Luke listened to his breath. The whispers around him were closed. The lacking light not a hindrance, but a focus. He became nose blind to the slight smell of blood wafting off the Doppelganger.

He endured the sharp wooden handle piercing into his palms. The essence swirling in his hands numbed the pain; he tightened his grip, lowered his knees, and let the coldness of a year’s isolation spread to his body’s surface.

Frost mixed with essence. It coated his blade, crept around his feet, and formed on his arms. As if repeated practice had achieved a breakthrough, Luke evened out the volatile frost essence, spreading it to his eyes.

He found the previous sting from the last time fell further, even with the lack of frost resistance. Ice crystals thinned in his respiration. The ice on his body smoothed.

Insulted and alarmed, the Doppelganger sprang forward. Luke calculated, noting the monster had no essence control or even any essence in its body. A creature desperate for validation from others to blunt having no individualism of its own.

It was an empty shell, similar to who Luke was after his dad vanished but before he found Sooty.

But not who he was now.

Luke’s perception had raised further once the Frost Essence evened out on his eyes. He witnessed a blurred image next to the monster. Its movements always slightly ahead of the monster itself.

Chilled mist gathered around Luke and spread out before him, welcoming in the Doppelganger. Like a scan, the fog provided the Reaver with feedback, relaying a fundamental analysis of the creature’s rough movement pattern, speed, and strength.

Blood pumped, and Luke’s heart squeezed from the strain.

The Doppelganger began to speak, but Luke controlled his hearing.

Focus on what matters. See the enemy before you. Hear not his words but feel his action.

Annoyed by Luke’s lack of acknowledgment, the Doppelganger raised its weapon, ready to kill. Smashing down its wooden sword, the blade snaked toward Luke’s head. He stepped forward once and turned his body. With no room for clearance, the wooden sword slid by his body, barely damaging him.

Keep my movement to a minimum, preserve myself.

Luke sliced his sword at the monster’s knee, cutting into the side. Frostbite spread, and he breathed into the monster’s eyes. The ice crystals within pained its eyes and caused its follow-up attack to stop.

The Reaver saw the shade’s movement next to the Doppelganger; he put the wooden sword in front of his stomach, knowing his agility couldn’t pull off the needed maneuver to dodge completely. Wiping away from its eyes with one arm, the creature tried to punch Luke in the stomach with the other.

What is this other sight? He asked internally.

There was a slight recoil when the monster’s flesh met Luke’s wooden sword, but Luke slid back significantly regardless. Fifteen damage points scrolled up his vision. Ice formed on the Doppelganger’s hand.

The monster yelled, but Luke refused to hear it in this state. There was no room for hesitation, for the ramblings of his enemy.

Place my blows in one spot. I don’t have strength to spare.

Luke stepped once, focusing on the image beside the Doppelganger. He let ice form to the bottom of his foot, sliding him around a swift strike from the creature. Luke pierced with his wooden sword, landing a glancing blow on the same knee as before.

The gray turned to black around the Doppelganger’s knee as the blood became blocked by the building frost. Luke gathered frost around his left foot and kicked the wounded knee as the monster swung down with its sword.

Let’s trade, you overconfident fake.

Its knee inverted, and the ruined trajectory of the swing caught Luke’s shoulder. Another negative fifteen danced across Luke’s vision. He huffed from the pain but used the extended left foot to regain his posture, stepping down.

Luke’s Frost Essence spread like a virus across the Doppelganger, eating away at the difference between the two.

My body aches, the frost within hurts to move around.

Sensing this, the monster swung down with all its might. Luke turned his chest to the side, and the blade smashed into the iced ground beneath him. A tuft of his black hair fell in front of him.

Luke breathed concentrated air and frost essence out, and it pushed the hair into the creature’s eyes, sticking to them. Unfortunately, he overextended the measure, and his lungs lost too much air. Slowing his next movement.

What else can I do to better use elementalization? It’s the only way I can think of to overcome this.

The Reaver breathed in, and the creature kicked wildly with its healthy leg. It crashed into Luke’s side. His body flew, stopping against the corrupted black crystal behind him. The forced weakness caused blood to spill out of Luke’s mouth. Pain tried to ruin his thought. His vision clouded around the monster. But the young man refused to give in.

How do I manage it in Essence Feedback? What’s the difference?

He noticed the monster gloating, opening its mouth while laughing, hauling itself forward with the one useable leg. But Luke kept his eyes on its ruined knee. He dragged himself forward, step by step, his wooden sword in parallel. Another thought came to him.

It’s command. The frost comes from me, so why shouldn’t I be able to control it after it leaves my body’s surface?

The monster’s once-white sclera was red with irritation. Luke reared back the wooden sword, waiting for the proper distance. An insight had come to him. Now was the time to put it to the test.

Another shade appeared next to the creature, and the Doppelganger followed its steps in near tandem.

Luke exhaled and closed his eyes. He heard a step pulverize the ice ten feet in front of him. Then it was nine feet.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

He could ‘see’ its body through the chilled mist he released in the area. He commanded the frost in the Doppelganger’s knee to detonate, sending the monster into a momentary debilitated condition. Luke opened his mouth.

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“Hesitation.”

Ice exploded under his feet, blasting him past the monster, damaging his body. Luke turned himself partway in the air, he forced a leg down, and the ice underneath pushed him toward the creature’s back; the move ruined the leg but let Luke enact his plan.

“Is.”

Frost coalesced to his wooden sword and up behind his upper arms. The ice underneath cracked. He willed the frost on his arms to rocket the sword forward. The frost detonated around his body, accelerating Luke. The monster began to turn, but it would be too late.

“Defeat.”

The wooden sword smothered in pure Frost Essence shredded into the Doppelganger’s back, sliding right through its heart. Luke commanded the frost he created around him. As a conduit, it all surged through his body, then fulminated in a massive pulse inside the monster, pulverizing its heart and glaciating its organs. The monster turned into pure white ice. Luke ripped the wooden sword out from its back, falling to his knees in exhaustion. His body crashed to the ice beside the creature; he hemorrhaged all over his arms and feet.

He reopened his eyes and turned them up to the still-standing monster. Slowly, cracks spread over its body, reaching every inch. Luke’s hearing returned, unable to sustain the focused state any longer.

As the monster turned into a shattered pile of ice shards, Luke heard the Doppelganger say, “The road against the gods is endlessly long, Defier.”

The monster’s frosted remains misted away into the air, and a set of words floated in the air before Luke.

[Expertise in detected technique confirmed. Restoring to unsealed state and ending the evaluation]

A vortex similar to the one he was thrown into appeared, rotating right above his body. Luke was swallowed whole. Before the Reaver could collect his thoughts, he reappeared in front of Iona, face down to the stairs.

A black pentagram emblazoned itself onto the back of his left hand. Strength quickly returned to him. Although he remained in the white robes for whatever reason, his wood sword turned into ice mush next to him. The return in strength temporarily left him paralyzed as his body adjusted to the stat roller-coaster, wreaking havoc within. Xera and Wayfinder were in their typical position, but his other clothes remained in the Inventory.

“That’s alright, Aspirant, try again next…huh?” Iona rubbed her eyes, then squatted down to Luke, picking up his left hand. She stared at the pentagram, then back at Luke. Repeating the action multiple times, she unconsciously gaped with her mouth.

“Impossible! They said the requirements would be too high for any farworlder to reach for years. How…how in the world.”

She released Luke’s left hand and recollected herself for a moment. Afterward, she hefted Luke over her shoulder effortlessly.

Luke tried to speak, but the words came out slurred. “Urghh, puf mi-”

Iona spoke, her volume high from an unexpected event, “Let your body re-adapt to your stats. It’ll take a couple of minutes. In the meantime, listen carefully.”

The Beastmaster began moving up the stairs, going up the spiral at a leisurely pace, in part to ensure Luke stayed clear of the yellow stonework.

“Let’s start with the good stuff, hot shot,” she twirled her hair with her free hand, “you passed. World Spirit knows how, but the result is on your left hand.”

Luke placed the palm of his hand in front of his eyes. Glancing back, Iona saw this; she snickered, “It’s opposite of your palm. It’ll go away after a while, only appearing when you want it to.”

The Reaver turned his hand and saw a pentagram etched in black. Red dots peppered in the inside formation. A yellow mark laid at its center.

Iona continued to trudge up the steps while holding Luke like a sack of potatoes, “Now that you’re part of the family, you’ll be brought up to speed.” She coughed, “Hopefully, you can speak better by now. Tell me, Luke, do you have a profession already?”

Luke managed a weak “No.”

Iona’s eyes lit up in excitement, “Perfect, we’re going to have a hay day figuring out the best match for you. As for the process of getting you to become one, don’t worry about it; we’ll cover you.”

Luke wanted to ask what that process was and why he needed a profession but couldn’t muster the energy to form complete sentences.

The Beastmaster carried the conversation by herself, “We’re going to provide the reagents needed for the ascension ritual. You’d shame us if we let you into the wild without reaching the first tier.” She tapped him with her palm, “It’s fortunate you passed; otherwise, with the shortage from the rising Monster Tide, you’d never scrounge up everything you needed for weeks at least. We’ll have to pull from our storage.”

Luke shifted some while on Iona’s shoulder. He felt more acclimated to stats again, but a mental haze stubbornly clouded his mind. A breakthrough in control for elementalization and overall essence control fried his brain. His eyes slowly started to close.

Iona shook him violently while keeping in mind Luke’s weakened state; the effort kept back the drowsy call of sleep. She said, “There’ll be time to sleep soon, Luke. Pay attention to what I’m trying to teach you.” Once Luke made a showing of forcing his eyes open, Iona kept on, “I noticed half of Sylen’s underworld is after you, but now that you’re with us, they’ll pay the price for their greed. Tomorrow, we’ll have what you need. Prepare yourself. The ritual is always hardest the first time.”

Shortly after, Iona reached the portion of the stairway that connected to where the main floor was. Careful not to swing Luke against the arch separating the stairway from the main hall, Iona took Luke into a princess carry to fit him through safely.

The tooltip for these white robes said I’d not die of embarrassment with them on. I was lied to. Luke internally complained.

Xera shook with laughter in her sheath. While Wayfinder kept opening and closing his clasp.

“Your compass and sword move an awful lot. Why is that?” Iona asked, her brow arched. She seated Luke in a comfortable lounging chair and flagged down a servant.

Luke kept his mouth shut, hiding behind his weakened state to act as if he couldn’t manage an answer.

As a nearby servant walked over, Iona stared at him, “You don’t have to try and cover for them. I know they’re both artifacts.”

The Reaver’s eyes widened to their limit, his heart rate sped up, and his upper body tensed.

“In that case, hi, Iona. Gosh, you’re so pretty. Whatever you do to make your hair shine like that, please give me some so my blade can sparkle as I slice off heads! Being like Mr. Silent is too boring.” Xera boisterously hollered.

Wayfinder, however, kept quiet, not as amicable as his sword-wand counterpart.

Iona took Xera’s sentience with minimal surprise; she crouched down and asked, “And who might you be? My friendly blade?”

“I’m not a blade. I’m a-”

“Xera.” Luke forced out, his tone incredibly unhappy.

“Aw…okay. Sorry, master, being constrained rarely works for free spirits like me. Iona, I’m Xera.”

Contrary to Iona’s more composed state, the servant tora woman stood with a hand near her mouth, eyes bulging every time Xera spoke.

Noticing this, Iona said, “Come now, Kulwa, Xera here is no different from Annika’s weapon. Could you prepare a new room for Novice Defier Luke? We’ll need to get him settled now that he’s part of the family. As you leave, have Hedwig bring refreshments, please; as you can see, he’s half-aware.”

Kulwa bowed in apology to Luke, “Forgive me for my rudeness to your blade, Defier Luke,” she turned to Iona, “I’ll prepare his lodge and alert chef Hedwig at once, Defier Iona.”

Iona returned to her conversation with Xera, a smile on her face, “Sorry for that, Xera. Care to tell me more about yourself and your master? He’s part of us now.”

Rather than answer, Xera asked, “How come I couldn’t be there for the test? It must’ve been exhilarating. He had a big battle, right? I want to have blade-pumping, wand-swirling battles, too.”

The Beast Master sat across from Luke, “It’s nothing personal, Xera, that happens to everyone who attempts our test,” her face grew taunt, “prevents the trash from being carried through their material gains rather than what we care about, their personal skill and technique mastery.”

Xera shook in her sheath, “Hey, Luke, you’ll make it up to me, right?”

Luke had glazed-over eyes by this point; the exhaustion had caught up to him. Already, his breathing became even and steady.

“Seems our newest member has hit his limit; interesting, to be this exhausted,” she scanned Luke, “reminds me of when I exceeded my technique from adept to expert.”

Iona opened her mouth only to close it again; a look of consternation covered her features. Rather than ask more about Luke, she instead chose to make small talk with Xera, occasionally scratching Timber’s ears.

During their wait, Sooty and Lulu returned, the owl landed before Iona’s feet, greeting her. Sooty settled on Luke’s lap, softly giving an intermittent caw or click when speaking to Lulu.

Hedwig, the main chef for the kitchen of this building wing, served a teapot with lightly seasoned cakes, fruit, and soft bread. Sooty immediately raided the fruit. Lulu picked at the bread. Iona helped herself. The intended recipient, Luke, had left the conscious world by now.

“Xera, when he wakes up in the morning, let him know our conversation isn’t over. But, for now, pressing further would prove useless.” Iona clapped her hands, and three servants appeared within seconds.

She gestured to Luke, “This is Defier Luke, as you can see, he is out of commission currently. Please see him to his room. Kulwa should be in the midst of preparing one for him. Bring him there.”

The three replied, their words fighting over each other for airtime.

“Yes.”

“Without Delay.”

“As you command, Lady Iona.”