Before the end of the day, Blake had encountered two more howlers. They seemed to be the most common beast out in the wilds, and most of them were low-stage. According to Ethbin, they were Mana Condensation one or two.

  Each fight, he concentrated on drawing in the Honour, then condensing and crushing it, expanding the Honour sea into something large and workable. By the end of the day, he’d reached Honour Condensation stage two.

  It was hard to know if he’d actually increased his stage. There wasn’t a click in his mind, nor a massive ‘level up’ notification. Just the word of Ethbin. There was no reason for the ring to lie, though. And he did feel slightly stronger as more Honour condensed. It wasn’t like using an Augmentation technique, but his baseline was improving.

  That evening, he found another tall tree to sleep in, and within a half hour, passed out from exhaustion.

  Usually, it would’ve taken a little longer to fall asleep. Even back in the city, back home, it would’ve taken more time. But he was exhausted.

  But he didn’t sleep all the way through the night. He woke halfway through to Ethbin’s voice ringing in his mind, telling him to move. He sprang out of the tree. His muscles, emboldened by the Honour sea, twitched faster and responded sooner. Or maybe he was just rested, but he was pretty sure there was some magic working there.

  He jumped down, hoisted up his backpack and staff, then ran. There was still a faint, all-encompassing glow from the mists, which Blake navigated by. He wasn’t exactly sure where he was moving or going or running from, but he relished the new speed he could run at. It wasn’t a massive upgrade, but it was a better upgrade than he’d ever felt with mana.

  He muttered, “So this is why the mana cultivators are obsessed with advancing…”

  Not all of them experience the joy of advancement anymore, Ethbin said somberly. But you will, hopefully, never become like them. There should always be joy to it.

  “I don’t plan on it,” Blake said.

  He glanced back over his shoulder as he leapt over a clump of thornbushes. A lumbering shadow prowled through the mist. It was nearly three storeys tall, with the general shape of a gorilla, though it moved much slower. A mane of spikes ran down its back, and its eyes shone cold blue.

  “What’s that?” Blake asked softly. It didn’t seem like it was chasing him, but just to be safe, he didn’t want to be overheard and make himself a target.

  It’s a spiker, Ethbin replied. Nasty business dealing with those, and you’d best be glad it didn’t pick up on your scent.

  “I’m glad,” Blake replied. “How strong is it?”

  Core Formation three.

  Blake nodded, then swallowed. “No way could I kill that. Yet.”

  Ever the optimist.

  “I’ve killed things stronger than I am before.” He jumped over a tree’s mangled roots, then ducked down behind a curtain of moss and watched the distant lumbering beast until it disappeared into the distance.

  You’re not running farther away?

  “You said it yourself. It hadn’t picked up on our scent.” Blake folded his fingers together and grinned. “How much do you wanna bet that it leaves a trail of destruction behind it? Including a bunch of dead stuff?”

  Dead stuff won’t help you.

  “Scavengers trying to feast on the dead stuff will,” Blake said. “Scavengers who I can use to help Condense Honour. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  Fun?

  “I didn’t take a single hit from the last two howlers.” He shrugged.

  You and I have a very different notion of fun. But yes, I understand the plan, and it is…it is a sound plan. Ethbin sounded somewhat reluctant to admit it.

  “Thanks, gramps.” Blake scrambled up the tree he was hiding behind and found a spot in the branches. “But we’ll leave in the morning.”

  Blake didn’t sleep as well for the rest of the night. The excitement for the coming day rumbled in his veins, and everything felt agitated. But when morning came, he was rested enough. He swung down from the tree, shooed away a few Blended rats with vines for skin who were trying to get into his bag, then continued onward.

  He followed the trail left by the spiker. Its footsteps left deep holes in the bog, which were only just beginning to refill, and it had plowed through trees and ripped up shrubs in its wake.

  Blake didn’t see any dead monsters immediately, but the more he followed the trail of destruction, the louder the squawking of crows and other carrion birds became. He kept walking until he reached the corpse of a fallen howler. Three crows the size of a small child hunched over the corpse, pecking at it and ripping meat off it. Their feathers were stained red, as were their beaks, and they had ram horns curling out the tops of their heads.

  As soon as they spotted Blake, their heads snapped toward him.

  Well, you wanted scavengers, Ethbin said. You can take these fell-crows. They’re only about Honour Condensation three.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Blake raised his staff and pointed it at them. At some point, he was going to need an actual staff, and actual training with it. But for now, he could beat up a few crows.

  They all spread their wings at once and let out a long squawk, which sounded almost like a goat’s bleat with how long it lasted, then sprang off their perch and charged at him.

  “Here we go…” he breathed. He swatted one to the side, then charged in, intaking Honour as he ran. Surely, this fell under the category of bravery, and he was also noticing Honour from loyalty. If he lost the fight and died, Ethbin was going to be stuck here a long time. Possibly forever. He couldn’t allow that.

  Whether he was a lord protecting a servant or a servant protecting a lord didn’t matter. Honour flowed.

  The crows were tougher than he imagined. Even an Augmented strike to their wings wasn’t enough to break their bones, which he had to admit, he would’ve liked to hear a satisfying crunch from.

  But they had to have a weak spot. Everything did.

  While he fought, he concentrated on his Honour sea. It split his focus, but he needed to condense that Honour. That was the point of this fighting, wasn’t it?

  It turned out, the crows had no weakness. He slowly wore them down, until he pinned one under his boot and struck it with his staff until it stopped moving. The others converged on him, but eventually, they met the same end. Blake was left kneeling in the mud beside four corpses now, panting, and having condensed more Honour. Probably more than the entirety of yesterday combined.

  As an experiment, he tried moving the vital energy. The Honour in the sea seemed locked in place. He could push it around a little bit, but he couldn’t guide it around his body like he could with other free Honour, the kind he got mid-fight.

  But the sea was more like a sponge. Some of the free, loose Honour remained dissolved in the sea, which he willed out into his muscle and skin channels. He experimented, moving it around, but not yet powering an Augmentation technique.

  He tried using it to push into his intestine meridians, then keeled over in pain once more. It wasn’t the same as real pain. Spiritual pain. It made his channels blaze, almost like a ringing in his ears, but in his gut. It felt just as terrible as real pain.

  After a few seconds it stopped.

  “I’m going to try something,” he said.

  No, whatever it is, don’t—

  Blake tried to push the free Honour into his lung meridians. He didn’t have much of it, and it was going to dissipate soon if he didn’t cycle it back to his Honour sea, but he was fine with that. This was for experimentation.

  First came the spiritual pain, which he expected. But then his lungs stopped breathing. He couldn’t will them to move even if he wanted to. They were completely frozen. His body tightened with fear, and his eyes widened. He was going to die.

  Like this?

  No. Not happening. God, that’d be so embarrassing. Especially after Ethbin had just told him not to.

  He couldn’t make the fear go away, but he could still manipulate his Honour. A second later, and with a gasp, he pulled his Honour back into his muscle meridians, taking it away from his lungs and the blockages he’d encountered. He stopped probing the lungs, and with shuddering breaths, he resumed his regular breathing pattern.

  What were you thinking? Ethbin exclaimed. Trying to open a meridian with sheer force? That would never work!

  “I…” Blake scratched the back of his head, then shrugged. “I didn’t die. Also, how come you couldn’t read my mind.”

  If you don’t even know what you’re doing, then how could I?

  “Impulses…” Blake chuckled.

  Be serious, Blake. You could have killed yourself with that.

  He inhaled slowly, remembering the burst of fear that had overwhelmed him. It was like choking, but ten times worse. “Yeah. I could have. But I need to open the meridians, don’t I?”

  You didn’t know better? You didn’t know the consequences of failing to open it? If you’d gotten any farther and failed, you could have destroyed your lungs—for good.

  “No. How could I have known? I only spent the minimum two months in the reeducation schools before they realized I had no potential and kicked me out. I was only there long enough to learn the very basics.”

  I must apologize, then…I thought you knew more than you did.

  “Maybe. But I’m here to learn. Could you…” Blake crossed his arms. “Okay, can you tell me what the meridians even are?”

  It is another word for channels, but they refer to specific sets of channels. They’re for carrying mana through your body. Usually, you’re young when you first start envisioning them, and you don’t have as many blockages in them. Those will build up through years of a mortal life.

  “How many meridians are there?”

  Twelve, in two groups of six. There are the Aes meridians, for strength and leadership: Muscle, Skin, Lung, Heart, Bone, Spine. And then the Vir meridians, for nature and prosperity: Intestine, Endocrine, Brain, Blood, Stomach, and Root. I suppose there may be different notions of them now, or different notions in different cultures, but I will teach you what I know. The order I listed them tends to be the easiest order to open them, but you will need fine Honour control, and you will need more Honour. Most people have their Lung meridian open by Honour Condensation stage four, though it is only a requirement for stage six. To get past stage seven, you need all your Aes meridians open.

  Blake nodded. “Alright. Then I’ll keep working.” He pushed himself up, wiped as much mud off as he could, then continued along the trail that the spiker had left.

  By noon, he’d killed two more giant crows and a giant magpie that looked much the same, before Ethbin said, Get off the trail!

  Blake didn’t argue, not when Ethbin spoke with that voice. He jumped off to the side, then ducked into a set of thornbushes. It was the closest cover, though it scratched him and made him regret ever having skin.

  Soon, your skin will be hard enough to never worry about thornbushes again. So keep quiet.

  Blake shot back a silent, Yes, I will.

  He kept watching the trail. After a few seconds, a human emerged from the mists, approaching the trail from the other side. He was a middle-aged man with a brown beard and long hair, and he wore cultivator armour—angular plates over a lamellar vest, with stripes of bright red green etched across it. Like most of the Nords, he had fair skin and turquoise eyes.

  He carried a pair of small axes in his hands, and his chest was heaving. Blood trickled down his shoulder, and his cloak was smouldering. The rank seal on his shoulder pauldron displayed that he was at the sixth stage of Mana Condensation.

  Blake pursed his lips. A little weak for a mana cultivator, especially out in the wilds, but then again, ambition drove you to do crazy things.

  He was about to let the man pass. There was no need to get into a fight with a cultivator at the moment.

  But then the man sniffed, tasting the air. “Fiend…” he grunted.

  His head swivelled toward the bush where Blake was hiding. He drew back his arm, preparing to throw his axe.