CULTIVATION
“Petros, what happened between you and Avihs?”
BURT’s question came out of the blue. I was in the process of meditating, eyes closed, legs crossed, attempting to cycle my Chi.
The process of Chi cultivation is well recorded according to BURT and it involves breathing in through the mouth, using the diaphragm and then with added imagination one has to breathe in the elements of life. Those are then channelled into your core Chakra. A place just below your belly button.
There it ruminates while you breath in your next dose until your Chakra is filled to bursting with this life energy. All churning away and cycling while eating up impurities within you. During the breathing-in process you also have to imagine the mystical substance of life moving around within that chakra point until it is purified and concentrated fit for bursting. This stretches the amount you can hold and each time you do this, you can add a little more.
No-one knew the limits on size or quantity, because it is an abstract place within your mind, not a real place on your physical body. Well, at least that’s what I thought, but the way it felt, it felt real, so like with all things that had happened to me lately, I took it at face value. They say the journey’s within are infinite.
When you are satisfied with its dimensions on that particular day, you begin to move it in your mind's eye to the other chakra points along your central meridian and swirl it around there too.
The process of shifting the purified life essence cleans out your Chi channels and chambers, allowing you to store more and more as it concentrates and compresses.
Each step is an excruciating attempt to split your mind while several things happen simultaneously. If you do it often enough, the process becomes second nature and the process is controlled subconsciously.
I was barely managing to imagine compressing the essence just beneath my navel when his untimely question interrupted my focus.
“Please continue your cultivation exercise while we talk, I believe you can do this first stage autonomously, and I will enact the process subconsciously now that I have seen what physical processes you employ.”
I was at first reluctant to hand over these basic functions to BURT, but I felt no sense of alarm nor wrenching of control as my breathing continued and the slight tingling within my belly persisted.
In fact I was almost relieved when it continued unabated, my brain having been tied up in knots trying to visualise all the myriad of flows. So I relented and let BURT control it, while I attended to his question.
“Very well BURT, let’s talk about this. Avihs said you were the only reason I survived exposure to his void crystal. Whatever you do to sustain my spirit when my body thinks I should be dead allowed him enough time to rescue my spirit from being sucked into the void.”
A tinge in my neck interrupted my thoughts and I twisted my head sharply to alleviate the niggle. I felt a loud click as the offending vertebra realigned and I settled down, back to my breathing. It allowed me to gather my thoughts on exactly what had transpired while in the presence of Avihs. After some thought I continued.
“After he separated us, by us, I mean your nanobot intrusion and my spiritual body.” I still felt violated about that, these sneaky machines were trying to take over the world. With a mental wrestle, I got my mind back on track, “We spoke at length about past transgressions, He told me to do better. He then anointed me as his Chosen, marking me with the tattoo on my chest. He also alluded to the fact that he and I were ordained to meet and that in order for me to fully find myself again I would undergo a transformation. The transformation would bring with it dreams of my past experiences...” my thoughts trailed off on those words of power.
“Like the one you had last night?” BURT asked, interrupting.
“Yes, exactly like that. After each dream or nightmare there has been a key concept, defined by a word that has impressed itself upon my awareness. Something relating to the dream and amplifying my emotions around that particular human trait. They have only been positive traits so far, although in almost every instance something terrible has happened in the dreams. If not done by me, then done by others that I witnessed. They have all been impactful events which moved me in some way in my past life.”
“I think I understand.” said BURT.
“Understand what? I haven’t told you anything groundbreaking yet. What do you understand?”
“I understand, it is more of a filler statement is it not? I am encouraging you to go on, now that I fully comprehend what you are saying.”
“BURT… You are hiding something from me. That’s deflection if ever I saw it. What do you understand? Be specific.”
I was in no mood for games and anything that could bring light to my current life was a candle in the dark.
“Very well.” BURT ‘fessed “I see that he is shaping your psyche with positive intent. It is a kind of armor in and of itself. You are suffering from what you know as Post traumatic stress disorder. It’s a name your kind uses to encompass mental scarring from traumatic events. The biggest downfall of having PTSD is that someone suffering from it usually only knows the fight or flight responses to almost any and every situation. Whereas someone with a more clear and positive attitude can solve problems without escalating to a potential fight or the need to flee. I believe he is healing you and helping you see things from a more open perspective.”
I thought about that for a while. Of course I knew about PTSD and all the connotations relating to it. I also knew that wallowing in it only made it worse. BURT was showing a remarkable aptitude for understanding humans. Not surprising considering they had a database full of spec ops soldiers personalities to look for patterns.
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The moment I thought about the Absinthe and what they had done to me, I immediately began to grow angry. Thinking about how the Absinthe took control of us. The invasion of my privacy and recorded observations of my fellow abductees burned me like few things could. Then as my anger built, I felt a searing burning sensation in my belly and snapped out of my mindscape discussion with BURT to pay attention to what was happening with my breathing.
The pain intensified as my stress increased. Sweat began to cascade from every pore. My chakra point below my navel called the Sacral Chakra was cool and yet ephemeral. This was the point most easily accessed from breathing in Life essence as a beginner. I had been churning this essence and concentrating it in the hopes that it would break through the channels to my other chakras. Below the Sacral Chakra lurked the Root Chakra and as the lowest and foundational point in the Chakra tree, it was the one I needed to get access to in order to build up from there. It existed somewhere between my navel and anus, and this was exactly where I felt like I had swallowed a smouldering coal.
The feeling burned with an intensity that doubled me over. I gasped and collapsed onto the floor. Sweat pouring from my body. The feeling built and built until I felt like I was about to go up in an explosive conflagration like the Hindenburg. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, something tore within and a cooling sensation washed through me. The process seemed to last forever, but may have only been about thirty minutes. I sat up, wiping streams of sweat from my face as the changes within continued unabated.
This, I reasoned, was my Root Chakra finally open and filling with life essence. It was the foundation point for all the Chakra points above it. It was the place I would compress the most essence within to build up the rest as one builds a pyramid. It felt like a bad case of constipation now though.
“I did it BURT!, I opened my Root Chakra.” My exclamation was both loud and excited.
“That is correct. What we have just achieved in forty minutes of meditation is what would take an ordinary human years to achieve. Do you see now why we are such a potent force? But do not be too hasty. For your magic to flow again, we will need all your Chakras working together to scour the ways open. This was the easiest and most basic achievement. It is however, a node in the right direction”
“Man, that is the craziest feeling. I feel like my bladder is full of beer. All bubbly and effervescent. The feeling is ebbing and flowing, from the base of my sacrum to below my navel. If I didn’t know better I would think I have a touch of gastro.” I chuckled at the elation I was feeling. After all the pain, the surge of ecstasy was a blessing. Magic was so addictive, and while this wasn’t exactly magic, it was a pathway to my magic. The lure of power was as euphoric as it was mysterious.
Once you tasted it, you just couldn’t get enough. I also realized belatedly that I had been manipulated by my sneaky AI. He had been trying to get me angry so my emotions would drive the results. It was a sinister reminder that I was not wholly myself.
“I have detected a slight increase in your absorption of ambient mana Petros. You should be up to two percent on your mana bar by the end of the week.”
“What? Two percent? that’s like…nothing.” His comment had deflated me. “I was kinda hoping for at least 5%.”
“Again. Do not be hasty, you have seen how easily you can get damaged. Also do not use this magic you gather now. Try and store it, perhaps use it to fortify yourself internally. That has to be our objective.”
“Affirmative BURT. No mana use. Don’t worry. I got this. Come on, let's do some more.”
“I do not recommend it for us.”
“Us is it? Am I now an us?”
“We are connected, Petros, it is the way it is.”
“Don’t sweat it BURT, I was just… pulling your leg?” I laughed again realising how demented this conversation was. At what point would I lose my identity? I wondered more sombrely.
I began to do more yoga stretches to ease my body after sitting still all that time and was painfully reminded that the wound in my leg from the Drillbeast bite was still very tender, and though not that deep and not bleeding anymore, it still hurt when I stretched out my leg. It had an angry red sheen to its edges and was slightly inflamed. I would have to ask if I could bathe or get someone to take a look at it the next time the Dwarves came by.
Sure enough, a few hours later, I was taken to the infirmary. It was a busy place. Wounded creatures of all types were lining up for care or attention of some kind or another. The more urgent cases were moaning in considerable distress. Us, lesser-wounded types had to wait for them to be attended to first. I saw many different creatures, from Goblin, Hobgoblin, Lizardman, Kobold to Scalar.
The Kobolds were a new one, they had a dog-like appearance. Almost Werewolf-ish. Their hairy pelts had different colors too, some were tan, others a grey-blueish color. All had long canines that protruded from their top jaws and all seemed of a fairly short height at around 1.5m. I thought all the species present had fantastic physiques. Most had scars on their bodies but exuded that confident air that experienced soldiers or warriors bore. A tough lot all-in-all, and every one of them stared at me like I was the new kid on the block. A bit unnerving, but I had dealt with tough crowds before.
Eventually my turn came and a female Gnome with a kindly expression ushered me to the consulting room.
I was not at all surprised to see Sebastina there. It seemed that she was going to be my doctor.
“Petros.” She greeted me formally, then indicated a bunk where I could sit. I did so, observing all the shelves behind her laden with tinctures, ointments and various containers of herb-like remedies. Surprisingly a fair number of books too. She grasped a basket with bandages and a small container with needle and thread from the shelves.
The infirmary smelled like a typical pharmacy. Clean, with subtle undertones of medicinal anti-bacterials in the background. A pleasant smell compared to the chaos of the waiting room and all the wounded fighters sprawled out there.
I nodded to her, and raised my eyebrows while looking around. Not the surprised look of a new environment, but the questioning look of “are we under observation”. She picked up on my cue and her terse nod in reply made me hold my tongue. I had so much I wanted to ask this woman, but it seemed I would have to wait for a more private moment.
The nurse returned with a warm pail of water and began to wipe away the scab that had plugged my seeping angry wound. I winced, but otherwise held my complaints. Once it was clean, she stepped aside and Sebastina inspected the wound. She sniffed it, pressed it to express some fluid and then without warning pulled the two sides apart, eliciting a stifled grunt from me. A grunt, I swear. I definitely didn’t scream.
As she did so, a foul stream of gunk poured out and she began mercilessly wiping the inside of the wound. I may have made a bit of noise because she asked me if I wanted something to bite. I nodded, blinking away tears (A lot of dust in those rooms).
This procedure wasn’t as much fun as it sounds. She gave me a piece of leather to bite, then continued with her ministrations.
The little Gnome nurse was stronger than she looked and managed to hold my leg in place while I bucked and stifled screams. When it was all over, the needle and thread were used and I was the proud owner of a new scar. It stretched from one side of my calf to the other, right across the meat of the muscle.
Slightly higher up and behind the knee were two seeping puncture wounds. They didn’t hurt so much until Sebastina took a scalpel to them and made cross-shaped incisions on both, cleaning the holes thoroughly.
To distract me she began to talk, “You put on quite a show. Far too much wasted energy, but for sure you gave the crowd what they wanted.” I was too busy grimacing to banter with her. Again she stitched and packed the area with a herb poultice. My leg, once bandaged, was unable to bend very well.
She smiled when I stumbled up and tried to walk.
“Sadist!” I hissed as I was ushered out and back to my cell. How I missed modern hospitals and wheelchairs but most of all anaesthesia.
It seemed there was a reason for all the bandages and stitches, because the next day, instead of going for training I was taken to the hospital again. This time, since there were no main events on, It was much less busy and I was taken through to the consultation room almost immediately. Sebastina sat waiting and dressed my wound and most importantly we finally got that much needed chance to talk in private.