Water cultivators, hydros, 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 passive.

The cool 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 armors 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.

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.

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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. My short-lived lives had brought 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. It tried 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.

I focused 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.

I used my semi-frozen hand to punch my other hand. 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 distant blanket of stars.

"Yes!" I basked in the moment of victory. It was important to celebrate wins, big or small. This one felt big.

I managed to temper my excitement to further test my armor. I could still move my hand. "Yes," I shouted into the darkness, my frozen fist pumping in a solo victory dance.

I calmed myself down to a rational level of excitement. Tests still needed to be executed.

Sweat gathered at the palm of my hand, holding onto an ax. I couldn't watch. I closed my eyes—committing a heinous sin of the ax—and 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—a bastard left hand at that, which had stabbed the no longer righteous 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.