A few days later, Ewan finally removed the bandages—his hand breathed fresh air for the first time in days. The injury left him huge burn scars, but it didn’t hurt anymore. Even though he could already use his hand since several days ago, he waited till his status showed no injuries to take off the bandages.

His ‘Spirit’ also grew to 1.6 now. He could try the hub again with that, but he chose not to. Reaching the shop wasn’t his aim, he also wanted to bargain, if possible, check the item with his , and complete the transaction. An increase of 0.3 just wasn’t enough to cover all those aspects.

During this time, he practiced spellcasting with , studied other spell circuits, studied Astylinds anatomy book, and trained Orange; this was his usual routine. The progress with Orange became obvious when Ewan narrowed down his actions—punch, punch, and only punch. He made the little monkey do nothing else. After going through several sessions, Orange at least got the form down. He didn’t need to become a professional, he just had to have it as an instinct. Orange was still an Astylind after all, if Ewan shoved the techniques down his throat, it would mellow his feral side.

Instead of bogging it down, he wanted to enhance Orange’s special talent. So, he tackled its applications next. With the punches over, he focused on his legs. The complexity of it made the kicks a hurdle to teach Orange, so Ewan focused on the thrust based on his talent.

And the first time he used it, he vanished from Ewan’s sight and the ceiling hammered him; it kept him dizzy for a good hour. Once Ewan confirmed the little monkey indeed received no injuries from using the Fire-Anima this way, apart from the crashes, he loosened all restraints.

He used all the leftover cardboard he had in the house and built a maze of sorts in the basement. It was a disaster at first, Orange busted through the cardboard walls. But he got the hang of it after a while and gained some form of control over his ability; he only scorched the walls now.

Little by little, time passed by again.

…..

Barrentide—the months of death gave way to Frosthelm—the months of silence. It rolled in much harsher than the last several years. It didn’t even snow yesteryear, yet knee-deep snow covered his yards now. The continuous blizzard of three days threw the colony into an eerie silence, and it still raged strong. Trams halted their engines, schools closed their doors, offices shut their shutters, even the workaholic Uncle Thain took a few days off and was unreachable on his official contact—he only picked up his personal phone.

Bundled in a thick velvet quilt, Ewan sat on his chair and slurped his piping hot chocolate milk in his room while reading the Astylind anatomy book. The basement ran frigid these days, even his improved physique didn’t help much. So, when he wasn’t training Orange or casting spells, he spent most of his time inside the house.

Flip.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Orange stopped chewing the pen and flipped the page for him.

The heat from his body gave Ewan some relief, the high temperature around the little monkey became his blessing nowadays—he acted as a natural fireplace.

Several minutes later, he licked the last drop of the milk and kept the book in his claw-ring, preparing the hub connector. His ‘Spirit’ had grown to 2.0 when he woke up this morning, this much was enough for his venture on the hub. He leaned back on the chair and connected his spirit. The same process repeated, but he was faster this time, his point of view also rose.

Once he selected the cheapest shop again, he bolted out of the door with a deep breath. Carpet of snow covered the market; the black blobs of spirit contrasted the white background. But he paid no heed to any of it and floated away as fast as he could.

A few turns later, he reached his destination with much strength to spare; he had enough spirit left to bargain for a couple rounds without disconnecting and could even use if he finished the transaction fast.

Inside the shop, a blob of spirit larger than his drifted around, arranging items on his shelves.

“Hello, I need Astylind blood. Level-1.”

“Of course. How much do you need?” The blob of spirit hovered towards Ewan.

“Show me first,” Ewan said. And the man took out a small vial from one of the shelves and placed it on the counter between them.

Identify.

[Item Name: Astylind Blood (Mixed)]

[Item Description: A mix of different Astylind’s blood. High concentration of Level-1 Earth Rhino’s blood. Low concentration of blood thinners.]

“How much?”

“One liter for one Novas.”

“Make it five liters, it’s mixed stuff,” Ewan said.

“Haha, why don’t you loot my shop brother.”

“Would if I could.”

“Two. I also must earn some profit.”

“At least four.”

“Three liters. I can't go any higher,” the shop owner said.

“Do three and a half and we have a deal.”

The quiet took over the shop for a moment but soon, the owner agreed with a hum and an okay. Ewan paid him one Novas and got three and a half liters of mixed Astylind blood. Luckily, his Pa rented a safe zone here, he could send the container to his place with a single gesture.

“Don’t tell anyone I sold to you so cheap. But do recommend my shop to your family and friends. I’ll give you another special discount for it.”

Ewan hummed a mindless reply and cut his connection.

Back in his room, he rubbed his aching forehead. His safe zone had the blood, but he waited to recover before connecting again; taking out items from there also used spirit after all.

….

In the evening, Ewan brought out the glass containers full of blood using the hub-connector and headed for the basement. The frigid gale smacked his face and chilled him to the core when he hauled the sliding door open; shivers ran down his spine. The snow overwhelmed his view, there was only white and more white as far as the smothered horizon went beyond the fences. Cold and lifeless, yet beautiful, certainly a sight to behold. But this beauty could kill without mercy.

His legs sank knee-deep as he slogged to the shed against the snow blast, leaving his trail behind in the white—it would only exist for a breath in the storm though. Once he was inside the basement, he closed the door and patted the snow off his head and jacket and sniffed—his nose had reddened a little.

About the special Astylind, he’d already made up his mind. He remained indecisive about it for days, but once he asked himself a simple question, his answer became clear.

What would he regret more?

He might or might not regret if he contracted this Astylind, but he would regret it if he didn’t. Rather than mourn for the chance he missed here, he wanted to take the risk and deal with the consequences. There must be a reason that his family passed down this Astylind with each successive generation. Even if its edge bit his flesh one day, he wanted to accept it.

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