end goal, for lack of better words. In your case, transference is the goal. For you, it feels immediate, there is much more to it than that, but all you need to know is that this is as fast as you can transfer at your current level. As long as you can keep your body alive, you can keep living. When it dies, you will be reset back to this spot.¡±

    ¡°How much more power do I need to transfer faster?¡± I asked, trying to do some mental calculation. I was on the verge of becoming a knight. At this rank, the soul transfer took too long. Everyone was already dead by the time my soul connected with my clone. That meant I needed to be¡ª

    ¡°The power of mages,¡± Squids said.

    Damn.

    ¡°You¡¯re telling me I need to touch the heavens?¡± I asked, hoping I misheard.

    I may be at the top of the lancer realm in terms of cultivation, but that was the lowest realm. Before I made it to the realm of mages I would need to pass the realms of templars and sages. And just as the lancer realm had several ranks, each of the others had their own ranks I would need to progress through, and between those ranks were several levels.

    ¡°The heavens?¡± Squids forced a hollow chuckle. ¡°No. You will live among the stars. You will be a star devourer.¡±

    I tried to imagine the path forward. Toppling mages sounded unrealistic. If Alderi¡¯s Population Records were accurate, less than two percent of all cultivators reached the realm of sages. Mages were a fraction of that percentage. To reach the top, I would have to swim through death¡­ the same as any mage.

    ¡°What happens when this body dies?¡± I motioned to my cloned body. Whether the motion helped, the calamari seemed to understand.

    ¡°Souls transcend time. You will return to this time, but you will retain all your cultivation, including all of your essences.

    ¡°A devourer of stars¡­ So what happened to you?¡±

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    ¡°In time, you will learn everything about me¡ªmy existence, people, purpose, and failures. For now, you need to focus on yourself. Before you can reach the heavens, you must climb mountains.¡± The presence of Calamari I felt in my mind dampened.

    ¡°Hey, you still there? I still have questions¡­ What about loops¡ªI mean recursions? Cal¡­ Squids¡­ Tents¡­ Or mighty flayen?¡± I kicked the dirt in response to the silence I received. Soggy¡¯s son of a goat.

    I remained skeptical of Tenty. For one, he was a bipedal octopus. I was pretty confident about my ocean knowledge; octopi weren¡¯t amphibious. They were strictly aquatic. Tenty and his people went against nature. If that didn¡¯t spell fishy¡­

    The Deliverer be damned. I didn¡¯t know how to finish the expression. I butchered the start, and there was no recovery.

    The point was, Squids was too responsive to be a memory fragment. That meant he lied to me from the start and withheld information. He dangled himself as bait and was dragging me along.

    So no, I wouldn¡¯t trust Tenty, but I also died in this spot two hundred times. Now, I was off the stake and staring at my frozen body. I didn¡¯t know what to believe, honestly.

    Cultivating was the only sensible thing to do. Dense mana flowed around me as if in response to my thoughts, acting like it desired for more¡­ a greater purpose. I opened my soul to absorb the power.

    The thought wasn¡¯t lost on me that I was cultivating in the blood of my friends. My own actions repulsed me. This graveyard was the last place I wanted to be. However, efficient cultivation of mana required two factors: an abundance of mana and seclusion.

    Dying had a way of changing perspectives. Was cultivating here wrong? Yes. Was it gross? Yeah. It smelled terrible, too. But there was also an absurd amount of mana lingering here¡ªdeath, water, life, light, and earth practically swirled in the air. It¡¯d be a waste to leave this power behind.

    Besides, if I didn¡¯t cultivate this mana, either spirit beasts or the forest would.

    This deep in the Bloodwoods, I was at least seventy miles away from the nearest town, Tom¡¯s Pond.

    My conditions were prime for cultivation. I had seclusion and I had an abundance of mana. Water cycled through my channels. The mana was cool, malleable, and refreshing. The light blue energy was also refreshing, and when I cycled it, I found myself in a passive state of mind. It was like a wave in the ocean; my only purpose was to be.

    I pictured a cozy chair; it reclined and supported the legs, arms, and head. I locked in the picture and willed the mana cycle inside me to conform to my thoughts. Water formed into the chair. I made a couple of adjustments and then froze the design.

    I cycled my mana on my frozen throne, expanding it outside of my channels. Greenish-blue energy spun around me. I expanded the cyclone and increased the speed of its rotation. My water vortex pulled ambient mana toward me, collecting them into a funnel. As  mana collected, water stripped them of their essence and absorbed it.

    Refining mana depended on the energy bound to the cultivator¡¯s soul¡ªfire purified, earth eroded, air weathered, water corroded, darkness smothered, light amplified, life bonded, and death¡­ death just reaped.

    Night gave way to day, and day followed night. All the while, I maintained my focus on gathering and corroding mana. With the energy I had absorbed, my soul was at quarter capacity. Within three more days of cultivation, I¡¯d break through to the next rank¡ªbecoming a knight. My mind was single to the task. There was plenty of mana for me to gather. I just had to collect it.

    My soul exploded with mana. I¡¯d collected enough cyan energy to break through my third layer, and now my fourth layer could be filled. I was officially a knight.

    Knights were the top-tier lancers. Empires heavily pursued them, trying to add them to their armies as captains. Guilds offered them immense bounties. Nobles sought after them to be their guards.

    Power coursed through my channels. I had a fundamental understanding of my bond with water. Upon achieving a new level in my cultivation of water mana, I gained profound insights that transformed my understanding and abilities:

    My ability to freeze water was based on my molecular empathy. I could empathize with water on a molecular level, allowing for precise manipulation of its state and properties. When I froze water, I changed the molecules from their natural flowing state to one of rest. Water had another state of hyper-activity.

    I formed an orb of water and increased the energy of the molecules. My orb boiled, and I could feel its need to expand. I allowed the water to claim its freedom, creating a cloud of steam. Just as I could manipulate ice, I could manipulate the steam. I whisked it around, added more mana, and then let it settle. My immediate surroundings were now covered in my steam cloud. I was confident I would find other practical uses for this.

    Water mana resonated with the energy of life itself. My power was not just about controlling water but harmonizing with the mana existing in all living beings. If I tapped into this resonance with life, I could use my mana to cleanse and heal wounds, even severe ones.

    Just as water adapted to its environment, my mana became inherently more adaptable. As I controlled my fog, I realized I¡¯d gained the ability to quickly and seamlessly alter the intensity and nature of my spells. With a thought, I turned my cloud into a wall of ice. I then shattered my wall into ice spears that pierced the ground. A breath later, my spears turned into a stream that flowed back to me. I let the water surround me and felt its invigorating connection to life.

    I was calm, energized, and in complete control of my power.

    I didn¡¯t have a domain yet. I would have to gain another three levels and break through another layer, becoming a templar, before I could harness that power. However, my stronger connection to water felt like I was now touching on that power.

    Every body of water was a source of knowledge and power, a living entity with which I can commune. Through this connection, I could sense imbalances in my immediate surroundings. It was quite obvious the surrounding mana was in flux from the battle. The forest hungered for the mana to settle so that it could feast and grow.

    At the edge of my awareness, I could sense another hungry presence. It was small compared to the forest but no less hungry. In fact, it was famished. I homed in on the unsuspecting predator and prepared for a feast.

 6. The Prey

    The spiritual beast stalking me was no longer alone. There were seven of them, six of which were all bigger than the first. At first, I thought It was a blood reaper, but now I suspect it¡¯s a pack of wolfbears. My soul pulsed with mana as the energy cycled through my channels and pushed outward. Waves of translucent energy expanded as it grew, so did my connection with the Bloodwoods. Life was at a standstill in the forest. Lesser creatures sensed the danger and vanished into the safety of their homes.

    A wolfbear was neither wolf nor bear¡ªrecalling knowledge I glanced from a book long ago. Wolfbears didn¡¯t even belong in the Canidae family. They were a family of their own¡ªHyaenidae. The dog-like creatures were as large as bears and hunted in packs like wolves. Except wolfbears didn¡¯t hunt in packs of seven to twelve predators. They hunted in packs of eighty to a hundred.

    The seven wolfbears I sensed were just the scouting party.

    Wolfbears were once the dominant species on the Agoria continent. Their population spanned the entirety of the landmass, and their packs claimed territories like humans. In the infancy of their rise to power, cultivators were not facing threats from outside nations but threats from the ever-feasting wolfbears. The struggle became less and less as cultivators reached greater heights.

    When the first templar in rank was reached by an Agorian, the war reached a turning point. Humanity feasted on the beasts and grew in power. Rule and order were created, and Agoria thrived. As the humans prospered, the wolfbears were pushed back to the brink of extinction. Only a small pocket of the wolfbears remained¡ªhere in the Bloodwoods, where the mana and habitat can sustain the large hunting packs, and as domesticated beasts, the powerful and wealthy feasted upon¡ªbeefbears.

    I had thirty seconds before the hunters arrived. The scouts I was confident I could deal with. The remaining hunters, not so much. I couldn¡¯t flee. They would easily catch me, and I wasn¡¯t even sure I was their target. The mana was still thick with death here. The wolfbears knew that where there¡¯s death, there¡¯s food. If I run, they will devour the dead here, including the man frozen on his pike.

    That was an entirely different problem. I wasn¡¯t sure what I was going to do with my body while it was frozen and dying. Ideally, I would move it to someplace safe. I was kind of hoping I could leave it here for a while before I had to figure that out. Now, I doubted that was possible. That wasn¡¯t even an option at the moment. If I wanted this life to last, I needed to survive and needed to preserve the dying man. Twenty-five seconds before the scouts arrived.

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    Time slowed to a crawl. I scanned the fresh graveyard for any advantage I could use. The battle of mages had devastated the landscape. What once was a small opening among massive trees was now a cleared field for hundreds of yards. After a devastating battle, earth and life cultivators typically used their mana to repair the damaged environment. That wasn¡¯t the case here. For whatever reason, the Alderi Emperor didn¡¯t care about the backlash of the battle. There would be nowhere for me or the wolfbears to hide. Perfect.

    I spread the water from my palm around me, covering an area of thirty yards. Water touched the ground and turned into a slick sheet of ice. I continued to add layers to the ice field, raising the ground under me. I had plenty of mana for the task, and my channels felt fresh. With my connection to the ice, I smoothed out each layer until I had a mound of ice.

    The dead and dying were now buried, and it was a bit uncanny to think I was standing on the hill of my tomb.

    I dispersed a thick fog to cover the area for the remaining ten seconds. The fog wouldn¡¯t help keep me hidden; it was intended to keep the ice hidden. As the fog rolled out, I covered myself and my immediate surroundings in a globe of thick ice¡ªa skill I rarely used as the party¡¯s scout.

    I heard the chatter of the seven spirit beasts before I saw them. It was an eerie sound of wild and untamed laughter, each cry provoking the next to be louder and higher. I felt a bit haunted in the gloom of my fog, and the moisture on my brow wasn¡¯t unnoticed. I can¡¯t recall the last time I felt the battle sweats. My stomach churned in anticipation, reminding me of my aching hunger. I¡¯ve gone three days without food before. I never felt intense pain like this before. This felt like it was more than three days.

    Instinctively, I thumbed the ring on my index finger. If it were an ordinary ring, this body I inhabited would not be wearing it. Lana¡¯s gifts were not ordinary. The ring was bound not only to my body but also to my ice clone. My mana was directed into the ring, carrying my command to summon the bow stored inside.

    Like Lana¡¯s ring, Snowpiercer was a bow made for me. It was made from the finest wood of the elven kingdoms, Blackwood, and held an unnatural amount of runes that shaped the invested bow. The draw strength was as strong as a pure body cultivator¡¯s bow but not nearly as impossible to draw. Attuned to my mana, I could pull the string as if it had no resistance. Snowpiercer allowed me to shoot arrows of ice. The arrows could even pierce my barriers without my intervention.

    I held Snowpiercer firmly in my left hand. The weight of the gift felt extra heavy as I raised it. An ice arrow was summoned in my right hand. I closed my eyes, diving deeper into my connection to water and surroundings. My fog didn¡¯t blind me. I could sense everything. I knew this was just a taste of the power I would have once I broke through to the next rank of templar. That was a long way away. Still, the taste was sweet, and I hungered for more.

    I drew my arrow, held the tension for a breath, and fired. My ice arrow whistled through my barrier and fog as the first wolfbear entered my hunting ground.

 7. The Predator

    I fired an arrow of ice through my barrier. As it cut through thick fog, a spirit beast, the size of a large bear, raced into my killing field.

    The Wolfbear had a fuzzy head of a bear that looked like the mane of a lion. Its jaw was massive and open as it pushed out a rumbling growl. The body was covered in short fur and shaped like a dog with an exaggerated curved back that seemed to result from longer legs in the front than its back.

    My prey tripped on the ice and slid head-first into my arrow. Its growls gurgled, whimpered, and then went silent as its frozen body slid away.

    Two more wolfbears ran onto my grounds. I fired at the closest one. It slipped, causing my shot to miss its head and pierce its shoulder. The injured beast lost all footing and slid down the incline, its body turning to ice. I fired two ice arrows at the agile wolfbear dancing on the ice. The first was dodged. The second impaled its side. The bear cried angrily as ice froze over it.

    The four remaining spirit beasts stepped into my zone simultaneously¡ªeach placed in my cardinal direction. Their laughter reached a new pitch. It was high, loud, and constant.

    The constant wailing broke through my focus. I wanted to run. I needed to run. I was going to die here. I didn''t want to die. I couldn''t die. There had to be a way to escape. My shell wasn''t safe. It was collapsing. Run. Run. Run. I needed to just curl up and protect myself. The laughter grew louder.

    <i>Kainoa! </i>The sharp shout of my name pulled me from despair. This wasn''t good. The cries were pulling me back under, the wolfbears were getting closer, and now there were a dozen. I directed mana to my head and covered my ears in water. The laughter was muffled, but it wasn''t enough. I froze the water, further quieting the despairing cries. A band of ice connected my ear muffs atop my head, and another band circled my head. The muffs were secure, and I could get back to the fight.

    The four wolfbears were nearly at my dome. Their pace was slow and careful. They weren''t aware that I was no longer under their influence. Even as I raised my bow, they still slowly stalked forward. I didn''t need a full draw at this distance. I picked the furthest of the four away from me and released¡ªanother headshot. I turned to my next target. My nerves caused me to draw back further than needed, and the arrow fired with a humming fury. It slammed into the belly of the beast mid-cry. The power of the shot launched the wolf back into the air. Its frozen body crashed to the ground and shattered.

    My next two shots were more controlled but no less devastating to the spirit beast. I took a deep breath and quickly assessed my mana. I still had plenty to fight, and I had a feeling I was going to need it. The new beasts had thrown caution out the window and attempted to race up my hill to various degrees of success.

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    A frozen bear slid down the icy terrain, then another, and another. It didn''t matter.

    I slew wolfbear after wolfbear. They kept coming. There were dozens of them dead now, and more than double were alive¡ªtrying to eat me. The intensity of their wails permeated my headband. Fortunately, the mana-enhanced headgear protects me from the terror effect. My head still ached from the endless noise, and it was getting harder to maintain focus.

    As the wolfbears piled toward me, I added more mana to the fog and the ice field. The predators could no longer maintain their footing and had to reduce their speed. On top of that, the thick fog was actively slowing them to a crawl. Their lethargy helped reduce the constant noise and gave me a small respite.

    I pressed my advantage and released a barrage of arrows. My increased tempo strained my aim and focus. I had to keep my breathing in check to avoid falling out of rhythm and waste the opportunity. For thirty seconds, I systematically located my targets, drew my arrow, aimed, and fired. At the peak of my barrage, I was shooting faster than an arrow a second.

    My whistling arrows became the song of battle¡ªa cold-frosty dirge of death.

    The largest beasts were my primary targets and also the easiest to hit. When they were killed, I focused on the fallen. Their fates were sealed to the earth. Then, I worked through the more menacing beasts. Death mana began to fill the air. I could feel it urging me to claim more lives, pushing me¡ªhungering for more. My hill was cleared, so I shot through my fog. I wasn''t as sure about my aim. It was hard to track on the other side. That didn''t stop me from shooting. The wolfbears wanted to eat me. I didn''t want to be eaten. So I kept shooting. It was that simple.

    After a few minutes of shooting through the abyss, I could no longer sense the pack. Though they had retreated, my gut told me they would return, and it would be a lot worse when they did.

    I considered my options. I could probably run now. I had enough time to recover my frozen body and pack it wherever I went. I could just leave my body under my mound of ice. That would probably buy me a week or two before my ice thawed and my body would be exposed. If whatever found my body wasn''t a powerful cultivator or spirit beast, I might have another week before the other layer of ice thawed. When that happened, I would die.

    Where would I go? I couldn''t go back home. Whoever sent us on this mission must''ve known what was happening. Their story was too contrived, and the location too precise for it to be a coincidence. That meant someone wanted us dead¡­ I didn''t know who. Lana was our contact with the quest giver. The quest giver that asked for us specifically knew too much about us. Home wasn''t safe. Even if it was, I had no heart to return there. Not without my family.

    I could run to another town, but for what purpose? I needed to get stronger, and there was only one direct way to power. Death and I were going to get a lot more acquainted¡ªmaybe even friendly.

    My mind was set. The Bloodwoods were my new training ground. The wolfbears and any other foul beast near me would be my feast. My decision made the following planning easier: I needed more protection, more mana, and food. The dead would provide two needs, and I''d provide the other.

 8. At the Heart

    I checked my pseudo domain for any threats. I was the only life inside my realm. I pushed my senses further out, relying on water''s connection to life to track outside my fog. I could not sense any spirit beasts within two miles. This was my chance to reap what I had sown.

    <i>	</i><i>What are you doing? </i>Asked the flayen, his voice only audible within my mind.

    In my head I pictured his bearded tentacles raised in a questioning gesture. It wasn¡¯t a pleasant sight.

    <i>	</i><i>What do you mean, what am I doing? I''m doing what you said.</i>

    <i>	</i><i>I said get stronger,</i> The tentacle face said.

    <i>	</i><i>Can''t you see me hauling this chunk of meat up an ice mountain? It''s easily two hundred pounds. And this is my third trip. That doesn''t even include all of the cores I''ve collected, </i>I said.

    That was only sorta true. Instead of the task getting more challenging with each trip, it became easier. My connection with water allowed me to glide on the icy surface. I discovered if I invested energy on the soles of my feet I could use that to pull me across the surface.

    <i>	</i>Water longed to connect with another source¡ªits nature was to gather. This would not have worked if it had just been a body of water. I would''ve sunk or, at the very best, stayed rooted. Ice was a bit different. Each crystal had its own structure. It was content to just be, to remain as is.

    I simply pictured an ice crystal ahead of me and commanded my mana-endowed feet to obey. I tripped more than once, and downhill was much easier than uphill, which took more convincing, mana, and willpower. I could not just picture the ice crystal. I had to know it was there and that my mana could become one with it. After trial and error, I developed a competent level of ice sliding.

    I wasn''t sure if the new skill would be practical in a fight yet¡ªmaybe if I was retreating. Realistically, it would take more practice and experience before I was comfortable mixing it into a fight. I wasn''t working on being a realist at the moment. If I could develop the skill now, it would add a new element to my fighting. I was already fast on my feet, but this would increase my movement by two or threefold.

    <i>	</i><i>You are wasting your time, </i>the flayen said.

    <i>	</i><i>My new skill is evident enough that I wasn''t wasting time. Besides that, isn''t time on my side? You''re just jealous because you won''t be feasting on spirit beasts. </i>

    <i>	</i><i>Gross.</i>

    <i>	</i><i>True¡­ spirit beasts weren''t exactly delicacies unless the chef had powerful cooking skills or the consumer was ravenous. I pride myself on being a little bit of both. Besides that, wolfbears are supposed to be the exception. Well¡­ the mana-modified beefbear version of the wolfbear is supposed to be tasty. That''s gotta mean this slab of beef is top-of-the-line fresh.</i>

    <i>	</i><i>You do not need to train your physical strength, </i>Tentacles said. I sensed an intense amount of frustration coming from him. Which was a bit off script¡­<i> You need to focus on your mental pathways. Your mind must be stronger.</i>

    <i>	</i><i>No. </i>It''s not that I didn''t completely trust Calamari. It would be nice if I knew his real name and intentions or understood what he was doing in my mind. OK, I didn''t trust Cal. Possession without consent was a glaring red flag, and I could not shake my gut, feeling that the guy did not have my best interest at stake<i>.</i>

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    <i>	</i><i>What do you mean, no? </i>Face tentacles were aggressively shrugging. I shuddered at the thought.

    <i>	</i><i>I don''t want to follow the path of a wizard or sorcerer, </i>I said.

    <i>	</i><i>This has nothing to do with pathways or classes. </i>Tenty''s words slammed into my mind with the intensity of a banshee screaming. A sharp pain erupted behind my eyes. It caused me to lose focus on my ice crystal. I slowed from a fast sprint to a standstill and began slipping down the hill.

    As soon as I regained focus, I created a new anchor point. What the hell?<i> </i>

    <i>Your mind is too weak, </i>the squid said, tentacles chiding me like a parent would a child.<i> We need to reforge it and build more layers on it. I¡ªwe can not move forward until you have reached the ruler stages of mind cultivation.</i>

    <i>	</i><i>I''m buying us more time, </i>I countered. The flayen¡¯s words clouded my mind with a haze of doubt. It urged me to wait. Listen. Obey. I pushed forward<i>.</i>

    <i>	</i><i>No, </i>Tents said.<i> You are skirting around on a playground of ice, pretending at power. Follow me, and I will show you how feeble your ''training'' attempts are.</i>

    <i>	</i><i>And how long do you think I will last in the ice before I die? </i>I asked.

    <i>	</i><i>You will not last longer than five days. I can teach you deep meditation, which will slow down your death even further. We could double or even quadruple that time.</i>

    <i>	</i><i>Do you know what the body pathway will do for me? </i>I asked.

    <i>	</i><i>Flayens never disgraced themselves with such foul practices. We cultivate the mind; anything else is a perversion.</i>

    <i>	</i><i>So you don''t know about the endurance and strength path? My body will become as durable as steel and be able to regenerate health. The upgrades to my body could triple my time in the ice, and that is before I am able to reforge the essences.</i>

    <i>	</i><i>You will be wasting so much potential, </i>The flayen said.<i> I beg you to trust me. I will lead you to the stars. I will save you and your people.</i>

    <i>	</i><i>For what purposes? </i>I asked. <i>To save your people? When they come, will they be looking for peace, or will they be looking to rule? </i>It was pretty clear from conversations the squid disdained my people. In his eyes, we were inferior.

    I disagreed.

    <i>	</i>If we were so weak, why was he dead? Why was he now relying on me? The truth of the matter was Calamari quit. He couldn''t accomplish whatever task he was sent to achieve, and he had the power of recursion backing him. He tried to accomplish things his way, with all his mind powers, and failed. According to him, my mind was already tainted¡­ I had already cultivated body essences. There was no way I would reach the level he was on. So why try to follow a path I couldn¡¯t follow? A path that led to failure.

    I would''ve argued with Cal about all of this, but the squid split mid-conversation. It''s not like he had anywhere to go. He was in my mind. I''ve been there. It''s a dark void brimming with emptiness.

    The mind invader did save me during the fight, though. He called to me when I was caged in fear, breaking me out of the wolfbears'' trance.

    Trust was a silly thing.

    I reached the top of the hill shortly after the mental conversation ended. I placed my hand over the ice dome and created a door to walk through. I kept the door open as I made the rest of my preparations. My stomach rumbled, my body aching for nourishment. Even if I wanted to spend the rest of my life pursuing the path of the mind, I couldn¡¯t ignore my need to eat.

    It was a bit odd to think I still craved food or that I hungered. I was no longer in my real body. The clone I inhabited was made of ice, runes, and mana. Yet it was as real as flesh. I felt pain, hunger, thirst¡­ I needed air to breathe.

    On the surface it made no sense. However, the body was just as much an essence of the soul as was the mind and spirit. So in a way it made sense that base needs were still met. My soul needed it.

    My thoughts branched in several directions from that point. I contemplated humanity and the essence of being while I worked.

    I skated down the hill one last time and walked to the forest''s edge. The trees were much too large for me to use. It would take me hours of labor to cut down and process them. That was energy I didn''t have. My focus was on the ground. During the battle of mages these massive trees were used like ordinary weapons. They were thrown, speared, morphed, and exploded. There were bound to be remnants of the mighty battle trees left behind.

 9. Becoming a Knight

    Thick clouds blanketed the night sky. My palace of ice glowed in the darkness on a hill of frozen death. The fire inside cracked in a random rhythm, attempting to soothe my soul. Instead, it bit at my back while I sat in passive cultivation.

    The remainder of my day, leading me to this moment, was delicious and uneventful. I cooked and ate a wolfbear steak. It was as tasty as the rumors suggested. The meat was tender and juicy, and the flavor was rich. It was so good I cooked up another two steaks and devoured them with the same culinary enthusiasm.

    Unfortunately, I had no supporting side dishes or a proper drink to accompany my fine meal. Still, eating the wolfbear was the peak of my excitement.

    The beasts never returned, and I had yet to sense or hear their presence. Maybe they thought night would give them an advantage. They might even be waiting for me to fall asleep.

    I didn''t feel safe enough to fall asleep or meditate¡ªthat left cultivation.

    Water coursed through my channels, pulling and purifying mana. The mana entered my cores, rolling like a gentle wave, ever pushing against its barriers. The more mana I added the more intense the pressure in my core became. It was vital that I shaped it and filled my new layer with mana if I wanted to grow. One thing I believed Tenty about was that I needed more power.

    The thought of pursuing power brought a sad smile, and I chuckled. I had stopped chasing power a long time ago. Power only led to pain and hurt. As a failing merchant, I was quite content as a high-rank rook. I''d been burned enough by the path. Then, a royal pain¡ª the fragmented glimpse of Lana entering my shack of a store brought back too much pain¡ªI banished the memory and forced my focus elsewhere.

    I was now a knight-ranked lancer. A budding knight¡­ sure. It was still a tremendous feat, one that was usually cause for celebration. I was at the apex of the lancer stage.

    Being a knight wasn''t just a title. I felt powerful. My snow globe was thick and durable. I could freeze the ground several yards around me. My ice arrows were solid and potent¡ªnever had my glancing blows frozen enlightened beings so quickly. I could now traverse my ice fields with speed and ease. Summoned fog could conceal me. Before, my mana felt secondary to my skills. That was quickly changing as I grew more accustomed to my strength.

    I continued to passively cultivate as I looked over at my pile of dull-white cores and contemplated what to do with all fifty of them.

    If I was closer to a town I could use them for resources. Besides my bow, all my other gear was damaged. I was fighting in rags and had no physical weapon besides my bow. I could use some physical arrows or short swords. I wouldn''t be able to get much. The five thousand credits the cores allotted would only be enough for a couple pieces of armor for my rank.

    On the other hand, if I wanted to live an easy life, I could probably get by for a year¡­ if I was frugal. Combined with shop income, I could stretch it another three years¡ªI cut another thought off, stopping it from dredging up memories and emotions unsuitable for my circumstances.

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    The easy road was not one of my pathways. It could never be. At least not until I saved my friends.

    I could refine the cores and turn them into an elixir; it would be ingested and absorbed into my channels. However, that would take much more time and effort. The surrounding mana from the battle was already providing more enrichment than all fifty of these cores combined, leaving me with a few options.

    Cores were essential to powering runes. Flint always yammered on about how he could change the world if he had enough cores and time. The tinker spent more time scheming new ways to include the soul gems into his contraptions than he did anything else.

    As much as our squad gave Flint a hard time for his obsession, there was no denying it was impactful. The few years I spent around him had earned me some trade secrets. My favorite tinker craft was rune bombs. The secret about rune bombs was they were easy to make and devastating to use. The last detail was not much of a secret.

    I couldn''t make my bombs as intricate as the tinker. Flint had years of experience, and even then, he used Lana to enhance the runes further, empowering his scripts with light. However he taught me a couple of scripts, which I could manage due to years of map-making. Even then, my scripting was only ever passable. That was fine for my needs.

    A plan formed as I thought through my next step.

    Before I could reach the next stage of cultivation, I needed to build a new layer of my soul. Calamari wanted me to pursue the mind path. I wasn''t sure I could go further down that path until I reforged my mind¡ªa process I knew very little about, and I didn''t trust my parasite for guidance.

    Spirit cultivation was also foreign to me. I tried to learn what I could about that pathway, but the nobles hoarded the knowledge like it was a secret cache of wealth. The scarcity of knowledge about spirit paths conveniently let the nobles charge an exorbitant amount of credits for their training. I wasn''t confident in my current knowledge to follow the spirit cultivation.

    The pathways of the body were agility, strength, and endurance. I''d already developed my agility to rank two. Much of that training came in my youth running through the Kuokoa''s forests, where I pretended to hunt beasts with¡ª

    Again, I suppressed memories of another life. They say time heals all. I was still waiting for time to fulfill its end of the bargain. I knew my head was a mess. Suppress, forget, and move on¡­ that was my training, and that was all I had known.

    Strength and endurance pathways were straightforward. Get strong. Get hurt. Survive. Then repeat.

    My one rank in strength was because of that very practice with a sword. Drill after tireless drill. Basic training as an Alderian conscripted could be summed up as swing, block, parry, and repeat. It wasn''t surprising the body pathways were known as ''the path of the people''. Anyone could cultivate the body. They just had to act. Hence, armies filled up to the brim with commoner classes¡ªwarriors, hunters, and berserkers. All building their souls with basic body exercises. Swing, block parry, and repeat.

    It took effort to suppress body pathways if one did not desire to follow that path. I would no longer be suppressing mine.

    I left my ice palace one more time for the night to collect the needed supplies. I unthawed four frozen wolfbears and used a knife of ice to remove their pelts. The sharp blade and my practiced hands made short work of the task. I left the stripped bodies behind and glided back to my dome. Once inside, I laid out two hides, adding a soft carpet to my home. I created a poncho for protection from the third and used a bit of the fourth to make four crude pouches.

    Get strong, get hurt, survive¡ªsimple, effective cultivation. As twisted as it was, cultivators gained essences faster when they were killing. I had plenty of justification for my actions and recited them over in my mind while preparing.

    One by one, I scratched my scripts into the runes and added them to my pouches. When the wolfbears returned, I''d have pockets full of surprises for them. I claimed no high grounds tonight.

 10. Body Cultivation

    The wolfbears were only common rank spirit beasts. Of the enlightened beings they were the least powerful rank. However, I wasn¡¯t convinced they¡¯d lose a fight against too many superior-ranked spirit beasts. The lowest rank of lancers, a page, would most likely be killed in a one-on-one battle. A skilled rook might be able to bring one down without injury, and a squire could probably kill a small pack.

    A week ago, I would have never dared to face the beasts out in the open. Of course, being in a recursion boosted my confidence a hundred times. If death was power, then I might as well get to dying.

    The mana wolfbears possessed contributed more to their physical prowess than anything else. It made them tough in a physical fight and susceptible to mana attacks. Their most significant advantages were their size and numbers.

    Besides a weak resistance to mana, wolfbears¡¯ predictable nature was another glaring flaw. Leave out food, and they will come to the feast.

    It was a little past midnight when I heard the first call of the beast. The shrill laugh tore the peaceful night like a cracking whip. Ten seconds later, more beasts caught onto their secret inside joke. Growls accompanied their depraved cries. The night had turned to utter chaos in a matter of minutes.

    I remained silent in my snow globe. When I heard the first fit of laughter, I placed my wet pelts over the blazing flame. Smoke filled my safe haven, robbing me of precious air. I didn''t let the smoke ventilate. Instead, I added fuel to the smoldering flame, increasing the intensity. My eyes burned, and breathing was becoming painful. I inhaled my last and waited. The beasts were now feasting, and I was fuming.

    There was no more oxygen in my globe. The fickle coward of a flame starved out three minutes ago, abandoning me to my lonesome as smoke filled my home. After another three minutes, my ice box, like my lungs, was about to burst. I gritted through the pain for one more minute as I filled the outside air with a dense fog that hovered seven feet away from the ground.

    I wasn''t typically a schemer, but after a night of inhaling bloodwood, my mind got to thinking, and now I felt like a first-rate strategist. Sasha would''ve been proud.

    Down below, the feasting was coming to an end. My guests were furious, not that they were feeding on their own, but that there was not enough food to satiate the lust. The taste of blood was fresh in their mouths; the small appetizer was the fuze for their frenzy. They ran wildly below, searching for more. They didn''t care about the slick footing. They didn''t care about their clouded senses. They just wanted more. The frenzy turned to fight. The weakest of the pack were consumed in a ritual gorging that ended in heinous laughter.

    Amid the chaotic frenzy, I slipped a few pounds of meat outside my home. Soaked in my mana the scent of my offering was intoxicating to the wild beast. Within seconds the wild pack of wolfbears began to climb.

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    My plan wasn''t perfect, and I was having regrets. The wolfbears were taking too long. Seconds felt like hours. I wanted to explode my home then and there. It took all my constraints to hold. One beast made it to the top, followed by another, and then another. I held off for a few more to join.

    I added more mana to my globe, building the surmounting pressure. At the peak of the exploding point, I smashed my fist into the bursting dome, using my energy to command the ice to break.

    Shards shot into the wild pack, slicing and lacerating flesh. Smoke billowed and then spread out as it could not escape the thickness of my fog.

    I had to wait a few more painful seconds before I could inhale; even then, the air was tainted with my smoke, and instead of sweet relief, I was met with a bitter, painful swallow. My head ached, eyes watered, and lungs burned. I couldn''t see anything or hear above the laughing and wailing. All I had was my water sense to guide me. That was all I needed.

    I slid to the closest target. The wolfbear had ice piercing its leg and was coughing on the smoke-filled air. Experience told me to ignore the injured, battle lust begged me to strike. Lust won over. I swung my heavy sword in a downward cleave, separating the beast''s head from its body.

    My sword wasn''t ideal for combat; it was heavy and slow, but that was precisely what I intended. I skated to the next beast and capitalized on my momentum to cut straight through it while I moved on to the wolfbear behind it. I added a spin to generate more power and cut through that one as well. Strength was the equalizer for my heavy sword.

    No more spirit beasts were in my direct vicinity. A few were struggling to stand, and a couple died from the initial blast. I glided to the opposite side of my hill.

    A wolfbear barely phased by my ice blast locked me in its glare.

    I hurled an ice spike at the beast as I charged. The spike glanced off the beast. My throw wasn''t strong enough to pierce the thick hide. That didn''t stop the wolfbear from turning its head away for protection. When it turned its head back to me, it was met with another spike. A high-pitched howl escaped its mouth, and before it could recover, I killed it and moved on to the beasts at its flank.

    Three spirit beasts took the place of the one I just killed. My momentum was gone. Smoke spread around me. My cover wasn''t going to arrive in time.

    The wolfbears lunged in a coordinated assault. I grabbed a rune core, filled it with mana, and threw it at my feet. I had to duck as a frozen wolf flew over my head and then lean to my right to avoid the outstretched claws of the other attacker.

    The frozen flyer flew over my head and slammed to the ground, cracking the layer of ice and snapping its legs. As its legs slid in separate directions, the body plowed into several beasts reaching the summit. I was not as fortunate with the other two frozen beasts. They land on their sides, one sliding down the hill, the other remaining on top.

    My flash freeze was different from my piercing freeze. My arrows froze deep enough that unless an enlightened or awakened being had strong enough mana resistance, they would be frozen solid. Flash freezing froze the target solid on the surface.

    The victim would suffer some frostbite and would be frozen for a few seconds. They would ultimately thaw out in a matter of seconds. I guessed these low-ranking enlightened beasts would stay frozen for at least thirty seconds.

    I would have plenty of time to kill them... if I wasn''t already surrounded.

 11. Dances with Wolfbears

    Seven massive beasts surrounded me. I miscalculated the incline of my mountain. And by that, I meant my guessing game was way off. I thought I would get maybe one or two bears a second at the top. Three at the most. There was no way seven could converge on me at once.

    I called cheating. Foul play bears. Foul play.

    The cheaters played to their advantage. Tempered by smoke, they''ve silenced their manic desire for feasting... No, that wasn''t it. My smoke screen was working. They knew my general vicinity but couldn''t locate me. So maybe they weren''t the cheaters I accused them of being.

    The beasts heckled, growled, and coughed as they slowly made their way, closing their circle and my escape.

    I grabbed three more Freeze Bangs¡ªname pending¡ªand threw them around me. In a wave of exploding mana, the seven wolfbears froze. Thirty seconds. I discarded my claymore, freezing it to the back of my wolf pelt, and summoned a war hammer.

    Ice Breaker, though not an actual named weapon, earned its name for the one task at which it excelled. I lined up the closest chunk of ice and swung the hammer as hard as possible.

    Ice and frozen flesh shattered in a disgusting discard of death and violence. I added to the disturbing detritus with another mighty swing.

    There was no form to my attack. It was simple and destructive. See ice, smash ice. One by one, I hammered through the circle of beasts. By the time I was done, the bear I had frozen in my first bear <i>bang¡­ bear blast¡­ </i>recovered and attacked.

    I stood at the edge of the hill. All it took was a simple pull on ice to my left to whip me away from the beast''s charge. The silly bear swiped, missed, tripped, and slid down the mini-mountain, face-plowing ice. I had a moment of reprieve to summon Snowpiecer and shoot an arrow into the cowering monster''s hindquarters.

    The frozen, then thawed wolfbear, froze once more¡ªforever more.

    My poetic victory over Frosty the Bear was short-lived. Another wave of beasts was at my back and front. I prepared four more Freeze Bombs and threw them. Ice Breaker was in my hand the next second, and I began my second round of smashing frozen beasts. The inglorious act left me breathless and heaving in pain.

    I slew ten beasts, only to have another dozen replace them. I could freeze them and repeat my massacre, but I needed to be more aggressive and take advantage of the smoke screen.

    As a dozen bears converged on my location, I kept my presence small and slipped away. I sped down the hill, my feet being pulled by an anchor towards the bottom. Icebreaker was on my back, Snowpiercer was in my ring, and I held my unnamed ice claymore in a two-handed grip.

    Despite the iciness of everything, my palms were sweating. Deliverer be damned. I knew my plan was incomplete and just couldn¡¯t place it.I freaking forgot to make myself gloves¡­ All the prep time in the world, and I didn''t do the one thing I was supposed to do¡ªuse collected hides to make gloves.

    Hides collected¡­ yep.

    Smoke house smokey? Yup.

    Add carpet to a house about to get blown¡­ sure.

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    Ice bombs, of course.

    Bear hide cloak¡­ absolutely. It was an essential fashion for slaughtering wolfbears.

    Make gloves so clammy hands don''t get clammy when sliding down a hill at fast speeds and need a good grip on your sword made of ice? Nope. Can''t be bothered. To be fair with myself. Why were my hands clammy now? I was a knight ranked water cultivator. Where was my control? Was it nerves? Tension? Lack of conditioning?

    The claymore froze to my hands, forcing me to trade dexterity for security. I slashed through the open mouth of a predator. The beast was dead, but the impact jolted my direction.

    I spun on the ice, and my back turned to another climbing beast. It took every bit of effort to keep my balance and control. I completed my turn as the wolfbear struck. Its attack caused it to slip, and I had to redirect my spinning backslash to counter. My rigid motion was graceless, and my blade cut deep into the beast''s back. I underestimated the thick muscles of this one.

    I ripped the sword from my hands, leaving the corpse and blade behind. The sword was a silly idea. One that I blame entirely on internal fantasy. One day, I''d be a sword lord. It wouldn''t be today or, rather, tonight.

    My anchor was reset, pulling me across the hill instead of down. The pack of predators was too thick below, and I wasn¡¯t confident I could fight them all at once.

    Instead of a sword, I created an ice lance and froze it to my grip. I raced across the ice hill at inhuman speeds. My lance lowered, and I skewered and discarded beast after beast. Some I could toss by flinging my lance; others required me to break my weapon and re-summon the tip.

    The ice was my killing ground, and I used every inch, navigating out of danger and into my enemies.

    My body was being pushed to the extreme. Even using mana for movement still required my effort to keep my center firm and balanced. My calves were on fire, and I had little movement out of my dead arms. My strength was improving. I''d be sore today, but I''d be stronger tomorrow.

    My biggest concern was mana fatigue. I had plenty of mana to burn, but my channels and core were wearing down. I would last the night, but not another day, at least not like this.

    The only light in the endless slaughter was that I was no longer the primary target of the spirit beasts. Some would engage if I got too close, but most settled for the free meals I left in my path. All things considered, this had been a productive night.

    I had all but collapsed when the moon retired, and the sun started its shift. I pushed beyond the realm of exhaustion, spending the entire morning devoted to slaying. It was gross. I felt gross.

    No matter how many times I washed away the blood and gore with my mana, I never felt clean.

    Body cultivation gains were not my only reward for the constant grind. Aside from sore muscles, mana worked passively to heal me. The unexpected blessing came after I fought for hours with a nasty claw gash on my back. It was nothing like the instant healing power life cultivators had. I didn''t care. My back healed, and I might learn to heal faster in time.

    The wolfbears never stopped coming. It didn''t matter how many I killed; two or three seemed to take its place. It was unnatural. The Bloodwoods was a large forest¡­ sure. I didn''t see how it sustained such a large population of what I assumed to be the apex predator. Maybe they were omnivores in secret and were just trying to maintain an image. Pack mentality had a tendency to create that kind of chauvinistic culture. What better way to assert your dominance than eating your guest¡ªlike a cult, but more feral... or less... It depended on the cult.

    There was no denying the massive beasts'' display of dominance over what I once called my pseudo-domain. Some sprawled out on the ice bellied up, soaking in the warmth of a noon sun. Others were lapping up the melted ice mixed with pools of blood. Most were still eating the dead, which was becoming quite the problem and was a major kink in my plan.

    Consumption was a beast''s path to power. Consuming cores, in particular, increased their growth. Initially, I planned for this when I baited the monsters with the dead. I did not plan for the endless wave of beasts that would eventually ignore me in their pursuit of power. Offense and nervousness nipped at my pride.

 12. Belly of the Beast

    Damn bears come to my house and ignore me? It was demoralizing, to say the least. If a beast is gonna eat me, I can kill it with little to no guilt. If a beast would not eat me and was enjoying a midday nap, how was I supposed to kill it? A spear to the heart, of course, but that did a number on the mind.

    Coward, greedy, and mongrel were just a few of the accusations I heard in the chanting laughter of the beasts.

    In a strange turn of events, I was completely ignored. The battle had turned from me skating and slaying to me searching and destroying. So it wasn''t much different, but it felt different, and that was important. Since I was ignored, I focused on the more significant threats: the beasts still eating.

    I knew my opponent was in trouble when I first saw it. The wolfbear swallowed chunks of meat by the armful. It started to gag, and I thought it was choking. So I stepped in for the easy assist. My ax happened to get caught in the act. The wolfbear folded its muscles and fur around my blade, and with an impressive act of bipedalism never displayed before by these beasts, it stood up. The power of the sudden stance ripped the ax and my attached hand along with my body toward its waiting paws. The bear swallowed me in the depths of its massive arms.

    My back broke, and my ribs were shredded. Worst of all, I couldn''t scream. My face was buried into the belly of the beast, and I was suffocating.

    I didn''t know what finally killed me. All I knew was that it was painful and I hated it.

    <hr>

    I woke up in a puddle of water. My hand stretched out, and blue refreshing mana accumulated on my fingers.

    Tenty laid on the ground next to my impaled body. His arm was stretched out¡ªfallen from when he died. I averted my gaze from Sasha''s impaled corpse. Flint''s shattered pieces were harder to ignore as I scoured the ground for equipment. I needed weapons and protection. I could only get so far on my ice summons.

    I nearly fled when I stumbled upon a pile of ash. I knew that was where Lana died, but I still hovered near to check the source of a glimmer¡ªLight''s Edge. Somehow, it survived the intense fire. It was the weapon I needed. However, I couldn''t get myself to pick it up and nearly vomited when I tried. Fire, dirt, and ash were not potent enough to remove her scent.

    I backed away from the sword and the remains of my love. "I will save you," I said solemnly. "Just give me time." I gave myself a moment to recover and continued to search the grounds further away from my friends.

    There was some quality gear here. Which wasn''t surprising considering the battle that took place here. The Deliverer¡ªEmperor Mage of Alderi¡ªwas here, as was a host of his guards, the octopi people, and some mercenaries from a band I did not recognize.

    A rendezvous of big powers that ended in death and destruction.

    Most of the gear I found belonged to the mercenaries. They were a sizable group of twenty members. Their tattered clothing and armor were no better than the rags that I wore. I didn''t find dead Alderians, and the Octi apparently didn''t have more than the cloth robes they wore¡ªcloth robes that mainly were burned.

    My haul included a long sword of high steel enhanced with durability and sharpening scripts¡ªbasic upgrades that cost ten thousand credits. The scripting on the blade was nearly flawless; my guess was that the owner paid double. The sword''s sheath was damaged, so I settled for a belt that I tucked the sword into. I also found a quiver in decent condition that was still filled with arrows.

    I didn''t bother inspecting the bow and equipped the quiver with an attached pauldron covering my shoulder. The pauldron was also made of high steel, and the mercenary band''s emblem was etched into it.

    The symbol was a sword shrouded in fire. I tried to access my wealth of knowledge on the emblem and came up short¡ªFire Blade¡­ Burning Blades¡­ Crimson Cutters? Fire could be crimson, right? That felt right.

    For a moment I considered the emblem belonging to the Silvers. The mercenary band from Mauna was known for their legendary skills with weapons, especially the sword. However, the Silver¡¯s emblem had nothing to do with flames, not even their most artistic versions. Mana was somewhat contradictory to their beliefs that a person¡¯s physical skills should be enough to end all fights. The concept would be heavily ridiculed if the mercenary band wasn¡¯t so good at backing up their claims.

    If the mercenaries had been Silvers, the outcome of the battle might¡¯ve been a lot different.

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    As I turned to leave, I spotted a hand covered in leather. The emblem must''ve distracted me from thoroughly searching the dead. I grabbed the dismembered hand and placed it against mine. The act was unnecessary; it was clear the gloved hand was smaller. Still, it was a nice glove; it had to be if it survived this disaster. My commitment to loot the dead was renewed as I searched for the body with the missing hand. The completion of the quest promised a great reward, a matching glove.

    "Why do you persist in wasting so much time?"

    I instinctively looked around for the speaker. Tents'' speaking was inconsistent. It was only in my mind, or he was talking like he was near me. That right there was evidence he was messing my mind.

    "This was your gift, wasn''t it?" I asked a bit sarcastically as I held up the glove.

    "For you to squabble with the dead and play handsies?" The squid said¡ªmid-glove slip. Pretty good timing. I¡¯d give him that.

    The problem was I had no wrist to hold onto and was far too squeamish to reach my finger into the open hand. Even if the blood was dried, I didn''t want to chance it. There were so many tiny bones in the palm. One of them could easily pierce my skin. That was an instant reset. So I delicately held on to the fingers and shimmied the glove off. I almost had enough flesh to grip before I was rightfully called out.

    "Well, he wasn''t going to need it anytime soon." I shook my head in disgust. "Dead joke. I know. I developed a nasty habit during my solo runs." I extracted the glove and dropped the hand, heel-kicking it behind me to hide my dirty deed. I didn''t know if my parasite could see me, but I was feeling extra judged. That didn''t stop me from completing my quest.

    "Congratulations, you found the missing hand."

    "Glove," I said with a corrective tone. For some reason, Tents brought out all of my arrogance. Maybe it was the tentacles that I imagined flailing about. Or perhaps the soft face. "I know. No respectable swordsman wore gloves¡­ gauntlets maybe, but that''s different."

    "Dueling gloves." Squid''s response was quick and unexpected.

    "I said respectable." Damn. Couldn''t bite my tongue fast enough.

    "So why would you want gloves?" Squids asked. No way was this part of his script. Was he humoring me now?

    "I''m not a swordsman, and my sword was made of ice," I said, explaining everything and nothing at the same time. If Tents was picking up what I was throwing down, he''d understand. "It''s slippery when wet." Surely, he understood now. ¡°With more time the glove might not be needed.¡±

    "You do not have the gift of time." The flayen didn''t understand. "You only have a week, and then you will die if you can even make it that long."

    Harsh but fair. My track record hadn¡¯t been astounding as of late. That didn''t matter. ''The tides turned to those that turned them,'' or so they said.

    It just so happened that in a moment of pure inspiration, I spotted a mercenary I hadn''t yet inspected. I held my head high as I casually waded towards him. In my mind, I could hear the sloshing of steps as Tents reluctantly followed.

    "And then what?" I asked, nearing the body. I needed a good distraction.

    "You know exactly what,¡± Squid said. ¡°The same thing that has been happening. You come back to life to die again in another week."

    "The gift of time¡­"

    Tents forced a chuckle and shook his head, if only in my mind. My distraction landed.

    "It was not a gift. It was a curse. You will grow tired of these cycles. Life will lose meaning. You will experience emptiness and despair. Any happiness will be false and fleeting. In time, you will learn that time was not your friend and never was."

    I paused mid-glove snatching to consider the warning.

    "Is that why you gave up?" I asked.

    "I never had a chance."

    Our conversation lingered in silence. I wasn''t sure if I should prod out more information, act delicately, or complete my quest. My nature ruled out the first option, allowing the second to take place, and my hand was already committed to the task. It was more weird and wrong to be holding the corpse''s lone hand at this point.

    I snatched my reward from the claws of defeat just as Tents started to speak again.

    "The Monarch Stone was never meant for me. I was just Balthazar''s attendant. He was our champion. It made no sense that your emperor was here, and it made less sense that he was immune to our powers. Balthazar was a god among our people and died to a scourge like them."

    It took all my effort to keep my thoughts tamed and retorts silenced. My parasite was feeling things and I could respect it. I had enough sorrow that I tried to keep buried. I''d hate for someone to trudge up the memories and desecrate them with mockery.

    "I absorbed the Monarch Stone, as Balthazar commanded with his dying thoughts. Your emperor might have anticipated our arrival but was clueless about our power. Still, I was a demon in your world. As I consumed the stone, my body was cut down. I tried to escape my death two hundred times. I lived thousands of years in that time. Each path always led to death."

    "So why did you bring me into this mess? I was content with my absolution."

    "I do not know," Tents said.

    It was subtle, but I noticed a trace of deceit in his denial. Maybe it was how fast he responded or the cadence of his speech. It was drastically different from when he was sharing his story.

    "You should not have been caught in my recursions. The fact that you were remembering each death was an anomaly. For people whose existence was based on facts, truth, and knowledge, anomalies were either a blessing or a curse. I think in my moment of desperation, I looked to you for hope."

    There it was again¡ªsome more false honesty.

    Tents was dangerous. He was playing to my emotions and trying to dig up a desire to be needed¡­ to feel important¡­ to be a hero. He knew I wanted to save my friends, and he was pushing me to have the same feeling for his people. No, he wanted me to relate to his plight and feel the need to help. It was a good move. If he could help me save my friends, did I not owe it to him to try and help him save his?

 13. Heart of Cultivation

    Tents was no longer with me conversationally, leaving me with much to chew on. He had a path for me, but I wasn''t following it. Like I decided back on the pike, I was no longer a side character. I was the main hand, not a follower. Damn it. Did that make me the hero?

    The rotten urchin was turning my tide and messing with my mind. I shook my head a few times for clarity. It didn''t help. I had to actively focus on my new gloves to get out of my mind.

    The leather gloves were a nice pair. The leather was soft, durable, and grippy. I washed them off a few times and extracted the water before trying them on. The blasted gloves didn''t fit, and it wasn''t just a length problem that I could solve by nipping the tips. The width was too tight as well. I threw the gloves on the ground in disgust, feeling the betrayal stabbing deep into my heart.

    As the gloves stared at me contemptuously, I churned some crafty ideas. I picked the gloves back up, apologized for my irrational behavior, and promised to do better. In seconds, I''d broken down walls impeding my character growth. Soon, my butterfly¡­

    That''s it. I needed to leave this place. My mind was not in the right place for more cultivation.

    I added more layers of ice to my cocoon, enough to give me a couple days of protection, tucked my gloves into my belt, and headed into the woods to clear my thoughts. What I really needed was a body of water. Ponds always calmed the mind. That was my new quest.

    I had traveled through these woods a few times now. Once while I was making up maps, another time as a guide, and the last was on an Adventurer''s mission. The first two trips were the opposite of the last one¡ªpleasant and peaceful. Though there could be a fair argument about the company being insufferable during those trips.

    Still, it was as they said, "the luxury of reminiscing is the power to romanticize." However, <i>they</i> were a bunch of snobbish historians whom I often competed against in business. People either wanted to explore the past through books or discover the world with maps. Never both and absolutely not at the same time. I blamed historians for creating a past to which the future could never catch up.

    The Bloodwoods, I found, never suffered the problem that plagued history and reality. No matter how much the tales exaggerated the trees, they were always larger in person. It was humbling to walk at their bases. Their girth was no less impressive than the wolfbears, even that was not doing it justice. Houses could be carved into the base of the trees.

    There were even rumors of hidden villages within this forest. I never found them during my excursions, though I never encountered wolfbears either. So who''s to say that wasn''t real. Probably historians¡­

    What I found most fascinating about the Bloodwoods was that massive trees maintained a delicate balance. They did not pull mana greedily and rob other flora of growth, nor did they overbear with the release of their own energy. They maintained a symbiotic relationship with the entire ecosystem. The world felt properly balanced here. Each piece of the forest had its place and purpose, all working together to grow¡ªnot just grow. The forest flourished.

    I walked a few more hours south, navigating hills as landmarks and recalling my memories to guide me. I turned east from Lone Rock and spotted the entrance to the hidden spring.

    The spring was the one area in the forest with a bit of overgrowth. Vines tangled with leaves and wove a natural barrier, hiding a pool of water. Even calling it an overgrowth was a stretch. The patterns of the weave looked like the work of an artisan. There were no tangles or snares, and it didn''t look out of place. It was just a natural wall of beautiful greenery. On the other side a paradise of crystal-clear water and bright flowers waited.

    The spring was the Bloodwood''s reservoir of water. There were several pockets of pools like this throughout the forest. This one just happened to be the closest to me. The pockets were a balancing act of the forest. After water transpired through the trees, the high-reaching leaves would absorb some of the vapors, condensing and trickling back down. Water was shared through a connected root system and eventually stored in small pockets. These pockets hydrated the small flora that often never felt a drop of rain. It also served much of the fauna as well.

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    It was no wonder the forest felt so tranquil. Water mana was every bit of existence as earth, light, and life. I walked through the natural barrier, careful to not upset it, stripped down, and waded into the crystal clear water.

    One of the many perks of being attuned to water was near-perfect temperature regulation. I could live in an ice cave and never be cold. The heat of deserts never fazed me. Fire¡­ well, that still burned, but that was different. The point was that water was comfortable, and being engulfed in the pure spring of the Bloodwood was peak harmony.

    I floated in a state of complete content until I was at peace with myself. When I felt calm, I opened my channels and began to cycle. Since I was already here I could use the spring to purify my mana.

    I pulled my mana from my channels and let it mix and flow with the ambient energy of the spring. The nourishing mana flowed back into my body more pure and refined than when it left. I continued the exercise, further refining my mana and strengthening my soul. Cores and channels were like a muscle. The more they were used, the stronger they became.

    While I maintained my spirit I meditated on my soul and how it had been developed.

    I was never among the elites of cultivators. To say I was passable was generous. I only managed to break through the initial rank of page because I enlisted in the Alderi military like all youth of the Islands of Mauna. I was given pills, elixirs, and training.

    Mana manipulation didn''t come naturally to me. At first, it was because of my frustration with my bound mana. I didn''t want water. I presumed it weak, lacking in utility, and having little benefit to my way of life. My parents couldn''t afford any techniques, manuals, or resources on how to use other elements, so when I was of age, the only option I had was the prevalent mana of the islands¡ªwater.

    When I was recruited into the Alderi Marines, I learned to hide and conceal my presence. My strength wasn''t high enough to throw ice shards that would deal any damage, and my control limited my chance of building new skills. I was carried by my connections to my squad and the fact that I was a decent ranger. I couldn''t throw ice missiles, but I could shoot arrows with the best of them, and my tracking and scouting were adept thanks to my training in wisdom and survival pathways.

    After separating from the Marines, I again became complacent with my cultivation. I had enough resources to build a small shop and get by on my skills. The path to power burned me out.

    Years as a map maker and part-time guide kindled a new desire for growth. That desire was recognized when I started working with Lana. My understanding of mana and cultivation began to flourish with a new purpose.

    Water was no longer just the element I had no choice to bind. It was the only element right for me. It was free, adaptable, powerful, and passive. It could be anything I wanted it to be. The skills I learned as a squire, ice dome, freeze flashes, and ice clone were thanks to the training I was given by my new friends.

    Essentially, I was a late bloomer in terms of cultivation. Even with my new-found passion for my bound element, as a squire, mana only enhanced my abilities. It was never a primary weapon. It didn''t need to be either. As a ranger, I wasn''t the damage dealer for my squad. My role was scouting, support, and backup. Rarely did I need to defend myself with ice barriers. Sometimes, I would end fights before they started with a well-placed shot, but that was only when strategy called for it.

    Dependability added to my mana reluctance. Ninety percent of the time, cultivators could count on mana to work. However, mana could be stripped from a cultivator in several ways: a dark-attuned cultivator with a silencing skill, muting runes, mana-deficit environments¡ªlike my ice cube of preservation or a cultivator with a domain strong enough to restrict spirits.

    It only took a few days as a knight to remove my reservations about relying on mana. Maybe my stronger connection to water allowed me to trust it more. Or perhaps it was a greater understanding of what I could accomplish with mana. More realistically, it was knowing that failure did not have the lasting sting of death. I had the chance to fail as many times as I wanted. This would allow me to push the cyan energy to its limits.

    Tents wanted me to pursue his path to power, focusing solely on the mind. That didn¡¯t sit well. It wasn¡¯t that I didn¡¯t trust the flayen either. I felt the same aversion when I thought of focussing only on my body or spirit. My path to power was going to be different. Most would call my path foolish. I didn''t care. My mind was made up.

    Like Bloodwood Forest, I¡¯d seek power through balance, reforging my mind, body, and spirit. As I solidified my path a comforting chill passed through me. It was as if the energy inside me agreed.

    Balance. Like the Bloodwoods. Like water.

 14. Leveling with Trees

    The calm, refreshing spring of the bloodwoods cycled through my body, purifying my soul and repairing my body essences. The fourth layer of my core, the newest layer, was about a third full of water mana. I could''ve stayed back at the graveyard and continued to absorb the mana there, I figured it was best to break up iterations. After dying a couple hundred times on the same spike, I was due for some change in scenery.

    As I meditated on my path, I reflected on the battle with the wolfbears. In my first fight as a knight, I used more mana than I ever had in all my prior fights. Not being able to rely on a squad was a huge difference-maker.

    That was the largest ice field I''d ever created, and I could add layers, turning it into a hill. That initially put a lot of strain on my soul. It was the equivalent of doing hundreds of push-ups for a pre-workout. The field was worth it for the advantage it gave me and the new movement skill I developed.

    Ice slide was gonna be a life-changing skill.

    The worst part about being a guide was walking. I declined most jobs because I didn''t have the feet to weather it. Once I master snowshoeing, I''ll never walk again. I''ll glide my way through life, passing all the walking suckers behind with a smile and a laugh.

    My summons were also better as a result of my expanded soul. Arrows were created in a split second, my swords were almost the quality of a weaponsmith, and I had enough flexibility to change my weapons on the slide¡ªspears, hammers, and axes were only a thought and push of mana away. Even my ice barrier was stronger and more durable.

    The thrill of learning and upgrading skills intoxicated me. For a moment, I let my mind wander down the infinite roads of possibility. Two skills I hoped to develop in the subsequent few cycles were ice armor and clone.

    I already had the skill to create a clone. It was by far the most complex ability I had. The ability involved three parts. First, I made the body of ice and invested a portion of my mana in it so it could function. The ice body was then anchored to an illusion of me that covered the entire clone. The addition of scripts and some extra mana made the mirage life-like. Once the host body was finished, the last step was giving it its sentience. I had to split my focus and allow a portion of it to control the ice body.

    The split focus took a large amount of training to develop. It was only possible due to the mind essences I previously cultivated. I hadn''t been able to split my mind since escaping my cube except for passive focus, which wouldn''t be strong enough to control a vessel.

    Before creating a new mirage, I needed to split my mind again. To do that, I always kept my active and passive mind busy. The passive mind was the key. If I could train the passive mind to become more active, I''d have a new split focus.

    Mind cultivation was a messy process, but if pursued properly, it could give cultivators a massive advantage¡ªthe same could be said for spirit and body paths. I''d have a powerful mind but miss out on two other essences.

    Planning to create a clone and being a clone led to a minor existential crisis.

    This body I possessed felt so much like me. Like I was myself. Yet it was made no differently than how I intend to make my next clone¡ªice, mana, illusions, and scripts. I couldn''t tell it apart from my original body; I felt pain, hunger, and emotions. I sweated when I ran through the forest. The spring water calmed and relaxed me. I could taste food and enjoy it.

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    Everything signaled to my mind that this body was me. But it wasn''t my body; it wasn''t me. I was still dying on a pike. In a week or so, if I managed to survive that long, I would be forced to see the real me. Which wasn''t a problem, was it? My soul was inside my clone. Did that not make me whole? What if I couldn''t save myself and had to stay in this body to live? Could I accept that? Could Lana?

    Lana would probably have less of an issue with it than I would. She could create three clones. If she kept it to two, she''d have enough skill to cultivate with both of them¡ªincreasing her strength at twice the speed of a regular practitioner. Lana would understand, not only because she was familiar with clones but also because she was just accepting of people.

    Why else would she find interest in a mediocre map maker¡­

    I found comfort in that thought and put my worries to ease. If Lana could accept me, I could accept me. Before any more heavy thoughts could surface, I changed my focus to the skill I''d probably learn before I managed to create another clone¡ªice armor.

    Ice armor was a skill I''d seen many water cultivators pull off during fights. It was always considered a top-tier protection skill in tournaments, duels, or wars. Ice armor was like having an ice dome permanently shielding the cultivator.

    The quality of the skill also meant that it was a prized technique. The knowledge of creating the armor was not shared freely. If one wanted to learn, one needed a generous water mentor or enough money to buy the technique manual. I never had a water mentor or a manual and wasn''t interested in learning about the protective technique then. I had no need for it.

    Now that I''d be fighting alone for a while, it felt appropriate to learn the technique. I wasn''t ready to leave the Bloodwoods yet. It still had everything I needed. My plan was to try to develop my own technique while I continued to fight and absorb mana.

    If I didn''t have the technique down by the time I was ready to leave, I would haul out a bunch of cores and pay for the manual. I''d just have to kill a lot of wolfbears. However, leaving the woods for a loop or two to gain the skill seemed a good idea, too. The ability would make body cultivation an easier path to walk down.

    Besides the skills I gained on the last loop, I made good progress in training my body. Part of the reason I visited the spring was to aid in my physical recovery. During my fight, I improved my strength pathway by nearly a quarter. The gains were incredible, and it was all due to the slaughter on my ice hill. I could do push-ups all day for a month, and I would be lucky if I had managed a ten percent increase in the body pathway.

    I was always interested in the way the soul broke down progression. If I looked inward, I could see my soul in its entirety. It was a mix of mana, the essences I''d cultivated, and my channels. It was a beautiful mess that was hard to comprehend until you focused deeper on the energy. The mana inside presented itself as a core; some even said it looked like a record of stats.

    My ''core'' broke down into the layers I ranked up and had a record of the paths I ranked up in. It included skills I learned and perks I gained from pursuing a pathway. It even had my ranger classification recorded. It wasn''t words or text that I read on my core. Instead, impressions and images of information¡ªscraps of memory¡ªcreated my soul''s foundation.

    Some scholars believed that if you were to wipe one''s soul, you''d be wiping their entire identity. I wasn''t so sure about that, not that I considered myself a scholar, but it seemed there was much more to a person than their mana and how they gained their mana.

    My core showed me a readable summary of my cultivation, kept track of my current progress, and provided an endpoint. I could see fragments of a layer forming around my core. Each essence cultivated was like a stone being placed to create a new level. Once I had three levels, a foundation was formed, creating a new layer of my soul. Then, it was only a matter of breaking through my existing layers with a bounty of mana to gain my next rank. Conveniently, I already had a lake of mana waiting for me at every cycle. That meant I just needed to gain more levels.

    I reached deep into my water senses and tapped into my mana''s wide connection throughout the forest. I couldn''t cover the entire forest, but I could sense a large enough area that I could reach my restart. The forest was lifeless, but the predators hiding among the trees were not. They''d feast, we''d fight, and I''d gain levels. It was the quickest path to power.

 15. The Beasts and Me

    I took a deep breath, allowing the complex blend of aromas to linger a moment longer. The sweet hint of wildflowers, mineral-infused water, luscious greenery, and the fragrant, nutty smell of the bloodwoods danced in a delicate balance that was as refreshing as intoxicating.

    I pulled back my mana, filling my channels and a little more than half of my core, careful not to take more than what I left behind. Like the rich aroma, my mana felt more vibrant than before. The same could be said for my muscles, which I stretched out methodically.

    Overall, my time in the Alderi regiments was terrible. The food was bland, housing was communal, and pay was non-existent. We had little freedom outside of command and less inside. Missions lasted months and ended in a battle that could''ve been handled with less fighting if preparations were taken seriously.

    For all the wealth the Alderi empire had, they seemed extra stingy on proper transportation. After fighting, we''d have a long walk back home. They called it patrol duty, everyone in the army knew they weren''t willing to pay the portal expenses.

    One benefit of being a regular was learning their various katas. The Alderians were known for their military power because their basic training was anything but basic. They had specialized training regimens for classes, mana types, fighting styles, and cultivation. Working on mind cultivation¡ªthere was a kata for that. Need to improve the body? Alderi had dozens of katas for that alone.

    If someone wanted to train with weapons, the empire had a system for them. It wasn''t that they had systems, either. Their katas were known as the best in the world. It was the military''s most considerable drawing power. They could train and develop cultivators'' skills far better than an individual could do independently. All it took was four years of devoted service.

    After four years as a regular and two as a marine, doing my daily katas was no different than waking up each morning. I worked through six: simple stretches, sword forms, muscle warm-ups, archery, mind rhythms, and spirit flows. The last two were usually done at night when I focused on those areas of cultivation. If I was being honest, though, I rarely focused on spirit flows.

    Once satisfied with my stretches, I worked through the four other physical katas and ended with another round of stretching. I must admit, between the spring, peaceful trees, and melodious chirping of birds, I was in a peak cultivating moment. My body felt healthy, my mind was relaxed, and my spirit was rejuvenated.

    I would stay in this small paradise for another week, at least, if I didn''t have pressing matters to attend to. Immediate issue number one, the diners were almost done dining and were destined to dash. Gluttonous woflbears demanded I make haste.

    I surged power through my body, pumping the energy faster than my heart. With the precision of a cartographer and the speed of a panther, I sprinted through the forest, navigating the trees and landmarks. My destination was mapped, and I was determined to arrive on time.

    Before my rise in rank, I could reach speeds of twenty miles per hour. I was roughly fifty percent faster. I needed to be quicker.

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    I covered my feet in a thin layer of water and created a distant anchor. The anchor pulled each step forward, and I power glided through the woods. Step, pull, slide ¡ª it was almost like I had a rope I was pulling on. Trees whipped by. The rocks, roots, plants, and dirt didn''t deter my steps. With my traveling speed, I slid over the natural barriers with ease. Around seven miles, my thighs and calves were feeling the strain. I would have to spend a moment to recover them before I waded into battle.

    Eleven minutes later, I reached the clearing. Despite the speed and distance, I was light of breath. My mana and channels were still fresh. The only recovery I needed was in my legs. As I stretched, I pumped water around them and let the hydrotherapy relax and recover my muscles. It took another minute of recovery before I felt fit to fight. The recovery was desperately needed.

    The wolfbears were no longer the simpletons they were in the previous life. These beasts had feasted on cultivators'' flesh and absorbed the rich mana. Like the monster that ended my last loop, the two dozen wolfbears were double in size. However, their evolution did not stop there. Sharp fangs jutted from the top and bottom of their wide mouths. Their fur was several inches thicker and had a black sheen to it. There was less laughter in their howls that rumbled the earth.

    Several of the beasts were lying on the ground in a post-feast nap. A small pack scoured the ground, lapping up any remaining scraps. Seven wolfbears gnawed and scratched at the ice, preserving my body. One side was whittled down, nearly exposing the flesh of my slightly stretched-out arm. Even though Cali was partially covered in my ice, like all other corpses, his body was devoured.

    From the cover of the woods, I watched the beast attack the ice barrier. By my estimates, I had at least thirty minutes before my ''life anchor'' would be in danger. A wiser person would use the time to plan and calculate. At times, I could be that kind of person. That was not this cycle. The beasts had ripened¡ªthey were no longer the common rank spirit beasts. They passed the rank of superior and were now grand rank. Their cores, if successfully harvested, would be worth a small fortune.

    I kept my presence minimal as I crept out into the clearing. My steps were light, my breathing even lighter. I was semi-crouched. I was confident I could sneak up on the sleeping beast if there was any cover. This graveyard was barren. The only memorial was my ice shrine, which only offered a temporary distraction.

    I held my breath as I approached the napping dogs. Their foul breath permeated the air, and I had to hold back my insides from forcing their way out. Their snores mixed with the growling chatter of the unsatiated predators, creating a cacophony of noises and smells most unpleasant to the senses.

    My hand tightened on the leather grip of my ice claymore.

    A beast in the middle of the slumbering pack raised an ear¡ªmy step scratched the ground instead of smoothly landing. I paused in my tracks, lowered my presence, and waited. The ears remained alert, but the head didn''t join and remained asleep.

    I was only ten steps away. As I took my next step, the light sleeper whimpered a sad cry louder than the choir of snoozers.

    Damn. My heart pounded, betraying me like the coward it always was. My thoughts were no better. Run. Run. Run. I kept cool on the outside and stepped closer.

    Three more steps, and I would be in range.

    The whimpering welp wasn''t finished. A ghost howl escaped its mouth. I stood in anticipation for the pack to awaken. My two hands held my sword out, ready for an attack. With each breath, I nearly choked on the tension.

    I wasn¡¯t an assassin. I was betrayed by the lure of an easy kill. It was foolish.

    One of the beasts raised its head, its nose raised high and sniffing. In my mind, I tried to pull back all of my scents, keeping them hidden. It was a feeble thought. The sniffer rested its head atop another prone body.

    Before I took the next step, I became keenly aware of watchful eyes. The sleepers were still sleeping and the ice lickers couldn¡¯t be bothered. It was the scavengers that found their missing morsel.

 16. The Wasted Life

    Damnit. Shit. Damn foolish plans and the lack thereof. Walk into a pack of sleeping beasts and pay no attention to the beasts still trying to eat¡­ Brilliant.

    Even if I wasn''t an assassin, this was poor ranger work. My only saving grace was no witness... and the greedy scavengers were not planning to share their new meal.

    The beasts'' growls were silent. Their tongues licked their blood-covered lips¡ªthe taste boosted their appetite. Their muscles strained in anticipation. We danced an awkward dance. The prey stared down at their meal. Their meal not ready to be consumed and nervous of multiple threats shifted his eyes everywhere.

    The intensity became too much for one giddy prowler. A cry of delight shattered our perverse, intimate moment. The laughter was met with growls of dissatisfaction. The beast next to the yapper nipped the culprit''s ear. The yapping got louder.

    Sog¡¯s breath.

    The slumbering beasts no longer slept. The ice lickers abandoned their post. All twenty-four beasts were focused on me. My heart pounded. My thoughts sang the chorus of a coward. The beat was wrong, and the lyrics were repetitive and a repeat of the previous verse. The message was clear. <i>Run.</i>

    If this was any other life, I''d run. Bloody abyss, I wouldn''t be in this mess if this was any other life. I knew I couldn''t sneak up on the beasts. It was a suicide plan from the start. However, my life was not like any other, and it would be just as foolish to treat it as such. After all, what was life if it was not to waste?

    I would waste a thousand if I could stand at Lana''s side again.

    Impassioned by the thought of a fool, I abandoned my sneaky stance and squared up for a fight. Cyan energy cycled through my channels. I harnessed my power and manifested an iced dome around me and the sleeping beasts. I was still vastly outnumbered in my shell.

    Before the trapped beasts could attack, I opened and fled from my shell, locking them in a snow globe prison. I reinforced the shell with more mana and then ran back to the forest.

    Turns out, the mind and heart curated passion. If they weren''t convinced, neither was I.

    Wolfbears hounded my back as I water anchored toward the forest. Their hot breath pressed on my back. I sensed their drool dripping to the ground, only to be torn apart by the claws ripping into it. The same claws hoping to rip into me.

    We were in a full sprint, the predators and the prey; the forest was growing closer but not at the rate of wolves. In a surge of force, a wall of water exploded behind me, becoming a barrier of ice.

    I heard the slams of heads crashing into my barrier but didn''t dare turn around. Not yet. I sprinted another fifteen yards and created a dome of ice that reached my wall. The stragglers weren''t phased by my blockade and navigated around the wall with the elegance of ever-sidestepping critters. My barrier formed a second too slow, trapping two of the clever side-steppers inside with me.

    I drew my frozen claymore enhanced with leather grips of holding from my back.

    The wolfbears worked together to divide my attention; one stalked to the left and the other to my right. The other beasts have recovered, though a couple are still severely shaken and are ripping into my dome.

    I reinforced my barricade with more mana as I danced with the beasts inside. The grand rank beasts were massive before. Trapped inside with me, they seem to double in size. I was unsure my bubble was big enough for us. The wolves were certain it wasn''t.

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    Outside my dome, the wolfbears spread out in their hunting formation, simultaneously curbing my cowardice.

    I threw an ice spear at the wolf on my left. The spear struck the beast''s face. It whimpered and snarled, losing only a moment of focus. The beast on my right used the opening of my throw to attack. It lunged in the air, mouth wide open, and fangs glaring at me. Its front legs spread wide with its claws unsheathed.

    I froze the ground as soon as the beast was airborne. With a lunge of my own, I slid beneath the pouncing predator and rammed my claymore into its belly. My sword, caught in the fur, flesh, and ribs of the beast, ripped from my hands, leaving me with a leather grip and no sword.

    I cursed my foolish craftsmanship. Cutting my slide short, I pulled back on a water anchor, and got to my feet.

    The skewered beast made a mess of my ice field with its vile blood. With my sword stuck in its belly, it couldn''t stand upright and struggled on its side, howling in anguish. If it were still a common rank beast, it''d be frozen. Now, my mana barely slowed the upgraded beast.

    Spearface, the only standing wolfbear in my dome, recovered from my initial spear throw only to slip on the ice. As it struggled to stand, I threw two more spears at it. Both hit the wolf directly, once to the side and once more to the face. Neither had the power to break the skin.

    I refined the next spear with a long and slender point. It was more delicate, but if I landed a direct hit, I was sure it would do some piercing.

    I lined up my throw as the beast shook off the second spear to the face and attacked.

    Spearface, confident in its thickness, didn''t waste its time dodging. It stood its ground and took the spear to the throat like a champion. To Spearnecks credit, my pointy stick didn''t slam through as deep as I thought it would, and only a few inches of the tip punched through. Still, any stick to the throat hurt, and extra damage was added if the stick was stuck in the throat.

    Between Swordbelly and Stickthroat, the sound inside the dome was horrendous. Gurgling, hacking, howling, growling, and still laughter¡ªwhich seemed entirely inappropriate.

    The beasts outside the dome were no different. They watched with callous hunger, drooling at the mouth to get a piece of the action. They would get their turn. I summoned a war pike and cautiously walked toward Stickthroat; it made the most unpleasant noises of the two and was a clear contender for victim number one.

    My strike hit quick and true, silencing the beast with one fell swing.

    Growling coming from Swordbelly turned to whimpering. It tried to crawl away but didn''t get far. I left the two beasts where they lay. Blood puddled and melted the ice below.

    I took a deep breath, planning my next fight, and added more ice to the ground and my shell. A cloud of steam filled the inside. Before it could block my view from the outside, I selected my target and let the next fighter enter my cell.

    Brokenfang, a wolfbear named after its peculiar fang broken at its girthy midpoint, had a psychotic whistle to its growl. Psychotic because it was clearly hurt, and yet it laughed and growled as it frantically bounced back and forth on the ice as if jumping gave it a better footing. The blood dripping from its face did the animal no favors in mental stability, nor did its jumping save it from my icey field.

    Brokenfang slipped, slamming its body on the ground with a thud. The beast couldn''t pull its legs back in to regain its footing, and I pelted it with several of my special piercing spears. It took eight hits to freeze the beast and three hits with my hammer to shatter it.

    My fog completely filled the inside of my dome, concealing me from the outside. Confidence pooled to my side, growing by the minute.

    I opened the dome, letting two beasts in. One had an injury bleeding near its eye. The other was a masterful sidestepper who practiced not only agility but caution as well. The monsters stayed side by side, hugging my barrier.

    Though I stood near the two beasts, I didn''t feel the weight of their gaze upon me. Their first mistake was not sensing my presence when they entered, and their second was entering my dome.

    I stepped away from the false barrier the beast used for security and rammed my short spear into the back of the beast near me. Bloodeyes stiffened but couldn''t move. My spear severed a nerve, dealing a critical hit. Trepidsteps, true to character, stepped trepidly away from the wall and soon-to-be corpse Bloodeyes.

    I discovered in my mist if I applied a shroud of mana around me, I washed myself away from others'' perception. Or at least that was my theory at work.

    Although I remained at Trepidstep¡¯s side¡ªgiving enough space for Trepids to be within reach of my spear but not close enough to risk bumping into it¡ªthe beast couldn¡¯t sense me. Trepid kept its body low and prowled the perimeter. With every step I took, stalking the beast, my theory became a reality.

    Inside my shell, I was a ghost. I slayed the weary walker silently. As his body hit the ground, I opened the barrier for my next victim.

 17. Ghost in a Shell

    It was a brutal battle for survival in my shell. I abandoned the stalking and stabbing for swinging and slaying. There was a lot more swinging than slaying. What I lacked in efficiency, I was making up for in gains. My arms burned from the strain. And while I had every advantage in the fight, the wolfbears were incredibly fierce fighters¡­ if given the chance.

    I didn''t plan to give them a chance, but my big and mighty sword was not nearly as sharp as needed to cut the thick fur.

    I''d cut, they''d swipe back. I dodged, and they pushed forward, only to lose me in my mist. The three-step dance continued until my partner could no longer stand. I''d end their life quickly, thank them for the battle, and then invite my next partner.

    It got a bit weird in my dome and very crowded with the dead. The killing floor got smaller, and I had to refine my weapon for the new stage. We were up close and personal.

    I delivered more strikes with my smaller blade and received a few injuries. One particular claw strike nearly severed my arm. That forced me into a full retreat, and I hid until my mana healed the wound. I was shocked to see that it fully recovered. The pessimist in me was sure I''d have to reset for it to be healed properly. Luckily, that wasn''t the case.

    I resumed the delicate dance with a newfound respect for Swiper, and we fought for several minutes before I could claim victory.

    The fight with the aggressive beast left me panting for air. Each gasp labored and tainted with the taste of iron. My lungs worked as hard as my heart pumped. I tried to control my breathing only to gag on the filmy wet residue I inhaled.

    Slowly. Softly. In and out¡ªI nearly choked on the foul air and had to fight off a coughing fit.

    I didn''t know how many beasts waited for me outside. Based on my senses, there were more than the ten or so grand rank beasts that I thought I had left.

    It didn''t matter. I needed out. I couldn''t breathe in any more of this bloody air.

    My barrier exploded into ice and mist. Shrapnel pierced the skin of weaker beasts, leaving the powerful unfazed. Mist filled the air, and I poured more mana into creating a large, dense fog. I still had my mana cloak, and as long as I kept my mist up, I''d be the hunter. I took in a couple large gasps of air, filling my lungs and heart.

    My head no longer felt light, and my balance was more stable. I probably pushed it too far in the murder dome.

    As I cleared my head from my personal fog, the distinct laughter of the wolfbears came crashing down. I was struck with a primal fear. Their presence was everywhere and closing in on me. The box was getting tighter. I was so small and weak. It was only fitting that I offer myself to the strong. They deserved me. It was my destiny¡ª

    A sharp pain shot in my mind. Laughter dulled from the bright pain. In the moment of clarity, I surrounded my ears with an ice band.

    The wolfbears closed in. I took another second to calm my nerves and then lashed out. Long sword in one hand, a battle ax in another. If anyone saw my fight, they would be disgusted by my methods. Even I couldn''t hold back my own judgment. Regardless of my savage technique, I cut through flesh and bone. When my weapons broke, I summoned new ones. This time, with two axes.

    I was as feral as the predators surrounding me.

    Gore covered my body, and I had to force myself to stop licking my lips that''d been dried from excessive mouth breathing. Though it hurt, I controlled my breathing to avoid the rusty haze permeating the battlefield. The haze followed wherever the battle took us. Death and blood painted new turf seconds after my arrival.

    I swung my axes until I couldn''t hold them anymore. I switched to Snowpiercer and found I had just enough strength to fire my bow. I delivered death with every shot. Even the grand rank beasts were slain easily.

    I was a bloody nightmare inside my fog.

    At some point, the sky darkened, and a trickle of water poured from the sky. The trickle turned to a downpour. The ground began to cool. Rain washed the grime from my body. Not contained in my shell, my fog slowly lifted. I no longer had the power to keep the mana from rising. The unveiled scene was sickening. I couldn''t count the dead, nor did I want to. Only a few more beasts remained.

    I was going to survive this fight. I had to endure. That was the third step in the body cultivation cycle.

    The wolfbears noticed my presence and charged together. Grit and determination aided each of my shots. I was going to live.

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    My bow shaked in my hand, the drawstring pulled to the extent of my strength. The half-shot would be enough. One beast down. Only seven left. I drew another arrow and willed myself to fire the shot. Six. I could only pull the bow a third of the way for the next two shots, bringing the count down to five.

    I pulled my last arrow before it would come to daggers and limp arms. It was only a quarter of a draw, so I aimed to wound. The pack leader was in my sights; as I released my breath and prepared to fire, my world turned black.

    I woke up standing in a puddle of water. My hand was stretched out. Blue refreshing mana accumulated on my fingers.

    Selene''s bloody damned pits. I died? I was winning that fight. I was going to survive. Soggy flaming bastard...

    I needed a moment to calm my nerves.

    The exhaustion that nearly claimed me at the end of the fight was only a haunting memory that lingered in my soul. I inhaled the air; it was still heavy with death, but at least I couldn''t taste it.

    I kept my eyes averted from my friends and decided to ignore the rest of the dead while I was at it. I was gonna need a good soak to fully recover. It took a couple more seconds to calm my nerves. It was strange; I didn¡¯t remember dying, and I wasn''t about to faint even though I was tired.

    It only took a quick glance at my frozen body for the realization to sink in. Either the contained beast broke through my dome, or the rain melted it. I completely forgot about the beasts I captured before my tactical retreat. They must''ve picked the more leisurely meal, and if the rain melted my dome, it would''ve melted my body.

    But why did it rain? It didn''t rain in the loop before the last, and I lived for the same amount of time. Even the amount of mana I expended was about the same, and I wasn''t nearly strong enough to affect the weather, not that I knew how.

    The only difference was my lack of cultivation at the beginning of the last loop. The influx of mana tended to affect weather and the environment, and even though the enlightened beasts consumed the dead, they couldn''t absorb the mana like awakened beings.

    So, if I didn''t cultivate the excess energy or remove my body, I might have two days tops before getting eaten or unthawed. That was good to know. Then again, Tents could''ve told me it was going to rain.

    I waited another moment for the inevitable retort. New life, passive-aggressive thoughts, and ignorant speculation were what I figured to be a surefire summoning ritual.

    <i>It is not rain</i>, I could imagine him saying, except it''d be more proper, and he''d exaggerate his syllables as he tended to. The retort didn''t come. I tried to sense my mind invader. Like all other attempts, I couldn''t find him.

    "You hear that Squids? I said thanks for the warning."

    The flayen didn''t take my bait; it was nice and chummy, too. That was the other thing about Squids. This relationship was one-sided. He got to frolic in my mind, doing as he pleased. I had to put in the work and effort. I was keeping us alive¡­ sorta and getting us strong. What was he doing?

    My thoughts lingered on my possessive companion before I shook my head clear and focussed on more productive pursuits¡ªmeditation and then cultivation.

    I was wrong about my earlier assumption. I didn''t live half as long in my last life as I did in the loop before. I spent nearly three days in this spot alone and then another day fighting. In my last loop, I was maybe two days max. My body cultivation gains were nearly the same, though. I had gained another quarter of a level in the strength pathway. I didn''t feel any stronger. Maybe I was a little faster? More explosive?

    I continued to control the flow of my thoughts, recounting the battle and finding ways to improve. I had a steel blade but never used it due to the demand for a larger weapon, and switching over to the blade in the middle of the fight was inconvenient when my summons was merely a thought away. So, what I needed was to improve my blade summoning. With enough practice, I was sure I could improve the sharpness of my weapon. I pushed the goal to later, adding it to my ever-growing list of things I needed to do. Countless lives... it didn''t feel like it was enough.

    When it came time to review my new skill, mist wraith, I was stoked. During that fight, I got to experience what light cultivators with the vanishing skill experienced all the time. It was a dark power that made me trust the creepers even less. Unlike the creepers vanishing whenever they pleased, mist wraith was very conditional. I needed mist and to be covered in my mana¡ªprojecting a water aura. Even then, I was not disappearing; I was more melding into my mist.

    The more I thought about it, the more limitations I found or theorized about. It wasn''t the ace in the sleeve I thought it would be. Cultivators with a high perception could pierce the veil, and the same could be said for spirit beasts.

    Air lancers could blow my mist away.

    Dark lancers could block my mana, cutting off my aura.

    Fire lancers could evaporate my mist or, even better, track my heat signatures.

    Light lancers had enough tricks that they would surely be able to find me, and life lancers were just plain hard to hide from.

    Death and earth lancers might cower at my might. I couldn''t think of ways they could counter my spell. I guess technically, a death lancer with the ability to absorb had the chance to use any skill.

    The pales were such cheaters when it came to abilities. Clearly, whatever higher power or force out there favored them. They even had their own motto: ''Death is power.'' I mean, it made sense because pales were strong, and killing was the fastest way for anyone to grow in power. It was still weird, and they let it go to their head.

    The pales weren''t even number one on the kill list. It was always bloomers first and then the pales if no sleepers were around. Everyone knew sleepers died first. No one was chanting, ''death to the sleepers,'' though, and all the dark cultivators I knew were somewhat normal. On top of that, I never once questioned the sleepers on whether my corpse would be used as their minion. Pales said they had a code. No one believed them.

    Probably the best use of my new ability was to get better at running away. The better I ran, the more likely I was to survive, which was essential to body cultivation. If I hadn''t died in those last two fights, I might have already had a complete level of strength.

    My fragile, weak body let me down. Perhaps it was time to start learning how to create ice armor.

 18. Ice Armor

    Water cultivators, dowsers, high in spirit cultivation, or natural talent could create ice armor at the page rank. The King of Kukoa was rumored to have summoned his armor when he was only a page. The whole royal family had a high affinity for water, though. Regular cultivators struggled to learn the skill if they were lower than squire rank.

    I never got close to creating an acceptable suit of armor.

    The method was similar to creating an aura. Mana was projected outside the body, maintaining a constant connection to the channels.

    Auras were created by pushing mana out from the entirety of channels. The aura of a cultivator provided a few advantages. It was proof of power; it could be protection from domains depending on how strong the aura was, and it allowed more control of mana, internal and external.

    Two aspects of cultivation determined an aura''s strength: the cultivator''s talent and the rank of their soul. Talent was a pathway of spirit cultivation, an area I haven''t touched yet. Eventually, I would have the perfect balance of body, mind, and spirit.

    It was a foolish idea, sure. Balance builds were mocked by many as inferior cultivation paths. A cultivator following the path of many could never keep up with those on the path of few. As far as I knew, only a few cultivators had the opportunity I did. Well, not the same opportunity as me, but they had time. The one common understanding was that balance required time. Time and even death was on my side.

    What I lacked in talent, I made up for with mana and experience. Mana came from my rank as a knight and experience from the many training sessions with Rocky and Sasha, who both cultivated their spirit to some extent. She kept it secret, but Sasha managed to reforge her soul.

    I pushed out the mana from my channels, allowing my dim aura to form. I wasn''t going to impress anyone with my power. The thin layer of water mana circulated around me. It was imperceptible to the eye and could only be felt or sensed with energy perception. It was like wearing the softest blanket that wrapped perfectly around my body. This feeling was different for each cultivator, depending on their mana.

    I focused on my aura, noting how it ebbed and flowed around me. It was an ocean of power with an endless depth, yet it remained calm, gentle, and content.

    The tranquil energy cycled around me for several minutes while I sat silently. I couldn''t use my aura as armor; the mana was too refined and wild to be anything other than a projection and a shield from ambient mana sources. I needed to coat my skin in mana like my aura. The thought was simple. The action¡­ not so much.

    I drenched myself repeatedly and almost died a couple times when I froze myself in a shell. It didn''t matter how I tried; I couldn''t get the water to coat my arms or the ice to remain flexible.

    Maybe the problem was internal?

    I focused on my mana within. It could be that all the rumors I heard about mana armor weren''t true. A secret to keep the power from the weak and the money in the hands of the rich. A brilliant scheme if true, but schemey to the core.

    It took a moment to lower the water mana temperature inside my channels. It was painful, and I had a nagging thought that I was following a foolish path. I pushed past the pain and doubt and slowed the mana inside me to a crawl. Slowly, the mana solidified.

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    I screamed in silent outrage as I was frozen within.

    Darkness parted, and I woke up standing in a puddle of water. My hand stretched out. Blue refreshing mana accumulated on my fingers. I waited for Cal to lecture me on wasted life and time. He remained absent. Freezing my insides was a foolish idea and terribly executed.

    Although... just to be sure, I tried the same thing but with a slight variation.

    I woke up standing in a puddle of water. My hand stretched out. Blue refreshing mana accumulated on my fingers.

    I was most certain now that freezing my insides was a bad idea, and I didn''t have it in me to attempt the armor-within technique again. A small oath was made to abandon inner-freezing. As a consolation, my short-lived lives earned me a moment of clarity. I needed to start smaller.

    Ice formed around my hand, covering it with a frosty, solid layer. Besides the lack of movement, my hand felt fine inside the shell. Lack of movement was the same problem I had when I coated my body in ice. I hoped that if I kept the area small, I could figure out how to make the armor movable.

    I stared at my frosty hands for hours, trying all manner of techniques. Coating the hand in water and then a layer of ice. Ice, water, then ice. I tried to keep my hand covered in water and slowed the particles down. My hand was nearly solid, and I could still move it and my fingers. I was elated until I stabbed an ice knife through it and skewered my hand.

    I paused for a moment of cursing and healing before attempting the frozen gauntlet technique again.

    At one point, it got real wild, and I tried the awkward ice-on-ice protection. As expected, my hand was stiffer, and I gained no extra movement buffs. I thought I had a moment of breakthrough when I started pumping mana into the ice glove. My hands began to move. I realized shortly after that I''d just managed to turn the glove back into water.

    As the sun settled and I basked in the moon''s soft light, I gave in to temptation''s enticing whispers, breaking a newly formed oath.

    I looked inward once more. This time, I focused all my attention on the mana within my hand. With delicate precision, I slowed the mana down. I could already tell my hand was more solid. I opened and closed my hand and wiggled my fingers, checking for dexterity. All was well. So far.

    My semi-frozen hand punched the. Only one hand hurt. In fact, there was minimal feeling in my cold hand. I was close, and the excitement of my achievement had me singing internal praises.

    I took a deep breath and proceeded to freeze the mana within. My hand was as solid as ice. An elated feeling of victory rushed through me, and a volley of frozen fists punched into the blanket of night.

    Tempering my excitement to further test my armor. I closed and opened my hand, wiggled fingers, and grabbed objects.

    "Yes," I shouted into the darkness, my frozen fist pumping in a solo victory dance once more. It was important to celebrate wins, big or small. This one felt big.

    I calmed myself down to a rational level of excitement. More tests needed to be executed.

    Sweat gathered at the palm of my hand, holding onto an ax. I couldn''t watch. I closed my eyes¡ªcommitting a heinous sin of the ax¡ªand held my frozen fist out. Sweaty palms or not, I had to know. I chopped the ax down hard and awkwardly. I felt no pain as the ax struck my hand and only heard the smack and felt the reverberations in my striking hand. It worked!

    I opened my eyes to witness my success, prepared to commence a new round of fist-pumping.

    My hand was gone.

    Nausea swelled inside. I blinked twice to confirm what I wasn''t seeing. I had a wrist but no hand. A handful of shattered pieces covered the ground. Instincts drove me to start picking them up. I stopped after I grabbed my cursing finger... The weight of my actions sunk in. I had committed the greatest ax sin of them all. My stomach churned. Bile lingered at the back of my mouth.

    I hated looking at my nub but also couldn''t look away. The mark of a fool was on complete display. I contemplated resetting then and there, but it was only just a hand¡ªa bastard left hand at that, which had stabbed the <i>no longer</i> righteous right hand not too long ago.

    I tucked my nub behind my back, allowing my eyes and thoughts some reprieve.

    One thing was certain. I was done freezing my insides... for now. Maybe I even needed a break from freezing in general. I definitely needed space. Seeing my ice chunks was doing bad things to my insides. Thankfully, my nub didn''t really hurt and was already healing over. I kind of felt like my hand was still there, and in a way, I like to think it would always be with me in spirit. I got up and walked away. I reached the forest before I fainted.

 19. The Ice Ranger

    I dreamed of isolation and loneliness. I saw a man outside my walls so eager to live and experience life and yet terrified to leave his shell''s safety. He longed for simpler times. Times less lonely and isolated. I couldn''t tell if he was crying. His face was solemn, and his eyes were distant. He knew he had a purpose; the success of his mission depended solely on him. And yet the man outside the walls of my shell placed a hand on my cage and looked at me with tender mercy.

    "Live," the man said and walked away. Though he was gone, a piece of him remained...

    I woke up in a cold sweat. The shade of the massive trees sheltered me from the intensity of the early sun. No, it wasn''t trees that were blocking the sun. Turbulent clouds were gathering overhead. This was by far my strangest life... and it was only the second day. What the hell was that dream?

    I cleared the wispy memory from my thoughts, and since I was already prone, I started the day stretching. My arms sprawled out wide, and my hands opened and closed, returning feeling to my fingers. After a few stretches, I brought my hand to wipe tiredness from my eyes. My hand¡ªmissed? Never had I failed such a menial task before. Gouge my eye in haste? Sure. But miss my face entirely? I looked down in disgust.

    That soggy bastard stole my hand!

    Foolish thoughts ruled my mind for only a moment before I regained clarity. I glimpsed at my nub in disgust and could only shake my head and laugh. I knew ice armor was an advanced skill. I didn''t realize it would be this difficult to learn. It made sense why so many cultivators didn''t risk learning skills on their own. It was a dangerous path to follow.

    I took note of the timing of the storm. This was probably when it would roll around without cultivating the mana or creating a greater disturbance, such as death. Based on the accumulated water, I predicted the storm wouldn''t be as intense as before.

    I also noted that the wolfbears had yet to arrive. It took them nearly three days when I stayed and cultivated and only a mid-day when I left for the spring to come. Were they that sensitive to my presence? If so, why did they appear at all the first time?

    The wolves and weather were minor mysteries for now. Not something I needed to investigate, although the timing was important to know if I ever planned to leave the ice block here. As it was now, that wasn''t a safe option. If I was going to any town, I needed to do something with my frozen body first. That was also a problem for another time. I wasn''t going anywhere in this life. I refused to put myself into a situation where I had to explain what happened to my hand.

    Mystery priority number one... what do I do with my nub?

    The obvious solution presented itself as soon as I brought up the question. Ax hand was the only answer. It was pure poetic irony. If bards were to witness this day, they''d write ballads of the fallen left hand. Felled from a cold blade, it rose from the frosty ashes like a phoenix burning for new life and purpose. To become the ultimate blade to which others will feel its frozen wrath.

    The plot was there. Now, all I needed was the ax. I rested my back against the tree and worked out the details of my new left hand for the next three hours. When the storm started, I summoned a dome, which I had to keep freezing.

    I raised my masterpiece to inspect it closer. My left hand resembled a war ax commonly found in the hands of highlander orcs. A shaft extended the ax head from the wrist, giving me extra reach. The ax head was double-sided with a log-curved blade on each side. I added a sharp tip at the top of the ax to boost my piercing.

    The difficulty of crafting the ax was not in crafting it but in connecting it to my arm. The solution was unpleasant, and I broke my promise I made a nap time ago for the second time. The vow was foolish, and I shouldn''t be held accountable to such high standards. If I wasn¡¯t freezing my insides was I even trying to be a water cultivator? Seemed like dowser fundamentals.

    At the end of the day, all that mattered was that the ax was awesome and firmly secured to my frozen forearm. The bards would sing, indeed.

    Rain continued to pour throughout the day. It turned to a light mist and only relented when the storm clouds parted. The weather remained overcast, and the ground was extra damp. I was far enough away from the battlefield that I didn''t have to watch the rain bloat corpses. Nor did I have to deal with the smell it was bound to release. That was until I realized I needed to refreeze my body.

    I cursed the mud as I trekked to my stake and again when I trekked back to the forest. It was good to be thorough when it came to curses. At least, that''s what was said in the witches'' creed.

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    As it turned out, an ax for a hand did little to deter my path of progression. I needed to improve my body essence which meant strengthening, conditioning, and endurance. Get strong. Get hurt. Survive.

    The wolfbears hadn''t shown up yet, which was irritating but not a big deal. Although killing was a surefire way to progress, body cultivation could be done with all sorts of physical training. I ran through all of my katas, implementing my new form in all of them. After finishing my katas, I sprinted, managing to cut myself only a few times. Then I started chopping trees.

    I knew the trees had no feeling, and everyone thought druids were weird for humanizing everything green. That didn''t stop any of the judgment I felt from the towering colossus.

    It also didn''t help that my map shop stood next to a brewer who insisted trees could taste nutrients, hear sounds, communicate, and send signals through their tissue network when they were being cut. Bettsy was eccentric even for witch standards. She also happened to be right most of the time.

    I had already felled three trees and was working on my fourth. Even though my arm was tired, my ax was in great shape. It took little mana to hone the edge and it only took me a few hundred swings to get used to a one-arm and hand swing. I only had to push past my mental block to realize the method was no different than any axing. My right hand held the shaft above the nub and added to the strength and precision of my cuts. However, regarding this fourth tree, ''cuts'' was a generous term. I barely broke the bark.

    The truth of the matter was I was too soft for this.

    Even if I chopped down every bloodwood, burned the stumps, salted the grounds, and drained the springs, it wouldn''t matter. Nothing I did mattered. I''d die, and life would all reset¡­ until it didn''t reset¡ªanother question to be answered later. The forest would be repaired, and no one would know of my deeds. Deeds that didn''t matter because trees didn''t care. They couldn''t; it wasn''t in their nature.

    Thud. The weight of my ax fell against the thick bark. Ao¡¯s bloody pits. Was my head always a mess?

    Stop being a ninny. Thud.

    This didn''t matter. The trees didn''t even care. Thud. Bettsy wouldn''t even care. Thud. She would be begging for the sap and encouraging me to cut more.

    Death was power. Thud. Save them. Live...

    I¡ªI needed a break. Where were the damn wolfbears?

    What was happening? Three loops deep, and already having an existential crisis... I was a disaster. Was it the suppression? Did I need to let all my memories out and have a cry? I was pretty sure I did that back in the box¡­ a few times on my pike as well. Deliverer be damned.

    "You''re a damn tree¡ª" this wasn''t my proudest moment, but I was nothing, if not committed. "¡ªand my hand is a damn ax. Of course, I''m going to chop you. There was only one way this path led."

    The tree stayed silent¡ªa fact I was incredibly grateful for. My mind, on the other hand, unraveled.

    "I know it''s none of your fault my hand is gone. That doesn''t change the fact that I have an ax for a hand, and you''re a tree."

    The tree maintained its vow of silence.

    "It isn''t justice. It''s destiny. Something I thought you''d understand."

    Thud. I should''ve never left that box.

    "Your death will be a great bounty to the forest. You''ll nourish the ground and bring new life."

    Thud. Sweat dripped into my eye. I used the wrong hand to wipe and left a deep gash on the side of my cheek that stung from the residue of sap that entered it. Finally, the tree was fighting back. That made it worse.

    "It''s got to matter, right?" Even if I was completely alone it still mattered what I did in the loops. I would still know and I had to live with myself.

    Thud. ¡°Why me, though?¡± I was content selling my maps. That was who I was. Not an adventurer. Not a hero. I was just the one that lived.

    "I''m nothing special."

    No answer.

    "The others had so much more to offer." They could''ve brought so much peace if they just had the chance to live." Moloki, Knox, Jule, and Samantha had lofty ambitions when they were done with the Marines. Even Kalani, who was beyond skilled with the sword, considered applying to become a Silver Cultist. I had no aspirations other than to stay close to my friends.

    The tree remained a tree.

    "It wasn''t fair." They were cut down in a pointless battle over the prized jewel of the Emperor. A damn armband bought with the blood of the people I loved. Their lives were spent like they were no more than a common resource.

    Thud.

    "I was there with them. I just wanted to stay with them. Why didn''t I get to stay? Why was I left behind?"

    Thud.

    "I still miss them. Is that what you want me to say? It still hurts. It always bloody damn hurts." Thud. "Now I''m alone again. Why? Lana, Flint, Sasha, and Rocky¡ªwhere are they? Why am I the only one left?¡±

    Thud.

    "Answer me." Thud. Thud. Thud. "Please, answer me." I roared in frustration.

    The tree cracked. The splitting noise reverberated from the surrounding trees, chanting a solemn song. I stepped away. The tree continued to crack, swaying slowly into my deep cuts. The chanting crescendoed as the cracks got louder and faster. The fibers could hold on no longer and finally snapped. There was no more chanting. The tree fell without a noise.

    It was a beautiful giant. Its only mistake was being a tree near an arm that happened to be an ax. Thud.

    I stood in silence a moment longer. I had nowhere I wanted to go. Everywhere reminded me of death. I thought of chopping another tree and decided that was a good idea. My feet remained planted. So I stood in hollow silence. Squids might be right. Time wasn''t on my side.

    A sinister laughter broke the reverent silence. Peace I didn''t deserve was ripped away. My ax hung low at my side, its blade sharpened fresh for a fight. My head hung lower. A sword summoned in my right hand. I didn''t bother silencing the laughter with an ice band. The hackles were nothing compared to the maddening emptiness inside me.

    Lana saw this hollowness in me once. She loved me anyway.

    I took a deep breath, my feet firmly planted. When the predators came to feast, I pretended to be the tree that wanted to live.

 20. The Hollow Path

    I was surrounded by death. Shade that once protected me from the harsh glare of the morning sun provided no cover. There were no trees in sight. I was the only thing standing. The little ground that could be seen around me pooled in thick blood. Everywhere else was a shredded mess.

    My body looked no better. I had no fabric of clothing left. I wanted to sit, but there was nowhere for me to rest. The sun continued to scorch the barren ground, and a perverse steam accumulated.

    The massacre had been wild. Beasts and trees fell without remorse. I was hollow and unfeeling. As weak and foolish as I felt trying to chop down trees, it was nowhere as weak as I felt now. I felt gross, not because I was covered in blood but because I didn''t care. The wolfbears kept coming, so I kept chopping. No purpose. No reason. They were there, and I had an ax.

    Part of me knew the path would be easier down this road. It wouldn''t be the stars I was reaching for; I would rule the heavens. It would be so easy, too. A hollow box had endless potential. It could continually consume, and it would never be enough. All I had to do was remain hollow.

    To say the temptation wasn''t there was a lie. The void pulled at my soul, begging me to let go. Whispering that it wouldn''t be forever. It was only temporary¡­ only for when it was needed. Of course, if I wanted it to stay longer, I could stay in its comforting confines. I didn''t even have to ask. I could just be. No judgment. No remorse.

    As I looked at the piles of dead beasts, I admitted that I desired the power to not care. If I didn''t care, then all of this truly meant nothing. If I didn''t care, I could be a god.

    I cared, though, and that was all that mattered. I cared about the people, the forests, the beasts, the living, and the dead. If I didn''t care, then what was the point of having the power of a god or being a god? I was disgusted with myself, and for that, I was grateful.

    It took me several hours to gather all the dead trees and beasts. I brought them to the graveyard of my friends and piled them high. Wood was processed for fire. The meat was consumed when I was hungry. I labored day and night to extract all of the cores. When the task was completed, I ground the cores into a powder which I boiled with my mana into a brew.

    Refining cores was a tedious process. I knew I was wasting time. There was plenty of ambient mana to cultivate, and I had an entire day of slaughter to analyze. I sat close to the fire and watched the water boil and reduce, leaving remnants of power behind¡ªremnants that lived not long ago.

    "This is a much better view," Cal said, his voice sounding as if he were sitting next to me, and I looked to my side for confirmation. "Their self-aggrandizing was beyond arrogant. At the end of the day, they were trees. Tall trees, but trees nonetheless."

    Now that the flayen was here, I didn''t want to talk. Instead, I grabbed my stick and stirred the pot.

    "I knew this natural beauty once." Cal mumbled the words at first." Her bark was golden, and the leaves she grew radiated mana beyond the comprehension of our scholars. One sip of dew that graced her skin would allow cultivators to break through realms. Though she was an aspen and had thousands of sisters, she chose to live alone, unattached, and unlinked to her family''s collective mind. She, alone, strove for the heavens. Not that she ever reached high, nor did she dig deep. Instead, she remained true to her idea of a tree. It was her identity, her very being, that reached up."

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    I threw another log onto the roaring fire, stepped away, and inspected my ice cauldron. After reinforcing the pot with mana, I added water and another pound of ground cores to the brew. The powder shimmered when it landed in the pot, and the boiling water pulled it into its frantic energy, mixing the array of light into a liquid.

    "Anointed Seed of Heaven was her name. I called her Ash. It didn''t take long for Ash to garnish the attention of my peers. She became a treasure of my world. A castle was built around her. Guards were stationed to watch over her. Scientists studied her. The powerful used her. Ash never objected to any of it. She was, after all, a tree.

    "I was her personal guard. I was stationed at her side every hour of the day. I read her books, sang songs, theorized, and philosophized to her. I spent the happiest years of my life by her side. One day, we engaged in a one-sided conversation, much like we are now, discussing the intricacies of the mind. I was deeply conflicted¡­ she spoke back to me."

    I placed the lumber I was chopping through back down and waited for Tents to continue.

    The cauldron melted from within rapidly, and the boiling water inside was a blink away from spilling out. I knew a frozen pot would work counter to my goal and would be weak to the intense heat. It wasn''t meant to endure the process. It only needed to provide enough structure for me to add another layer of ice onto it. This layering process widened my pot as more energy powder was added. It wasn''t my intention, but boiling water while freezing the pot was an intensive exercise for my mind and spirit.

    Tents remained silent.

    I could tell he was trying to relate to me. His words and emotions were there. The squid cared about the tree. I wonder if his hand held the ax when Ash was cut down.

    "You can call me Calypso, and I did not hold the ax, though, after years of reflection, I wish I had." Pain, torment, and regret flash through my mind. "You are right not to trust me, Kainoa; I have every intention of taking control of your body."

    My pot begins to crack. Water and mana leaked out. My eyes remained open, my hands unresponsive.

    It was one thing to suspect your mind was being attacked. It was another to know it. My arms wrapped around my body, adjusting to the awkwardness of my ax. The solution was to remove the ax, which I did, and then scooted closer to the fire.

    Water and fire had a peculiar relationship in that they didn''t want to exist with each other. Both fought to extinguish fire through evaporation and water through suffocation.

    I never had much use for fire. I could regulate my temperatures on my own, and as a ranger, I found its brightness at night to be a glaring weakness. We were enemies through and through, on the battlefield and off. It was impossible to cultivate in a firestorm. Yet, at the moment, fire was my only comfort. I had no clothing, shelter, or trees to hide underneath. All I had was a bickering flame, and I craved its warmth. I eased my body next to it for some sense of security. It wasn''t much, but I found an ember of strength.

    "My name is Kip, and you can''t have my body."

    "Kai¡ª"

    "My name is Kip." I raised my volume in thought and voice. "If you can''t respect that, we are done." The desperate hold onto anything they can grasp. My name was a sliver of resistance.

    "Very well, Kip. It is nice to meet you."

    "You can stop with the pleasantries. I don''t want you here, and you don''t want me to be here. Let''s not pretend we will be friends."

    "You are right to push me away." A tension near my temple relaxed like a sigh of relief. The tension had been ever-present. Now that it was gone, I noticed more that it was there.

    My only hand moved to the tension-free spot and rubbed in a circular motion, trying to ease any lingering pain.

    "In truth, I have been trying to deceive you this whole time. My first blunder was the mind projection. No, my first mistake was underestimating your resolve. After two hundred deaths, I thought you would be an easy host to control. Can we start over?"

    No more pain remains, yet my hand continues to massage my head. I had a sea of questions but only one answer. "No."

 21. A Fresh Start

    As much as people tried and wished for a restart, the fact of the matter was that restarts weren''t real. Actions, choices, and words all had lasting consequences.

    If a man called another man a bastard only to apologize when the bastard turned out to be a great man, the bastard profaner could never reclaim the bastard label he so bastardly dealt out. No apology and no do-over would change the fact that there were still two bastards.

    So no, I wasn''t going to accept a restart with Cal. It didn''t matter that we were coffin buddies on a first-name basis or that I felt terrible because he was friends with a tree, and I just massacred a forest, and it especially didn''t matter that I was stuck in a loop with what seemed like endless restarts.

    Cal was my possessor, and I was possessed. We weren''t starting over unless that meant he was exorcized from my mind.

    "What do you mean no?" Calypso asked.

    "I''m a bastard." Damn it. I only had one chance, and I missed the landing.

    "We''re bastards. Shit." He had to be messing with my mind. I thought I could sneak in another attempt.

    "You''re a bastard, and unless restart means you leave, then no, you get no do-overs." The execution was sloppy, but the message was delivered. Further boosting my confidence was the fact that I no longer palm-hugged my head and had resumed cultivating my frozen pot full of boiling water.

    "You do understand¡ª"

    "I know I''m in a recursion. It doesn''t make ''restarts'' any more real."

    "The amount of looping your mind goes through to jump to a conclusion is fascinating."

    "The caterpillar weaves many paths before he calls a cocoon home."

    "What is this caterpillar you refer to, and why is it essential to your world? I do not believe I encountered a single one. Is it like a dragon?"

    "More like a phoenix without the fire and dying, which makes it much more impressive."

    "And that is cause for your obsession?"

    "I''m not obsessed with them. I tend to avoid them. They''re bad for business."

    "You''re making this all up."

    I sorta was. That didn''t make it any less true, and I had a pile of ashes of chewed-on maps as evidence. Or I had. The evidence might''ve been destroyed, and blaming moths was probably more accurate than butterflies. Still, they were cousins, so they remained guilty by association. Besides, we were talking about caterpillars. What did anyone really know about those morphing grubs?

    "The caterpillar is the harbinger of tragedy," I said with a confident finality. "Their beauty preludes destruction."

    A wisp of understanding breezed through my thoughts. I could almost see the octopus nodding and getting lost in the memory of a beautiful tree where Cal sat and ate lunch under Ash''s shade. The memory was fleeting, and empty walls erased my image of Cal, leaving only his voice behind.

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    "You said there was no fire. Now I know you are making this up. I feel it in your pulses as well. They are getting extra sparky.

    "Well, how do you like it when someone messes with your mind? It''s beyond unsettling. And butterflies are beautiful; of course, they are bad for business."

    "So, are we even?"

    "Not even close. You need to get out of my head."

    "I cannot, nor do you want me to. As much as you long for the grave, you long for her more."

    "Get out."

    "We can work together. Our goals align for a while."

    "Get out."

    "If I leave, you will die. There will be no vengeance. The Deliverer is never held accountable. Your friends remain dead, forgotten with the worms, and then your world, Helm will be destroyed, and everyone here will die with it.

    "I don''t care about revenge, and I don''t care about the world."

    "Yet the destruction of a forest and spirit beasts has brought you to your knees."

    "Because it was by my hand."

    "And if you let the world be destroyed, is it not because of your hands?"

    "I''m not the one holding the ax, am I?"

    "Will that help you sleep any easier? You may not be holding the ax, but you did nothing to stop its fall."

    "And how am I supposed to do that when you, a mighty god, couldn''t stop the ax from falling."

    "We both know I''m no god."

    "Ae." There was another pause in the conversation. No veil is parted for me to get a glimpse of Cal, and I sense no emotion from him either. I wait for a comfortable thirty seconds before I start brewing.

    Without my guidance, the bonfire tripled in mass. Entire trees burned in seconds, barely satiating the fires'' hunger. The mana around us had become distorted with death and fire. Both were driven to consume, uncaring that the more they did, the faster they ended their pursuit.

    I couldn''t sense the ambiance of any other mana except for the kettle I cultivated and the night brooding in the distance. I assumed our conversation was just on pause. I don''t know what made Cal so skittish at times. That left me with my thoughts, which were still relatively empty.

    This wasn''t my favorite loop.

    Favorite or not, the fruit of my labor was on the edge of ripeness. Through the delicate culmination of time, mana, heat, and water, I''d transmuted the thousands of dull cores into a midnight-purple powder. I had enough powder for about four pills worth of epic rank. Their quality based on the darkness of the powder was nothing to brag about; most likely, it would be appraised at the inferior quality. Inferior as it was, I had a fortune. My pot held more value than I ever dreamed about.

    With my hand on my large pot, I manipulated the ice, removing extra material and sculpting the rest into a teacup.

    Cultivators argued over the best way to consume pills. Some said grinding them up and adding them into an elixir was the only true path; others swore that you had to swallow the pill without letting it touch your tongue in fear that you might taint the composition.

    A few cults preached that consumption destroyed cultivation and was a shortcut to damnation¡ªthese were few and far between and were mainly composed of brawny physical cultivators. Most of the powerful cults invested heavily in pills and elixirs. Power was the only path; all that mattered was how far one could go.

    I tended to favor the logic of Bettsy, "if you have a pill, swallow it; if you have tea, drink." We rarely had either, and on most occasions, we would sip on hot water and reminisce on the day and how much we disdained our customers.

    I missed Bettsy. Outside the loop, it had only been a couple of weeks since I last saw her, and I wondered how she managed both of our businesses. I will return home in one of these loops, I decided, if only to see her and let her burn down my shop, hers would burn down right after.

    In another life, I''d take her to my home island where she dreamed about living and help her settle down and begin a new adventure. She''d be uncomfortable with the idea at first. But she''d warm up to it in hours and then practically beg me to take her to the land of endless seas.

    It didn''t matter. Three words shattered my passing thoughts, bringing me back into the realm of realism. It was a hard pill to swallow, and I doubted I''d be able to.

    I swished water in a cup, mixing the powder into a potent elixir, and raised my glass to the witch who taught me everything I knew about brewing¡ªthe same witch that led Lana into my shop. In a smooth motion, I tilted my head back and drank the thick liquid in one hard swallow. My core ignited like the bonfire beside me.

 22. The Dance of Fire and Ice

    If Bettsy was here, she would''ve slapped me for breaking rule one of potion making, which was never be the one to test your own brew. Then she would''ve laughed for drinking an elixir so potent it was toxic. It wasn''t so much that cultivators shouldn''t drink potent elixirs as much as cultivators¡­ well, shouldn''t... My burning core being the very reason.

    Nubs and nails clawed at my chest. I broke my skin, causing blood to pour out. I washed the wound with icy water. The fire inside burned hotter.

    A passing thought of freezing my core flashed through my mind. I promised myself I wouldn''t. My bloody nub was a constant reminder of that ill-fated urge. The urge grew as the fire spread. If I could contain the flame, I wouldn''t hurt so much. I needed to cut off the source.

    I curled into a ball and rocked near the wildfire. The comfort I sought early betrayed me. The fire opened its famished maw and ripped into my flesh. I rolled away, kicking the flame. My foot connected with a burning log, dislodging it from the pit.

    The log rolled, leaving a trail of fire behind. The intense heat fueled by ambient mana devoured all in its path.

    As the wildfire grew, I continued to roll, trying to extinguish the flame burning inside and outside my body. Rolling didn''t work. I pushed my mana, igniting my channels and forcing water to form around me. Water and fire collided, fighting like the cruelest of enemies trying to inflict the most pain. My mana was winning the battle outside. Inside, the flame had spread everywhere, burning my entire being. It was only a matter of time before my mind melted as well.

    I could end this. I could put myself out of my misery and start over. There was no need to drag this torture out. What did I have to gain?

    The fire raged toward the man in the ice. I didn''t have to do anything. In a matter of moments, it would all come to an end.

    Live for them. In a frozen moment, I saw the eyes of the frozen man. This life was no game to him. Every chance he gave me, he paid for with his suffering. It was callous to think he didn''t care or couldn''t feel. It was selfish to forget our promise.

    Death may be my ultimate path, but I won''t embrace it willingly.

    I force more mana outside my body, drowning myself in an orb of water. Another layer of mana coats my skin. My orb steamed and bubbled as fire desperately fought to consume me. The fire no longer had fuel, yet it remained burning and boiling. Mana was a miracle until it became a force to recon with; at that point, it became a disaster.

    I closed my fist, freezing the exterior of my shell. The fire simmered and bit back. I added more mana and another layer of ice. The flame sputtered and died. The moment of relief shattered when I inspected the damage. I closed my eyes and vowed to never look again. Luckily, the war within had destroyed any gag reflexes.

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    Although one battle had been won, I was losing two others. Even with my eyes closed, I sensed the fire racing toward my old self. I needed to stop it, but I was trapped and completely surrounded by the consuming flame and was dying within. Toxic mana pumped into my core, cycling into my channels and bleeding into my veins, organs, and tissues. Every second, it inched closer to my mind. How it hadn''t burned through already remained a mystery.

    Despite my dire circumstances, I lied on my back in my bubble, watching the world around me burn.

    A vortex of energy manifested at the heart of the mana fire. It spun in rapid circles, growing brighter with each turn. When it reached the sun''s brightness, the vortex pulled in dead wolfbears, dirt, spent wood, and anything else in its reach.

    My ice shield got caught in the pull, and I had to slam spikes through it into the ground to remain. My old body was not as fortunate. The extra-thick dome of ice had completely melted. I tried to sit up, but my flesh felt like liquid, and instead, I cursed in agony.

    <i>	</i><i>What are you doing? Do not let the mana enter your mind. Push it out.</i>

    <i>	</i>Not helping.

    <i>	</i><i>It burns.</i>

    My head rang and pulsed in violent flashes. Potent mana was breaking through my barrier and trickling into my head. My vision blackened.

    By the Pale Moon, please make it stop, Cal screamed into my mind, pushing the darkness at bay. Our connection¡­ the recurs¡ª

    We were both screaming. I needed to stop the pain. I pulled on my mana, attempting to empty my tank all at once. It was like pulling on the ocean. I pushed outward, but my channels had clogged. I wasn''t going to die fast enough. Cal was worried, and that made me nervous.

    I focused on the center of my core and commanded the mana within to freeze. My core froze from my first layer to my fourth, the mana within turning to ice. The freezing spread into my channel, cutting off the flow of mana. I released my breath and noticed my lungs weren''t on fire.

    I didn''t deserve a peaceful death. At least not this life. I took one last breath as the rest of my channels froze. Coldness covered me.

    I woke up a second later covered in a layer of ice, not the same ice that was my dome¡­ it was the same ice, but this one was connected to me.

    I created ice armor!

    I inspected my body, which was no longer melted and oozing. Sure enough, I was as solid as ice. Hell yeah! And what the hell? I''m pretty sure I froze my core before. No, I froze my mana, which was different. This was the secret technique of water cultivators? The damn frauds.

    I burst out of my shell as a frozen butterfly, slick, icy, and cold. My frozen skin repelled the fire, and the ice in my channels gave me a constant supply of energy. No, I was wearing my mana as a coat of protection. I didn''t have to push mana from my channels to wield it; I only had to think, and the mana formed.

    I sprinted through smoke and flame, resisting the powerful storm pulling me into the center. I wasn''t going to make it in time.

    My old body''s shell melted. The body was exposed and vulnerable to the fire biting at the stake. The man didn''t move despite the intense heat. He held his focus and survived. I''m only a hundred feet away. The fire snapped the spike and searched the ground for its next meal. My life preserver was inches away from the flame.

    I threw everything I had at the fire, ice balls, spikes. The flame hissed and recoiled and launched another attack. I attempted to throw a barrier and settled for kicking a wall. The wall did little to stop the predator that continued to claw forward. It did, however, crash into my life battery, pushing the lifeless body away. The seconds bought was all I needed. I arrived a heartbeat later, scooped up my body, and fled to safety.

    We survived the second battle, but the war was far from over.

 23. Of Monster and Man

    Bloody orange flames haunted the night sky. Acrid smoke suffocated the air and blocked out any signs of the moon. The slumbering bloodwoods, once majestic and stoic, became torches. Their massive bodies crackled as fire consumed them with a mesmerizing and terrifying ferocity. Embers swirled around me like angry moths, landing on the ground and igniting smaller fires that quickly spread.

    The fallen trees groaned and cracked as if they were crying out. Fire sang with the wind, pushing, pulling, and pulsing. The beat was fast and hungry, and the haunting sounds of laughter joined the choir.

    I stood alone in the sea of fire. It didn''t take long in my retreat to realize there was no safety, or more precisely, I was the safest place to be. I refroze my life preserver and kept him close as I battled flame with ice. No matter how hard we struck at one another, neither of us could find an advantage. I created ice walls only for them to be melted. Ice spears extinguished rogue flames only for a new flame to take its place. Tornadoes appeared, and I severed them with my sword. Amidst the inferno, firewalkers manifested.

    The demons of flame stood at my height with vague bodily features. They loomed around in the flame, circling my position.

    I made sure to cut down every single one of the demons that got close, pelting them with a volley of ice spears. It took ten spears to down one fire fury, and there were dozens of them. I drove past the pain burning within; I was at a dangerous level of mana exhaustion. After the fight I could think of safety. Until then, I had to put down the monster¡ªa monster I created. I kept my brick of ice behind me as I battled and continued to restore its protective barrier.

    My ice armor proved to be ever-resilient against the flames. Even fighting amidst the fire, I didn''t fear burning. There was no way I was surviving otherwise.

    Flames ceased spreading, and tendrils of the orange mana collected pieces of its body. I threw all of my power into the heart to no avail. The ice melted before it ever got near. As I waded into the deep orange sea with my frozen body in tow, I broke through another barrier of my ice armor. I could manipulate water once more. I drenched the grounds, stepping closer and closer.

    The heart was within sight. It was smaller than a common core and as bright as the sun. It pulsed with life and energy, each wave spreading its desire for more. Flames rushed into the heart, temporarily satiating the lust. When the hunger for power came, there was never enough.

    The burning ember noticed my presence.

    It was an odd sensation to be seen by something that wasn''t sentient or even had eyes. I didn''t know if what I felt was real or part of a terrible illusion. At the same moment, I could hear the faintest whisper calling for me, beckoning me to join it¡ªto become one. To unite.

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    I took a step forward, but a painful bite to my leg stopped my next step. I pulled back and saw the armor had melted. I took another step back, and my protection reformed. I was disappointed to learn I wasn''t invulnerable in my armor; however, it was good to know the limitations of my skill. Hearty fires were a no-go. I took another step back.

    The whisper got louder. Come, it prodded.

    I threw water instead. It evaporated ten feet away. The fire hissed and repelled and then surged forward. I repeated my assault, straining my will. Massive fists of water formed around my hand and nub. I hammered back the surging fire with jabs, crosses, and hooks. My relentless assault cleared the way for me to step toward the center. I pushed forward, draining my well at an incredible speed.

    The heart called for me louder. Unlike the flame, it didn''t back away from my water. It accepted the rebuttal and lurched forward.

    Five more feet.

    My armor dripped. Steam wisped off my body, evaporating entirely as soon as it left. With gritted teeth, I poured the remainder of my mana into a spear and rammed it into the fire''s heart.

    Yes.

    I was beginning to melt. I pulled my spear back and stabbed the heart again and again. I was shouting. The fire laughed.

    Flames rushed around me, pooling into the heart. I mustered the last of my strength and once more stabbed, screaming at the top of my lungs. I ran my spear deep into the core.

    The heart pulsed once inward.

    Time froze.

    Energy exploded.

    Violent and unstable orange mana washed over me. As I was tossed several yards away, a chilling sob rang in my ears, and my armor was destroyed. I smacked the ground with a heavy thud, followed by painful cracks and another scream of anguish. My limp body rolled several feet, then slid to a stop.

    The scratching of the scorched ground on my raw skin was as terrible as the broken bones. I struggled to breathe. There was no mana in my core to call upon. I couldn''t turn my head. I couldn''t move at all.

    I opened my eyes and witnessed the black earth around me. First, charcoal, scorched soil, and a hideous smoke caught my attention. Then, it was the white snow that fell all around me. In a matter of seconds, a layer of ash blanketed the ground.

    Smoke and ash entered my airways. I tried to avoid the cough building, placing all my wishes on a better outcome. My wishes were in vain. I coughed several times. Tears struggled to streak down my face as the soot absorbed the moisture, becoming a paste. I waited sixty heartbeats before I opened my eyes again. I might be a disaster, but I won.

    Get strong, get hurt, and survive. Body cultivation may be simple. Simplicity didn''t make the process any less of a bastard.

    As the tears cleared from my eyes, my vision became less blurry. I couldn''t see or sense any fire around me. I let out a sigh of relief and relaxed.

    Come.

    My heart pulsed. I scanned all around me, my eyes darting back and forth, searching as far as their limited vantage allowed them. I couldn''t see past the log, but there was no glowing orange background. Was the voice in my head? I pushed out my senses once again and found no trace of mana outside of my body. The land was barren.

    I will come to you.

    Never before had I moved my eyes so rapidly. They darted back and forth. There was no fire. Only ash and soot could be seen.

    Wait for me.

    I ran... at least mentally. I needed to get out of here. I tried to squirm away. My body didn''t respond. In my pathetic struggle to escape, my head regained a sliver of movement. I nudged it to the left, trying to pull myself away from the spark.

    I need you. The voice was chirpy, desperate, and hungry. I will give you power. Together, we will burn the world. A cold-insidious chill ran down my back.

 24. Lessons on Purity

    I couldn''t run away fast enough. I head-crawled away harder. Nope. No way could a flame of power be good for me. The race was intense. I gained inches per minute. I couldn''t see the hungry spark but knew it was out there. The absence of water mana should''ve been the first giveaway. I looked through squinted eyes, trying to gauge the distance between us. I still couldn''t see the ember.

    Yes, come to me. We belong together. Our passion and fury will devour stars. Your soul and mine belong.

    My head dropped. I was crawling toward the mana spark. My face paled in terror. I rolled my eyes back, trying to see over my head. Sweat accumulated on my brow and palm. I thought I burned through all of my liquids.

    My love, wait for me. I will come to you.

    My instincts bolted, urging me to flee as far as I could. I was a fish with no fins; worse than that, the earth didn''t let me sink away into obscurity. I was a damned, legless crab with one claw. I tried to force a swallow to temper my dry mouth and stirred up another coughing fit. When I no longer winced from pain, I got a good look at the fiery spark.

    Sparky, formerly known as the heart of the wildfire, was a blue flame that hovered inches above the ground. It had no human features or anything that signified it could talk or think. It was just a blue floating thick flame¡ªalmost like an inverted drop of water. In fact, it gave the impression that if I reached out and touched it, I''d feel corporeal resistance. I wasn''t going to test that theory. My head reached back, trying to create distance. Proximity proved to increase my aversion.

    You waited for me! My heart is brimming. The flame flickered. It moved inches away, the sweat on my brow evaporated, and the paste below my eyes dried and cracked. Open up. I''d never closed my mouth so hard. My teeth nearly cracked from my clenched jaw. For good measure, I closed my eyes.

    Sparky rested against my brow. My heart pounded, begging me to leave, sending all the wrong impressions to the love-deficient flame.

    My well of mana had dried up. I no longer had the power to end this loop, and somehow, my life anchor remained alive. A new panic burned in my head. What if Sparky finds my old body. The thought simmers before it can grow. Surely, it can''t be worse than this.

    The heat pressing against my forehead relented.

    I wanted to open my eyes but was too afraid of Sparks touching them. Heat was no longer present. I should be relieved. However, Sparky''s absence terrified me. I gambled, opening one eye and using all my expert years as a ranger, guide, and map maker to survey the ground.

    Sparks hovered ten feet away; its blue flame reached upward as if it were reaching toward something.

    A meteor of fire shot down from the sky. I heard the whistling before I sensed an overwhelming source of heat. It wasn''t as overwhelming as the forest fire, but it was still potent and dangerous. The blazing aura around the meteor grew in size as it got nearer.

    The fireball crashed into the ground twenty feet away from Sparky. Dirt, ash, and debris exploded outward. As smoldering heat and debris washed over me, I clenched my eyes for protection. A log stabbed me in the side. I couldn''t open my mouth to complain because dirt and ash pelted my face.

    When the dust settled, I cracked my eyes open. A pair of olive hands cupped Sparky. I couldn''t see the face behind the thick white hair, but I could see long, sharp ears sticking out. Warmth radiated from the crouched elf. The well of power I felt in the cultivator''s aura starkly contrasted with the small figure possessing it.

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    Whether the fire cultivator noticed me or not, they showed no signs of caring, and for that, I was grateful. I knew I was leagues away from their level. Mustering the courage of a possum, I kept my body on the ground, my breathing low, and avoided directly staring at the powerful cultivator.

    A secret conversation was happening between the cultivator and Sparky. I heard faint murmurings and laughter, with the occasional word carrying further than the elf intended. "Power... Please join."

    "Partners?

    "Raise... Glory."

    To be honest, I was afraid I heard too much.

    The elf held Sparky in one hand as she stood. She brushed her hair away from her face and smiled, flashing her perfect white teeth. She brought Sparky to her chest with one hand, holding the ember tightly to her bosom. With her other hand, she smoothed out her loose-fitting robe. The elf''s large almond eyes, nestled under white, bushy brows, looked up for the first time since arriving.

    I felt the weight of her gaze before averting my eyes. The once comfortable warmth projecting from her aura turned infernal.

    "Booo." I was at a loss for words, mainly because my throat ached, and it hurt to speak due to a log in my lower diaphragm¡ªand, well... I was intimidated. Booing was the worst thing I could''ve done, but at this point, I was done with fire.

    "You dare tarnish my air with your foul tongue? Your presence is a stain that I will not permit to exist. Fear not, lowly grass, I will purify you with my radiance.

    "Booo."

    Purity, named, not so much after a life commitment but more so after her purifying threat, stepped closer. The step that was more of a stomp caused the top of her robe to dislodge, revealing a silver tattoo of a jester''s crown. "Insolent cur!" Her eyes sharpened, and the ground beneath me ignited. Purity smiled wide. She took a deep breath, releasing it in an exaggerated sigh, and nuzzled Sparky.

    Sparky nuzzled her back. Betrayal burned bright.

    I gagged on my putrid scent and counted down the agonizing seconds til reset. This was a terrible loop.

    Earth rumbled and groaned. The ground quaked as rumbles grew to a grinding roar. Purity stumbled, almost tripping. Heat burst from her palm, stabilizing her. A pit opened under her, rocks forming teeth to the wide mouth. The mouth snapped upwards like a beast. Purity took to the sky to dodge; her foot was inches from getting caught in the bite.

    Fiery eyes scanned the terrain. I watched Purity trying to catch a clue of what was happening. Fortunately, my personal hell was banished when my body got buried beneath the earth. Unfortunately, I was neck-deep in dirt and had no choice but to watch Purity rain down fire.

    My head bobbed and weaved, dancing around the meteors of fire. In all my life I couldn''t recall feeling as powerless as I did in this moment. Dying on a stake several times was a close second.

    However, it could be argued that staking was an extraordinary circumstance. It''s not often that the world is invaded by octopi, and a reckless emperor decides that all present must die. Sure, the two cultivators fighting were powerful. Still, I couldn''t help feeling responsible for the exact position I was in, and it all started because I had a damn ax for a hand.

    Meteors slammed into golems of black dirt and rock. The thick monster received the burning attacks in stride and hurled boulders they formed from the earth at the flying fire cultivator. Stone lances aiming for Purity''s back melted in her aura. She flew high, dodging the barreling stones. As she swooped, a wave of fire washed into the five earth monsters, pushing four of them back and knocking down the fifth.

    Before the fifth could upright itself, a massive meteor crashed into the stone body. The explosion blasted the earth-walker into energy and debris.

    Ao''s bloody pits. A rock jammed into my eye. All the heavens be damned. In my mind, my distant, crumbled left hand was shaking in dissatisfaction.

    Purity swooped for another fire tide attack. Another mouth hole snapped at her, causing her to bank to her left. A stone hand anticipated her dodge and slapped her from the air.

    The elf crashed into the ground, fire radiating from her skin, leaving flames behind as her body rolled for several yards. Golems raced to the downed elf. Earth piled on the elf, only to melt away. Another hole opened. Smoke filled the pit, slowing the mouth from shutting. Fire, air, and smoke compacted as the hole closed. Purity was nearly swallowed. At the last moment, the hole exploded, and she flew away.

    "Booo," I called after the fleeing elf, knowing full well those would be my last words now that she was gone.

    All things considered, everything had turned to shit, and being crushed by earth was just as bad as death by fire. Selene''s sweet abyss. The end was near.

 25. Lessons on Dirt

    Lingering smoke engulfed my head. I blew as hard as I could to dissuade the cloud from coming my way. It would have been an easy feat if I had been a puffer. Everyone agreed air cultivators blew as much hot air as smokers, if not more. As silly as the power of the wind was, I wish I had that power right about now. My eyelids pushed down hard, trying to keep a tight cover on my eyes.

    It wasn''t enough. Smoke still got through. In a cruel twist of fate, my puffing attempts backfired, turning into huffing. Tears washed the crusty grime from my face as I coughed awkwardly.

    I was a head sticking above ground, probably hairless, including the brows, and I had dirt in my teeth. It was as if the gods condemned me for belittling a practitioner of the arts¡­ or burning down a forest¡­ or perhaps someone was fond of the laughing wolfbears.

    "Oy."

    I heard a voice from behind. My remaining good eye rolled to look for the earth cultivator. Peripheral was doing me no favors, so I waited side-eyed until the stoner stood where I could see.

    "Ya still alive over there? Yer friends in rough shape. Nearly put ¡®em down as courtesy."

    Friend, what¡­ "Noo." That was all I could manage to say.

    "Selene''s braided pits. Ur worse than yer friend. Want me to kill ya, too? Though... mind sharing what paste ur using to get such a shiny complexion before I off ya."

    I strained my eye further to the left to see the grounder.

    "Right, me bad, lad. I just have this policy: never stand directly in front of puffers. I know, I know, it''s prejudice. I just can''t trust them. They''re as bad as the creepers." A massive stone hammer dropped, missing my head by inches and filling up my periphery¡ªclassic stoner move. "How ''bout this. You don''t blow smoke, and I won''t use this.

    "Y... Y-h¡­¡± I gave up on words and nodded my compliance. It was a short nod, but compliant still the same. The earth cultivator agreed.

    "Good, the name''s Tom. What''s yers?"

    "<i>Nop</i>." I try to mumble something coherent.

    "Aye, that''s not islander."

    "Nop."

    "Part blood, too," Tom said as if that explained much. In fairness to Tom, it did. Highlanders, like islanders, were orcs. Typically, highlanders lived on the central mountains of Mauna, most never leaving the capital city, Domhain, in their life. Highlanders were known for their incredible earth-cultivating techniques and often won tournaments worldwide. Because of their xenophobic nature, most practitioners believe their powerful earth cultivation is in their blood. Others think it is their worship of their Shogar.

    Unlike islanders who''d shorn their tusks in defiance of the Shogar, highlanders remained loyal in their worship to the high mage and faithfully tithed their mana.

    Like typical highlanders, Tom had copper skin, a thick muscular build, long braided hair, a clean beard, and spoke in the common lazy tongue of all orcs.

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    What set Tom apart was his lack of tusks¡ªwhich could be a result of his mixed blood, rebellion, or both¡ªand the massive wooden pauldron he wore on his shoulder. The fancy shoulder guards contrasted his garb attire of loose pants and shirt, no shoes, and a round hat.

    Tom was at least a sage based on the size of his pauldrons and mana emitted from his aura.

    The highlander grins. "Aye." He raised a hand, pulling my body entombed in dirt out of the ground. Rocks and loose dirt fall from my coffin, but my tomb remains intact. "Let''s get ya fixed ''fore smokes returns."

    The smoker? Why would Purity return? Oh. In the corner of my good eye, the shimmer of Sparky could be seen covering Tom''s hand.

    Both of my bodies are lifted in the air. Then Tom opened a hole in the ground, jumped in, and pulled my two nearly dead bodies with him. Darkness filled my vision and crept into my mind.

    I woke up free-floating in a pond that stretched thirty yards in width and double that in length. I could see through the twelve feet of clear water to the rocky bottom that gradually sloped to the shore. A light breeze carried the heavy, damp air around.

    Goosebumps rose, covering my mangled body. I didn''t like them¡ªbumpy, weird, and weak, I shivered. What was this cold feeling? I don''t remember the last time I felt cold. The sensation was as odd as the goosebumps.

    I ran a quick check through my body, stretching my hands, fingers, legs, and stomach. Despite the incredible pain, my body was functioning, albeit less enthusiastic to obey. I eased my arms out, feeling the soreness through the entire motion, and paddled.

    I spun in circles, though I didn''t know why.

    I thought I died. Waking up in a cave and floating in a pool instead of standing in a puddle messed with my reality. I couldn''t remember how I got here and why my body felt like it was leaking through the stomach. Also, one of my eyes wasn''t working. My depth perception was off, and it was giving me a headache.

    The mysteries of life were beyond me.

    I continued to float in circles in a pond, in a cave full of life and bright as day. Fog clouded my mind, my body ached, and my soul¡­ was empty?

    That couldn''t be right. I had made tremendous progress filling up my fourth layer. After another round of cultivation, it would''ve been half full. Empty made no sense.

    I reached to scratch my head. My hand missed, and I ended up punching myself with my wrist. I looked at my hand closer. It was missing. I panicked. I lost my hand... Did I drop it? I searched the bottom of the pond. The frantic motion tore a patch covering my stomach open, turning the clear water red. I had to get out of the water. Why was I swimming to begin with? You don''t swim with an open wound. That was ocean-dwelling basics. The murky water terrified me. I didn''t know what lingered below, but it probably stole my hand and desired more.

    With my one good hand, I scooped and pulled water, trying to swim toward safety. I crawled onto the shore. My lungs demanded strong breaths. I managed short, choppy ones. It wasn''t enough. Lightness filled my head. I reached to massage it and was reminded of my missing hand. Did I lose another one?

    Blood rushed to my head. My head rushed to the ground.

    I woke up lying next to a puddle of water. One arm stretched out, and the other was covered and tied to my chest. A bandage covered an eye, and a patch of mud covered my stomach. Rocks underneath me jammed into my back. My body ached, but it was bearable. I was so lost. I thought I died. I should''ve woken up in that graveyard, standing in a puddle, not lying next to one. I didn''t bother to question it. I closed my eye and fell back asleep.

    "Good, ur wake¡­"

    I could hear distant talking. Even though my mind was active, I hadn''t opened my eyes. The calm voice sounded so familiar. Pa?

    I couldn''t remember the last time I heard him or Ma talk. I thought they were dead. I missed them so much. Tears fell unbridled. It felt so good to listen to Pa''s voice again. My open tears would bring shame. I didn''t care, neither would they.

    "Easy, son. Yer mana''s replenishing. Breathe and sleep." The tender voice eased my back to sleep.

    I woke up standing in a puddle of water. My hand stretched out. Blue refreshing mana accumulated on my fingers. Tenty laid on the ground next to my impaled body. His body and face sprawled from when he died.

    Tears streamed down my face.

 26. Faded Memories

    I stood in my puddle for an interminable amount of time. At one point, the sun got tired of my idleness and slipped away. I don''t recall the moon joining my vigil. It skipped, or the sun realized it had nothing better to do and returned shortly after leaving.

    My head was in a fog, my heart hurt, though I didn''t know why, and I longed for home¡ªa feeling I couldn''t remember having since I left.

    Home was a silly place of kind and cruel memories. There were times of happiness with my parents as we foraged and hunted in the forest. Times of pain when the news of my sister''s death got back to us, and my parents rebelled against the ruling family. We became outcasts and were ostracized from the community. My parents had no resources when I was old enough to begin cultivation. They sold their lives just to get by.

    I wasn''t allowed to attend youth academies or participate in training sessions. Most kids avoided interacting because they feared the shame of cowards rubbing off.

    My parents weren''t cowards; they saw a flaw in the system and suffered for exposing it. I broke their hearts when I joined the Alderi regulars. All youth of Kukoa were expected to serve. As an outcast, there was no expectation for me; I was free from the chains. My parent''s lack of freedom led me to the registration. I almost wasn''t accepted, which would have been our island''s first and bright shame. The only friend I had used his dad''s influence to get me through.

    All my money was sent back to my parents until the day. Every credit and core saved was building us a better future. I didn''t know how they died. All I knew was the world grew empty without them. I drifted at sea with no purpose and no shore to call home.

    By the time my service with the empire came to an end, the death of my parents became a faded wound. Signing up for the marines was an easy choice. I had nowhere else to go or any plans on what to do. I lacked the skills to make it as a crafter and wasn''t bold enough to be an adventurer. The only thing I was sure of, I wasn''t going back to Kukoa.

    Sure, the Kukoa had its beauties. Crystal-clear turquoise water surrounded the island, with soft-white sandy beaches stretching along the coastline. The few moments when I wasn''t struggling to survive or gain an edge in cultivation, I spent rolling in the waves and diving into the calming depths. The ocean never cared that my family were outcasts.

    Even the central mountain range, where I spent most of my time, had a majestic allure. A dense tropical rainforest dressed the mountains, covering the hills in giant ferns and ancient trees that bloomed bright flowers. Cascading down the mountains were countless waterfalls. The rivers sparkled with an ethereal glow, emanating tranquility.

    Life flourished in the mountain rainforests. When my parents or I were desperate enough to sneak the royal families'' ''claimed'' wealth, we got to experience a life of sweet fruit, rich meats, and hearty roots. The feasts never lasted long enough, and the consequences of illegal hunting were always dire. It didn''t take much to see past the beautiful mask of Kukoa and uncover the rot of greed and power festering underneath. I could no longer look upon the island''s beauty without seeing the facade.

    So maybe it wasn''t home I longed for but family. What I wouldn''t give to have one last meal with them¡ªto hear the wild stories of my parents'' youth and listen to my sister''s dreams for her future. Laughter would fill our hut as we filled our bellies with roasted pork and sweet drink.

    I wiped my eyes and cleared my throat. The hollow man inside beckoned me to accept him; another begged me to surrender to the grief. One clung to hope, while another remained paralyzed with indecision.

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    This was an odd loop, and I didn''t know why past memories haunted me so much. Heaviness clung to my thoughts; it slowed my breathing and stilted my desire. It would be helpful if I could recall anything out of the ordinary from the last loop. I remember fighting the last of the wolfbears and dying right at the end. My gut churned. Something was off.

    A light mist fell from the sky. I couldn''t recall if the storm was early or late. It couldn''t even be called a storm.

    "Tents?"

    Drops splashed on my shoulders, creating a tiny pool before trickling down my arm.

    "Cal, you there?" By the pale moon. I probably shouldn''t be alone right now.

    A breeze stirred up the little dust not damp enough to be left alone. The breeze pushed against me; it was so faint that I shouldn''t have been moved.

    "Hey, I could use some help about now," I said louder against the wind. "Even a put-down would be nice¡­"

    The flayen had been absent lately since a loop or two ago. Usually, I could sense Squid''s presence in the back of my mind like a persisting thought that hadn''t come to fruition. At the moment, the flayen had no presence. For the first time in my years of loneliness, I felt alone. Truly alone.

    I blamed this strange loop on the low starting point¡­ and Lana. She wasn''t innocent.

    Before she arrived, I had never suffered from this feeling. Lana unintentionally showed me my emptiness, and chasms in my soul became nothing more than cracks in time. A large part of my fulfillment had been ripped away with her demise. I could settle into my shop and sell the worst maps ever created. It would be so easy. The hurt I felt now would fade with time, bandaged by gaping numbness.

    Realistically speaking, I had no chance of bringing Lana or anyone back. Squids mentioned that with enough power, I might be able to, but that didn''t make sense. What was I going to do? Move back time? Not even the fabled gods, with all their holy power, could do that. For all I knew, Squids could be blowing hot smoke.

    Yet, here I was, looking at my frozen body. Hope dangled before me.

    My dreams and reality were at odds. In my heart, I knew there was no possibility I could save us all¡ªthat I could save them, yet I held on to the sliver of hope. I defied reality by putting everything into delirious hope. After all, if there was any chance at all, why not take it? Hope drove me toward her.

    Hope wouldn''t allow me to let her go, and as long as I held on, I couldn''t be whole. My cracks would continue to spread. However, if I let go, I''d be swallowed by my depths¡ªlost again in a sea with no shore in sight.

    Hope was a blessing and a curse. I needed all of it because I was not letting go¡ªnot this time.

    Drifting through the storm of my thoughts, a hollow laughter mocked my weakness. It was soft at first; I could barely hear it. It grew as if encouraged by my shame. The laughter escaped the bounds of my mind, manifesting in a wild pack of riotous howling.

    The smell of blood and wet fur broke me from my trance.

    It must''ve been the entire pack of wolfbears that came to feast. I knew their numbers were large; I''d yet to see them all show up like this. Usually, they attacked in waves. This was a full-scale assault. Despite the odds, I felt calm. The cruelty of the fates led the wolfbears to me at this hour and in this state. It was not fair, and for that, I felt sorry.

    A chorus made the rounds through the taverns on the Agoria continent about my peoples'' tendency to get lost in the fog of battle. <i>Be wary of brutes. Paths of hollowness paved, graves covered in gray. </i>Of course, the words sounded much better coming from a bard. However, it lost its potency on tender lips.

    I summoned two claymores and raised them to the ready. The once heavy blades were light in my hand, no longer feeling awkward. I struck the air, working through the first three forms of the sword kata to get used to the new feeling, and returned them to the guard position. The wolfbears were nearly upon me; the stench of their fur fueled the fire that burned within.

    A guttural instinct urged me to temper the flame. I focused all my will on my core and commanded it to freeze. My soul turned to ice, spreading from my inner layers into my channels. As the frost spread, ice covered me in thick, light-blue armor.

    I had cast ice armor but had no time to celebrate. The first victim of an unfair fate bit at my feet. I spilled its blood as death''s gray mana covered its shallow grave.

 27. Graves Covered in Gray

    Just as the first beast died, another latched onto my leg. Its powerful jaw couldn''t scratch my armor. I impaled the beast with my sword. I turned to my right, facing the next growler; my sword cleaved the body in half and carried through to the next wolf.

    A charging beast knocked me in my back, causing me to slide across the ground. I used the momentum to slay three more charging beasts. At the end of my slide, I set a new anchor, pulling myself away from the back basher, and severed its head. Another charger challenged my flank. My left claymore turned into a spear that I  rammed into the beast''s belly. I left the spear in the beast and used my claymore with two hands.

    My dance became a fluid slaughter. Beasts charged, and I cut, spinning, dodging, and dicing. Blood steamed, turning the air foul.

    I repositioned to avoid the growing mound of death and to protect my frozen body; a dome covered my corpse, but I didn''t want a repeat of the last life. I was going to survive.

    Beasts swarmed my position, creating a circle around me. Dozens charged at a time, which I fought and slayed. While I killed the near threats, the surrounding wolfbears closed the circle. As more charged, the circle grew smaller.

    The wolfbears grew bolder by the bloodbath. The dead no longer piled up. They were quickly pulled out of the makeshift arena. I took multiple hits and bites to the body, none of which broke through my protection. My mana took a dip. I wasn''t worried. I''d cultivated enough while reflecting on a forgotten time that I could let the wolfbears chew on my frozen body for several hours. They were not strong enough to break my defenses. Still, I didn''t want to be a chew toy for the masses.

    I took a break from the slaughter and raised four curved ice walls. The four walls formed a circle, creating an arena of about twenty square feet. Between the walls, I left a gap of five feet, wide enough for the beefiest beast to get through and small enough that it was never more than one at a time. The last summoned wall of the four incorporated my ice dome so that I could keep my corpse safe. The ground froze, and fog filled the small space.

    A steady stream of beasts entered only to die. I had to make adjustments to my walls so that I could kick out the frozen chunks of flesh. The predators caught on to the game and waited by the smaller opening for a more leisurely meal. Not all could partake in the chilled beef buffet and took their chances with meals on ice. They shouldn''t have entered my space. I was a phantom in my mist. I had complete control of my movement and enough strength to quickly kill any challenger.

    Slaughter became a three-step process: cut, kill, kick. I killed over a thousand in my arena, and not once did my breathing feel labored or my muscles tired. My claymore was still light and fast in my hands, its edge sharpened by endless refinement.

    In this killing field, my movement with anchors became second nature. I didn''t have to focus so hard on a distant structure. I could think of where I wanted to be and slid to the spot. The more will I put behind the thought, the faster I slid.

    Even my armor became more familiar. I reduced the thickness, allowing more agility, and increased the hardness with a second round of core freezing. The lighter armor had a slick exterior that gleamed with a black pitch, and along with my aura, it radiated freezing temperature. The wolfbears learned I wasn''t a pleasant meal to bite. That didn''t stop them from trying.

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    I lacerated the two running at me in half with a backslash. Four frozen blocks hit the ice. My foot nudged them to the exit, and I used the extended step to carry out my next heavy attack.

    As the sun turned away, the steady stream of participants died out. I dismissed the fog to encourage participation, and when that was no longer enough, I destroyed my walls. We were back to open field slaughter.

    The beasts I was facing were stronger now. These were the smart ones who stayed away and benefited from the free meals. The lowest rank among them was superior; most were grand. Their enthusiasm lasted only an hour, though none had the power to leave. The night grew darker, and only thirteen beasts remained, all at the epic rank.

    At epic rank, the wolfbears transformed. Their manes were distinct from the males, and the females had white tips on their fur. Their faces were narrow and looked less like chunky bears and more wolfish. Their bodies rippled with muscle. They were strong before; now, they were grossly muscled.

    I couldn''t tell if it was my hunger that thought their grotesque build looked tasty or if I''d been twisted by the dance of death. I''d find out before the end of the night.

    The elites circled me with caution. The howling laughter was replaced with a quick chatter that I assumed called out tactics. A wolfbear charged from the side. I could tell it wasn''t committed to the attack by the look in its eye¡ªa feint. I gave the bear the attention it wanted, waiting for the right moment. I felt the attack coming from my right, but I kept my eyes on the beast charging straight for me. It darted at the last moment just outside my reach. Another wolfbear was charging behind it. In their clever approach, the larger male hid the smaller female. Instead of one surprise attack, I faced two.

    I stepped back, rotating at the waist. It looked like I swung at the wolfbear running away. I strengthened the follow-through motion and cut the head off the bear charging my flank. My momentum carried my blade up high in position for another swing. I stepped out of the way and executed a diagonal slash. The second attacker managed two steps with the help of momentum before falling apart.

    The chatter stopped. Ten elite wolfbears looked at me in terror. There was no more laughter or attempts of intimidation. Not a single one dared to growl.

    The first whimper was quieter than a whisper. Like an infestation, the lowly cry spreads into the hearts of the remaining beasts. The song of the solo whimper turned into a chorus of fearful howls. Tails tucked, the beasts turned and fled.

    I stifled my laugh. I stood as the lone victor in battle. One victory wasn''t enough¡ªnot this loop. In this loop, I was solving the mystery of the wolfbears.

    Three lives ago, I wouldn''t have been able to keep up with the elite beasts. Their claws tore into the ground, and each lunge propelled them twenty feet. They would land and lunge again. I forced mana into a direction and stayed on their tail. It didn''t matter how fast they ran; I was faster.

    Typically, beasts wouldn''t lead threats to their home. I figured these elites were no different. Once I got to the forest, I found their track and let them slip away. The new hunt had begun.

    Tracking and hunting beasts were skills that I was confident in. While the youth in Kukoa were learning to cultivate, I helped my parents find food in the sparse hunting grounds of the high forests. The high mountains offered little where life flourished on lower mountains and below. We had to get creative, and at a young age, I honed my technique.

    My technique continued to grow as I took on scouting roles as a regular and marine. Even as a cartographer, I kept the practice alive. It was in that business that my skill blossomed. I adapted to different environments and learned how to read their secrets. The tales were never prominent: a broken limb on the ground, a hidden path, scratched bark, uprooted plants. Rarely did clever beasts leave behind prints.

    Wolfbears, even the elites, weren''t among the clever. If I kept my eyes closed, I could follow their trail. They didn''t even scatter to throw me off. They stayed as a pack and ran straight, excluding the swerving for trees. I had no fear of the trail growing cold. I did, however, fear my growing hunger and the exposed state I left my body. The hunt could wait another hour or two. It would put the beasts at ease anyway if they were still worried about me chasing.

 28. The Hunt

    I spent the next two hours processing some meat of an elite beast and hiding my frozen corpse. The corpse hiding was the least time-consuming of the two tasks. I scaled a tree and created an ice hut in the thick branches. The tiny house turned out much cooler than I planned, which made me a bit jealous of the dead guy and the sweet living conditions I set him up in. That was until I filled the entire house with ice, further freezing the frozen man in a solid cube. A shiver ran down my spine as I thought of the man in ice confined to his prison.

    Once the wolfbear drained of blood, I cut off the back straps of meat, started a fire, and roasted the beef. The rich aroma filled my campsite, tempting me to dine early. The lingering delicious scent made me grateful that I made dinner plans several hundred yards away from my ice house. There was no way this wasn''t going to attract attention. As the beef roasted, I scavenged for side dishes. It took only a few minutes to wind up with a collection of herbs, wild onions, mushrooms, and berries. The Bloodswoods continued to be a bountiful forest. I cooked up the rest of my dinner and finally ate when the meat was charred outside.

    It was delicious. More than that, my mouth watered with every bite. It didn''t make sense. The flavors countered the nature of spirit beasts. The stronger they got, the grosser their meat became.

    Scholars theorized that it was because they were becoming closer to awakening, so naturally, they wouldn''t taste good. Not many people countered that argument for fear of being labeled cannibals and ostracized from all social events, especially ones involving food.

    Of course, there were counters to the theory, not so much theoretical as cultivational.

    Some devoted cultivators believed they would progress faster if they consumed the entire spirit beast. These people were closely associated with the foulest types of cultivators¡ªvampires.

    More myth than legend, no one wanted to believe vampires were real. They were wrong. Vamps existed and were proof consumption led to power. But that was no excuse to devour anything that pulsed with energy.

    Another round of shivers crawled down my spine, and I rubbed a rogue itch out of my neck. Thinking of the foul-blood lords was almost enough to ruin my appetite.

    I quickly devoured my dinner¡ªsparing the blood fangs no further thoughts, stretched, cleaned up camp, and then got to hunting. I had a full belly, comfort in security, and was only three hours behind my wolfbears. The tracks were still fresh and easy to follow.

    I held Snowpiercer in my hand while I hunted. The old habit was a comfort I didn''t care to eliminate. It felt so right to track and hunt with the bow in hand. It was like an extension of the body, an extra sense, or a focus that kept the mind narrowed on the signs of the beast, and it kept me balanced as I sprinted through the forest. With a bow in hand, falling or getting lost was hard.

    My footsteps fell silent on the forest ground mixed with roots, twigs, dry leaves, and shrubs. Unlike the wolfbears tearing into their path, I left no trace. Water aura projected around me, erasing my scent and reducing my presence. Stalking did not remove me from the picture like invisibility, but it was close.

    I tracked the beasts'' trail at an incredible pace as if their presence pulled me toward them. We crossed miles of forest, sometimes following game trails but mostly forging new ones. The path looped back several times, and a couple of times, the pack of ten split up. The hesitation that I picked the wrong path was erased when the trails united a few miles later.

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    I might''ve been unfair in my earlier assessment of the beasts'' cleverness.

    The elite beasts ran at least thirty miles before they slowed their pace. Instead of deep claws tearing through flora and roots, lighter prints placed closer together were left behind. It was near an overgrowth similar to the one that hid the spring where I lost the trail.

    I inspected the wall of vines of leaves, looking for a sign of passage. The wall remained intact¡ªcompletely unscathed. If it were smaller beasts passing through, I''d understand the green wall left undamaged. These weren''t small beasts. They weren''t even small bears. They were massive, thick animals whose presence couldn''t be contained no matter how hard they tried. The ground couldn''t support their weight, and trees weren''t durable enough to resist scratches when the wolfbears passed. So, it made no sense that their trail ended at the wall, and the wall showed no sign of entrance. Not even the pungy scent of their fur lingered.

    The mystery ended when I placed my hand on the wall, and it disappeared. My hand parted the wall to a swirling purple and green energy vortex. The energy radiated a chaotic nature that didn''t soothe well in this forest. In fact, I couldn''t recall encountering a mana that was so foreign.

    All mana elements had varying paths attributed to the primary source¡ªwater and ice, fire and smoke, earth and nature. However, all the branched paths connected with their root element. Ice didn''t exist without water. This law applied to all branches no matter how far they obscured from their primary energy. The rippling energy before me gave off a hint of a parent element. It was not of this world.

    Portals from other worlds were not an obscure idea. Generally, every adventurer knew that Helm was connected to several different worlds. Most of the time, these worlds were not even aware of the connections and it was just spirit beasts wandering by that would walk into a new world. Sometimes an entire city developed between these connected points. Though developed cities were rare occasions.

    The majority of nexus points only served to host beasts. Beasts thrived in these in-between realms¡ªdungeons.

    Scholars didn''t know precisely how dungeons were created. Some argued that lingering tendrils of mana connected worlds and created pathways between them. Others believed dungeons served as the creators'' way of seeding conflict into worlds. These were the two larger schools of thought.

    The less popular third reason, and the idea I tended to agree with, was that mana just did what it felt like. Mana paved its own path, creating its own nature and residing there until it needed a new home and identity. As much as cultivators tried to confine mana to one element or label it to an identity, that just wasn''t the case.

    Mana was as wild and free as any chaotic source, and as such, it left a wake of chaos behind.

    Dungeons were mysterious, but they weren''t uncommon. Many adventures made a living exploring dungeons. Hell, I sold beginner maps of the weaker dungeons to new adventurers. My time in the military and with Lana''s party even involved a handful of dungeon runs. Those times were the exception. I didn''t like dungeons and generally avoided them. Sure, loot and power were all possible gains. However, the cost of failure proved to be too high.

    I pushed my hand deeper into the portal. The energy parted like water as my hand passed through, and a chill ran through my hand and then my arm. I swiped my invisible hand on the other side, checking for dangers lurking on the other side. I hit nothing, which improved my confidence that the other side was a trap by zero.

    I stuck my other arm through and felt around, getting the same lackluster result. Next, I pulled my arms out and shoved a leg through. The caution was growing ridiculous. I wasn''t scared per se; I just didn''t feel like surprises. It was that kind of day. I swiped left and right again with my leg before pulling it out. I held my breath, counted to three, summoned the courage of a coward, and dashed shoulder-first to the other side.

    I tripped at once. The momentum of my shoulder charge carried me over the edge and into a pit of bones. My skin crawled in disgust, and I was pretty sure something crawled on me, sending rapid shivers down my spine. Tiny pincers plunged into my skin. I cursed and scrambled to get to my feet. The bones proved unreliable footing or any source of stability, and as I shifted to escape, I sank deeper. Drowning in bones and eaten alive became a fear I didn''t know I had.

    The deliverer be damned and his cost of courage.

 29. The Cost of Courage

    I pushed out my aura and washed my body with water several times. A few biters washed away, but a few still held on with their sharp jaws and wormed their way into my skin. I wanted to scream, but my mouth was somewhat buried. I washed more mana over me and then froze my core, covering my skin in frost armor that dissipated when I charged into the other side.

    An ice shell froze around my exterior, breaking jaws and freezing critters. I felt relieved when the bugs digging into my arms, legs, and stomach were halted. The relief barely held together when I realized I still had the bugs inside me. I wanted to dismiss my armor and tear the bugs off of me. The constant tapping of thousands of feet on my ice skin and the clanking of pincers forbade me from doing so. Though I was protected by my layer of ice, I kept my mouth and eyes closed.

    A new fear woke inside of me when I felt a slight itch in my ear. I tried to keep calm, but as the itch grew, my panic became frantic. Was it in my head? It was in my head¡­

    I had to get out, but the more I tried, the faster I sank. I tried to enlist the quicksand strategy of spreading out. That worked to excite the crawlers further, and as they picked at my shell, my mana slowly trickled at a constant pace. My ear twitched. I screamed.

    Out. Out. Out.

    I forced out as much mana as I dared to spare in the direction that I hoped to be below me. Ice layered and built upwards. The bones rolled and crumbled around me, completely submerging me. I pushed mana faster and felt myself rise above the death pit. Bones fell off like water, but the critters remained persistent. The itch near my ears was definitely a crawler. Its mouth reached inside my ear canal, thumping loudly on the side with its pincers.

    I needed to rip off my armor and tear the crawler out of my head. I stomped on the ice platform, creating a mush of ichor and guts. The crawlers paid no attention to the slaughter and climbed up my body. Foolishly, I thought my ice armor would freeze or slow them down. They seemed to be immune to the cold. I washed myself with a wave of water in another attempt to dispel the crawling scourge. It got rid of hundreds. Still, thousands clung on with their razor vice grips and tore into my armor. More had already climbed up my torso, and I could hear the tapping on my back between the constant scratching in my ear.

    A pop rang in my head. Lancing pain in my left ear doubled me over. I bent my head and covered my ear to reduce the deep hurt. The critter continued to crawl inward. I couldn''t hold back any more screams. This was worse than fire. Fire¡­ What did I know about fire? The thought fleeted as fast as it entered my mind. This was no fire. Agony had a name, and it devoured my mind.

    Between my screams of madness, I poured more water out of my body, creating a fine mist. The mist spread away from me as I reduced the temperature. A cold flash was made, and as I added more mist and lowered its structural activity, the temperature dropped tremendously. I continued to repeat the process. The buggers might be immune to cold; I was betting that they couldn''t endure sub-freezing levels.

    Hold on. Just a little longer.

    The bugs latching onto my body fell first. It was barely a relief. My ear rang, fire filled my head, and claws dug deeper. My eyes were tightly shut, and my breaths were irregular. I dismissed my armor and clawed into my bleeding ear with my fingers. My index and thumb reached deep enough that I snatched a lingering leg of the crawler. I held onto sweet salvation with all the strength my fingers could muster. With delicate patience, I pulled on the leg. At the point of tension, I reduced my pull to the gentlest amount of force. It took all my control to keep my hand from shaking and even more to not just yank out the critter. Waves of light and pain flashed through my mind. I kept my hand still and caressed the crawler out.

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    The crawler stopped moving forward. It held its position in my canal. I gave its leg a soft tug, causing it to take a step. Another tug, another step. A tiny prick of another back leg tickled my fingers. I debated whether I needed to regrip the legs or continue with what was working. The courage to gamble on a better grip wasn''t present. I eased another tug on the leg.

    Snap.

    All the resistance I had in my fingers evaporated as a new spike of pain erupted. In a last attempt to rid myself of the foul fiend, I sent a spike of ice through my ear.<hr>

    In hindsight, I made a lot of mistakes on my first jungle dungeon run. The first mistake, which was a glaring one, was the head-down, leg-forward approach. I took so much time being careful and blew the execution. It was a terrible mistake that cost me my life¡­ and probably will rob me of peaceful moments. Even now, away from the bug pit, I couldn''t stop my body from shaking. There was no pain in my ear, but I couldn''t stop the phantom ringing noises.

    The second mistake was being too aggressive with my ice spike. Though, I''d argue that it was an all-or-nothing scenario. I didn''t mean to end my life like that. But there was no way I''d be left with my sanity if I let the critter continue to crawl.

    My biggest mistake, though it was impossible to know before venturing forward, was not bringing enough fire to scorch the infested dungeon. The mistake wouldn''t happen again.

    I ignored everything around my recursion point except for my piked body. With my frozen self in my hand, I headed straight into the bloodwoods. The path to the dungeon remained fresh in my mind. With enough luck, I could locate it in an hour or two.

    It took four hours to locate the dungeon. As one who prided himself as a mapmaker and navigator, the dungeon left me humbled. True, the wolfbears led me all around the forest, crossing paths several times before heading to their home. That didn''t justify a whole hour of me getting lost on my own. I was disappointed, to say the least, and grateful this didn''t happen while I was on guide duty.

    The tongue lashings a guide received for getting lost were cruel and cut deep. Their ratings would absolutely tank in the tourist industry. People mocked my maps for being made up; they didn''t understand the genius at play. It''s hard to get lost following a map if details are made on the fly. Every step forward became a step in the right direction.

    Getting lost wasn''t the only thing guides had to worry about. Camp maintenance rested upon their shoulders, which involved securing camp, setting it up, keeping it clean, and taking it down. Stormy night of sleep on the tour¡­ take it up with the tour guide. Terrible food¡ªterrible tour guide. No food? Also a tour guide problem. Tour wasn''t fun? Tour guide. People dying¡­ tour guide.

    It was a toxic industry, which is why I mostly sold maps and only guided when I needed to prove my maps were legitimate or was short on money. The fact of the matter was that tour guides, like people, made mistakes.

    The biggest mistake is not allowing the error to happen in the first place. Perfect people think they have it all figured out. They were lying to themselves. They played it safe and learned nothing. Faulty people coincidently were the game changers. They embraced their faults and strived to do better.

    My thoughts ran a bit wild while I tied my frozen body to a tree. Tying, in this case, meant using more ice to create another ice fortress off the ground.

    Mistakes ran through my mind as I gathered suitable sticks for torches and created fire. I knew I needed to be smarter, I should be smarter.

    My mind was at rank nine. It was as high as it could get without reforging. The problem was that I had the capacity to be brilliant but lacked the ability to do so. I wish I was smart. I was by no means stupid, but I was nowhere near the clever wizards, bards, or scholars. I had my experiences, and sometimes, most of the time, I made the right choices. It was the few times of lousy decision-making that really weighed on me. I was missing something but couldn''t place what it was.

    Despite my mental fortitude, I didn''t doubt my strategy. Getting stronger was the best bet for my goals, and body cultivation was the fastest path to take without putting my mind at risk of possession.

    "Do better. Be better." These were the words I latched onto to pull myself out of the pit of self-deprecation. On the path of progress, it was OK not to be perfect.

    I lit my torch, felt through the nexus of energy, and stepped into the other side.