Blake scrambled through the mud, feet slipping, but he kept his grip tight. He wrapped his arms around the neck of an enormous rat and pulled tight, wedging his staff into its throat. It scrambled and clawed, and it’d already landed a deep gash on his leg. But right now, it couldn’t hit him.

  It could only thrash.

  It was a Condensation stage five monster, though there was nothing special about it. Just an overgrown rat, engorged on mana or something like that. Blake had been more interested in killing it, and less interested in Ethbin’s explanation.

  The rat threw itself backward, desperately trying to drown Blake. He shifted his Augmentation to his back, protecting himself as he slammed into the mud. His harsh, combat-focussed breaths were perfect for condensing Honour, and the longer it went, the more of that invisible flame liquified into a pitch-black sea around his siphon.

  But though it was black, it wasn’t nearly as thick as mana. It rippled, and waves crashed through it. And bubbles of usable Honour roiled in it.

  He pulled his staff tighter around the beast’s neck. He was pretty sure he heard one of the rat’s bones break, but his own collarbone sent spears of agony up his neck and down his side. It was broken, that much was certain, and he couldn’t go on for much longer without opening his Bone Meridian.

  The rat pushed him down, driving him deeper and deeper, until the mud sealed his face and covered his mouth.

  That rat just had to die before he did.

  It didn’t matter if he was drowning, because it was choking too. It thrashed harder. He couldn’t see anything. He shouted and yelled, trying to make the pain in his shoulder more bearable, but it was a miracle he didn’t let go of the staff.

  Finally, the rat stopped moving.

  Blake burst out of the mud with a gasp and wiped his eyes, then bashed the rat’s head a few times for good measure.

  He crawled over to a solid patch of land and knelt on it, surveying the bleak mists. He had no idea where he was anymore, and since he couldn’t see the sun, he couldn’t determine any cardinal directions.

  But he didn’t want to leave the mists yet. He glanced over at the rat, then narrowed his eyes. Unlike other monsters, it was beginning to decay. Its flesh melted away into black ash, and its bones crumbled to dust.

  Leaving behind an outline of the rat. It was black and gray, almost like someone had sketched a wireframe of the rat onto the surface of the world. It trembled for a few seconds, glanced at Blake, then charged off into the mists. He never saw it again.

  “What was that?” he breathed.

  That was an Echo made manifest, Ethbin said. There is a chance that one will be left behind when a monster, spirit beast, or cultivator dies. The chance increases the more powerful the creature was. It isn’t relevant to you now, but they can be a useful resource to cultivators later in their advancement.

  Blake flicked mud off his hand, then said, “I see.”

  After a few minutes, he’d gotten himself slightly cleaner, then dug around in his bag and pulled out a ration pack. “I’ve got enough food for one more week,” he said. “Think we can get all my meridians open in time?”

  I don’t think you have much choice, Ethbin said. You will have to try. Do you have any free Honour available to use?

  Blake cast his attention down through his body, focussing on his Honour sea. A little bit had gotten trapped in the dark waves, but it was just a by-product of the fight. He hadn’t gotten a good cycling technique yet.

  That should be enough, now, Ethbin said. Today, we’ll target your Lung and Heart Meridians.

  “Why is it important that I open them?” Blake asked.

  Ethbin was silent for a second, as if Blake had asked a really stupid question.

  “I mean, really…why?”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Because you can’t form a full cycling loop without opening them. You’ll never have an effective Honour gathering technique. You won’t be able to use Shaping or Smite techniques, or high-end Augmentation techniques. A Smite technique uses the Aes Meridians, Shaping uses the Vir Meridians, and proper, full-body Augmentation uses both. Never mind that Channel Opening is the sixth stage of Mana Condensation and you won’t advance without open meridians.

  “So…the sixth stage is when I’m supposed to be opening them? How come mana cultivators can use Smite techniques before then?”

  When you’ve opened all your Aes Meridians, you can use one. They usually have all their Aes Meridians open before the fourth stage, because it’s convenient to do it early, and the sixth stage is a breeze for them.

  Blake nodded. “So how do I do it?”

  First, you get yourself somewhere safe, so you won’t get eaten by a monster.

  With a grimace, Blake set off through the muck, marching toward the nearest tree. He climbed until he reached a tangle of branches.

  Are you going to fall down if you go unconscious? Ethbin asked.

  “Should I expect to?”

  For your Lungs and Heart? Not an expectation. But there is a risk. There is a risk that your blockages are too ingrained in your being, and you will never push through them, and that the strain will cause your lungs to stop functioning at all.

  “Lovely,” Blake said. “Anything I can do to prevent that?”

  Don’t try to open it so late in your life and accept your lot.

  “I don’t think that’s an option. I have to try.” He laid down in the branches, getting himself comfortable, then looked up at the misty sky. “Right, so…is it just a process of pushing Honour through the channels?”

  No! You are absolutely not just pushing the Honour. You must form the Honour into a needle. Puncture the center of the blockage. The rest should break and flow through, and the impurities will crumble out.

  “Alright…”

  He started without hesitation. He extracted the free, non-condensed Honour from his sea, and let it snake out through his muscle meridians until it reached his lungs, where, as usual, it came up against a spiritually painful blockage and stalled.

  He had to form it into a needle.

  He pulled the Honour back away from the blockage and imagined it. He was supposed to envision it at some point, wasn’t he? The more he held it, the more he willed its shape to change in his channels, the more it seemed to gain a presence there.

  Instead of turquoise light, the Honour was more like a raging orange fire. It was difficult to change the form of, but…

  Remember, Ethbin said, your willpower guides the Honour. How do you control your willpower?

  “By breathing…” Blake whispered.

  He settled into a steady, stable breathing pattern. Even though his siphon wasn’t drawing in new Honour from that alternate form of him (was that his Echo?—a question for another time), he remembered the timing, and breathed like the swaying of the siphon’s gate.

  He pinched the Honour into a needle-thin tip, then jabbed it forward, right toward the blockage.

  It pierced through instantly, travelling through what felt like feet of sludge before emerging through the other side. Blake gasped at first. His lungs shuddered, and his breathing pattern broke.

  Then came the spiritual pain. He screamed, craning his neck back, until he couldn’t hear himself, but slowly, it faded. He clenched his jaw.

  Now that he knew what to expect, he was ready. There were plenty more blocked channels before he could cycle Honour in a loop around his lungs, and there was no better time than now.

  ~ ~ ~

  By the time Blake finished clearing his Lung Meridian, he lay curled up in a ball on the branches. The channels were clear, but his lungs ached, like he’d just been coughing for a week.

  And then he actually coughed. Spasms wracked his lungs. It felt like they’d filled halfway with mucus.

  That was pretty much exactly what had happened. He coughed up a stream of brown and red tar. It clumped and bubbled, and the stench and taste almost made him throw up from his stomach too. It was sulfuric like rotten eggs and sour like rice vinegar gone bad.

  For a few minutes, his stomach shuddered. He blinked, trying to center himself. A voice within his mind nagged him, begging him to give up and give in. Just go back to the city, submit himself to Svarikson, return the ring, and hope he gave Blake a quick death.

  He shut those voices down as they rose. When they finally quieted down, he rolled over onto his back, and the warm presence of Ethbin settled down on him like a blanket. “Does the doubt ever go away, old man?”

  It…softens.

  “You still doubt yourself?”

  Forever. We’re knights. We’ll always be weaker, always be on the back foot, always struggling against the urge to give up and make things easier. Your entire life will be a test.

  Blake said nothing.

  That’s what it is to be a Knight. You’ll keep passing the test if you refuse to give up. It’s a choice that you have to keep making.

  “I…” Blake shuddered. A chill ran down his spine. “Thanks, Gramps.”

  You’re welcome.

  “I’ve never had a grandpa before.” Blake looked up at the sky. “I…”

  It’s alright, kid. You’ve done well.

  Blake curled his fingers up around the Honour Ring and whispered, “I think I’m ready to clear the Heart Meridian.”