I closed my eyes, basking in my victory. Less than ten percent of all cultivators reached this stage. I had first-hand experience on why. It took me dozens of lives, an abundance of mana, and the gift of time to get here. The grind leaned in my favor, and the climb felt steep even then.

Water mana flowed through my channels. The act of cycling was as easy as breathing. I didn't have to give it a thought. Azure mana flowed, anticipating its chance to be free—for it to take form and exist. My will was its freedom. I'd felt connected to my mana at the rank of a knight. Now, I felt more like I was water. What I wanted, it wanted. The power inside intoxicated me. It was no wonder templars were gods among people. Sure, they were only the second realm of power, but among lancers, especially the lower ranks, they might as well be gods.

Cal essentially said this level wasn't strong enough for what I wanted to accomplish. Though I felt like an almighty being, I agreed. Mages were two realms away from where I ranked, and in between those realms were several levels and layers that I needed to add to my soul. I'd get there eventually. One stage at a time.

Templars were divided into five stages: disciple, deacon, bishop, cardinal, and apostle. The belief was that once a cultivator reached this height, their progress became more spiritual. It was their devotion… their personal deity to worship. The ranks didn't sit right with many, but who were we to change what was established? The levels and ranking had been around a lot longer than the cultivators, and they would likely last longer than all of us.

I celebrated a moment longer, appreciating the sacrifices made to reach this point, and then returned to work. Just because I was a templar didn't mean I had the power of a templar. That would take time and practice—which I found myself zealously devoted to.

Part of me almost wished I hadn't conquered the entire dungeon this loop. I wanted to measure my new level of strength. Unfortunately, that meant waiting for the next cycle. The other part of me was grateful I had so much time to tinker with my new powers.

Without touching my dome, I shattered it. The individual shards of ice scattered. Each piece, from the largest ice chunk to the smallest drop of water, resonated within my senses. It wasn't just my broken shell, either; the ambient moisture connected to me as well. The connection extended approximately twenty yards in each direction.

All things within my field of awareness were known to me. The rat poking its head from its burrow and sniffing the air, waited eagerly for me to leave. The water soaking through them told me stories of life below. Even my sensitivity to the other manas heightened.

I extended the water flowing within me outward. The energy connected to a shard of ice this size of my leg about twenty feet away. Using the link, I pulled on the ice. The shard flew toward me. I pulled harder, increasing the speed of its flight. I willed my energy to halt just before it stabbed into my outstretched hand. The ice hung in the air inches from my hand. I pushed it out with only a thought, and the shard fired away, its speed matching the velocity of my throws. Not bad.

I knew my skill was rudimentary. Templars didn't need to connect their internal mana to external forces. They could just control their connected ambient energy. In time, I'd get there too. Until then, it was basic training.

For three days, I devoted myself to external mana manipulation. Connecting my internal mana to external mana felt comfortable. However, I needed a connection to manipulate the ambient water energy. In my circle of awareness—what would become my domain—I should be able to turn the moisture in the air into ice or even gather the humidity into a pool of water or rain down shards from the heavens and wash away opposition with a mere thought. I could only make it rain a few drops at the moment.

The slow progress didn't dissuade me.

Hunger, on the other hand, wouldn't go a moment longer without being addressed. I had a dungeon full of dead beasts. With my enhanced endurance, I could eat the old meat without fearing sickness. The thought didn't appeal to my appetite or sound fun. It was time to test the skills I had.

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I launched myself into the forest with incredible speed, searching for anything larger than a rat to hunt. Inside the forest, my awareness surged with a flood of information. Life thrived in every inch of this space. The information overload hurt, making it hard to process or think. I had to stop moving, and my hands instinctively reached to massage my head. Life thrummed in every direction, each thread beckoning to be acknowledged and known.

As I remained still, my mind adjusted to the new way of life. My faster processing speeds developed a pattern and digested the information systematically.

I scanned for threats first. Significant presences second. Afterward, I looked for anomalies and anything that felt out of place, such as the snapped twigs and broken leaves. I mostly ignored the more minor stuff, like small crawlers and nasty things. Only if they got too close or seemed hostile would their information be brought to attention. With my new connection, I saw life in a new color. It was beautiful

It didn't take long to find a trail. At the edge of my awareness, behind trees I couldn't see past, water pooled in a hoof print. The hoof was half the size of the wolfbear, but it cut deep and had clear signs of it being from a boar. Compared to a wolfbear, the print was small; for a pig, it was enormous.

The stout beast was intimidating. Hogs were mean, and their fury increased exponentially with size.

Back on the island, I had more than my fair share of experiences hunting the beasts. They were fast, stubborn, and had a crazy side of aggression. I learned quickly enough that being careless while hunting the meaty prey would be costly. My parents went hungry for two weeks to pay for the salve to heal my wounds. Had it not been for their sacrifice, my thighs and stomach would be painted in scars. I would've gladly taken the scars.

I focused on the information from my sphere of awareness on the pig's tracks. Tracking became a whole lot easier. Instead of being restricted by the narrow vision of my eyes, I had a broad and accurate sense of an area of sixty feet around me. I sprinted and slid through the forest as fast as the terrain allowed. Not once did I lose the trail.

After fifteen miles of tracking, the trail became fresh. Even without the puddles of water that easily located the trail, I could still sense imprints now that I knew what to look for. Beyond that, sweat from the beast lingered in the air. The salty and dirty aroma mixed with the moisture and created another path to follow—a path I wouldn't be able to see without my greater connection.

I ran for another thirty minutes before I found my prey.

The boar was indeed massive. It had black fur except for the grayish-white tuft on its head. Its eyes were dark and beady. The hog's front hooves dug deep into the earth, followed by its snout and tusk, which severed thick roots like they were cutting through water. The muscle on the pig rippled as it shook off the dirt from its snout. It sniffed around, looking for food. It found its next food source and dug a new hole, ripping out more roots.

Had it not been for my aura suppressing my scent, the boar would've found me and charged. Wild pigs typically went out of their way to prove they were bastards. Enlightened pigs took the bastard complex to a whole new realm. Soggy and sows were meant for each other. It was as if the hooved spirit beasts wouldn't be content until everything around them was miserable. A look at the torn-up ground was proof enough; Soggy's bastard was no exception.

I connected the ambient energy with my bound mana. I remained out of sight while I formed the ice spear above the boar's head. When the boar stuck its tusks into the ground, I forced the spear down. The spear of piercing sank deep into the spirit beast. Its eyes blazed with fury as it reared its head as much as it could. It huffed and squealed in a terrible eruption of sound. I formed another spear and struck.

The boar turned about, its hooves dug into the earth, and it charged a shadow, piercing the air. While it hit nothing, I sank a third spear into its back. The boar gored into phantoms. Before I could attack again, it charged a new spot, repeating its attacks.

It took three more spears to defeat the beast. The grand-ranked boar laid on the ground in a puddle of blood. Even as a corpse, the pig spat its malcontent. It was not pleased.

I noted to chew on its meat cautiously and have plenty of fluids to wash down the spiteful morsels.

I hung the bastard up, bleeding it dry, and gutted it.

I didn't choke as I feasted. While not as delicious as the wolfbears, the meat was still juicy and tasty. I ate past satisfaction. When I was done, I made a small fort and rested. Tomorrow would be a full day of training.