“I see. So they are strong in that way.”

Osias was being briefed upon Kiran’s discoveries to the North and the traits of the brood of hounds. They reunited as Osias saw Kiran arriving at where the ridge met the Southern face. Hidden atop a tree, Osias came down slightly confused after seeing how battered his brother was upon return.

“But if the venom works to make the one’s an Ordeal above more effective, then won’t the same work for the Brood Mother?”

“That's right. But there is no way of telling unless I face the broodmother. The Ordeals are fickle, there is a chance.”

It was night, and although Kiran set up some weak defenses for a pseudo perimeter out of habit, Osias was fearful of a possible onslaught of hundreds of hounds in the night.

“Hey brother, they won’t come on this side of the mountain, right?”

“I don’t know.”

With a frown, he laid down and tried to sleep but he just couldn’t stray away from the thought, ‘Am I going to die in my sleep?’

Wrestling his thoughts, he tossed and turned and eventually relented to simply staring past the canopy of trees and into the sky. With an unamused huff, he rubbed his bandaged arm, “Still hurts.”

Tonight he couldn’t sleep on his side…

With a heavy sigh, he shifted away from putting pressure on his arms and chest. So it left him laying on his back.

Bringing his attention away from his aching wounds, he gazed upon the stars. The speckled lights illuminated the night sky. Something so unchanging, even as years passed. The night always came along with its stars — a certain darkness is needed to see the stars after all.

…Though boundless and beautiful, Osias couldn’t help but feel small from the mesmerizing sight.

He wasn’t privy to such sights when he was at the Band, too much time was spent deep underground within the chambers of their Great Mountain. From the selection to the testing and to the completion of the tattoos, to gaze upon sights like this so freely… Osias didn’t know how to feel.

But if all of this was possible at the expense of everything left behind, then Osias would’ve liked to stay within the mountain chambers.

‘Mother…’

He heard from Kiran, that after this mountain, the journey North would only be harder. From the mist and everything beyond.

They will encounter Third Ordeals regularly.

That they have no other option but to fight…

Although they were still in the ‘Outer Valleys’ they were still within the reach of the Great Factions. Not only could Osias and Kiran be caught by human Path Finders if the Great Three Factions resumed expanding their borders, but they also had yet to face the true horrors of the Outer Valleys.

The truly ancient ones. Old demons that never dwelled so close to the land claimed by the Path Finders of man.

Some were known, but it was difficult to ascertain the legitimacy of their findings. But it was a fact that they exist.

The only reason why the Band was called usurpers wasn’t because they claimed the Southern tail of land from the Tailed Brothers, but because they slain the creature of the Fourth Ordeal that occupied it.

Garm, together with the Third Ordeal elders of the band…. All of whom possessed unnatural battle strength cut down the beast that tormented the Tailed Brother’s Southern border for so long.

He heard it from Garm himself, one of the stories he told in his leisure after putting down the needle that inked him.

‘A white titan covered in ivory,’ Garm detailed.

‘As large as the walls that the Tailed Brothers cowered behind.’

‘Deep scars covered the beast, plastered in blackened blood.’

‘Each of its ivory spikes, sharp and large enough to gut a Blood Path Finder whole.’

‘And it spoke. It spoke their names.’

‘As it spoke, my friend sprouted a bony spike, cleaving his chest open, blood spilled as it split him in half. A good man he was before the bone jutted from him.’

He shook slightly, fear gripping his tired body. If he was to have nightmares tonight, then it’ll be of a speaking beast.

Long years have passed since Garm’s retelling, but the words still lingered. What were fantastical japes told from an old life’s past were torturing him now.

It makes him wonder if they should've taken their chances disguising themselves somehow and travel the road.

But very soon… his eyes closed in exhaustion, the pain could only hold back his slumber for so long as he drifted into the calm embrace of his dreams.

—

Osias slept peacefully, pushed and prodded at by Kiran until he was awake.

He opened his eyes, find himself in the presence of a bleak, cold morning, and the mountain forest was as leaden as the sky.

Blood seeped the earth, even spreading to their modest encampment by the ridge.

Today was to be different than any other since the day their feet met the tops of the Outer Valleys.

Osias was to formally begin his training — the essence of training he has yet to learn from the Band.

“Before you start… how old were you again, Osias?”

An annoyingly long silence hung between the brothers before Osias replied:

“Thirteen Moons. The Fourteenth arises soon though.”

“I see,” Kiran replied curtly before adding:

“What do you know of esse — no, blood essence itself?”

“... It strengthens our body, both passively and actively. Like any other essence from other Paths.”

“And?”

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“We can't replenish it naturally. We take. We steal. We reave. Unlike the others.”

“How about the blood essence of others?”

“Like how essence seeps into our bodies passively and strengthens it, the same goes for blood. As Path Beast and Path Finders grow in power and essence, the more essence gets immersed into their blood, and we take it forcefully through our Innate Ability.”

“Mm.” Kiran simply said in reply before finally adding something of use:

“Because of how in tune we are with how our blood flows, thereby our essence, our skill with manipulating our essence is naturally better than others. There are exceptions though, good and bad.”

“You’re nothing special compared to the others on our path, behind even. But you'll personally train with a Second Blood. Sing your praise.”

“A Second Blood of a Fallen Band.” Osias snapped back.

“Mm.”

Kiran couldn’t deny it and his quiet sigh hadn't gone unnoticed by Osias. Such titles weren't of importance anymore. Especially out here, in a land unclaimed by any.

“In the Band, the standard way to be more aware and more in tune with your body was to start with simple training with a weapon. There was another technique, but I’ll teach you the standard way because your teacher is only me — grab your sword.”

Osias brandished his short sword, poised and all, yet it looked so small and harmless compared to Kiran.

It wasn’t anything special. Slightly broad-headed and single-edged, but was reliant as it was resilient. It lasted him all this long.

Though… it was called a ‘short sword’, it was quite long for his arms. It was made to fit him as he grew rapidly into a full-fledged blood-born.

He wielded it with two hands, though he could strain himself to use it with one hand if needed.

“Swing down, no essence.” Kiran’s voice sounded.

Obliged, Osias brought the sword above his head with both hands. Toes dug into his boots, he shifted weight subtly to his rear. A hand below and a hand above, he pushed down with one and pulled with the other as his hips belted fluidly. Swift and decisive, he bent slightly and his upper arm followed the descended sword.

“Good, good. I want you to cut me down. Sever an arm or a leg. Try to behead me.”

Osias froze from the remark.

“Are you sure?” Osias asked meekly.

“You cannot kill me. Your sword cannot even pierce my body without my help. Now go on.” Kiran barked as he brandished his own weapon — his titanically-sized spear.

Osias breathed in deeply. He hasn’t wielded his sword against another… person before, much less his brother. But Kiran was right, it was impossible to kill him. Osias simply didn’t have an answer to Kiran’s almost arrogant assertion. Seeing Kiran die was impossible, it was implausible.

And then he rushed forward.

“Use all the essence you want. It’ll be faster this way.” Kiran said as kept the swift Osias at bay.

Heeding his words, Osias ignited his blood essence. He was faster, his feet pounded against the forest floor as he approached Kiran.

Turning around trees and making his way closer he jumped over a wild large root of a tr-

“Agh!”

Osias staggered back on his ass. Kiran just thrust the butt of his spear shaft against him. Heavy and gaunt it cracked against his head. Wet with grass, his roughspun cloak made dirtier than it already was. He shook his head wildly, bringing himself out of his daze with a brief moment of rest, and continued.

“Where is it… that edge? I’m asking you to kill me, Osias.”

And then just as he crossed another tree closer to Kiran, he brought his lead foot outwards for another step and then an impossibly fast thrust barreled to this foot.

“Ah-” He let out, the sudden jarring pain was cut short as another thrust pounded against his rear foot this time.

“Focus your flow on the pain. Bring your essence there as you take each step. It’s not perfect, work out the rest on your own.” Kiran berated him harshly.

Tightening his already firm grip, Osias raced out towards Kiran, heeding his advice. Now, he wielded his sword with one hand, brought out against his side. His essence raged and flowed harshly.

With a furrowed face he crossed the false distance made by Kiran — something only possible with Kiran's permission, and brought his sword hand up to attack his elder brother’s front.

But Kiran brought his leg forward and kicked him in response.

Osias was launched back and tumbled against the ground, feeling as though his entire chest caved in against his ribs — a familiar feeling just a mere day ago.

“Do you feel a little angry? You’re sloppy. Hone yourself, you have no right to be angry. Keep moving.”

Osias didn’t say anything in reply, perhaps a little ashamed of having his frustration called out. He focused, not allowing his flow of essence to sway as he focused on the parts Kiran pointed to.

It all points to his lower half. Everything begins with your feet, Osias knew this despite his lack of strength.

Exploding forward from the ground, he once again brought his sword to his side as he came close to Kiran.

With a hook-like swing, he aimed for Kiran’s lead thigh. It was the only thing he could reach on the mountainous person before him.

His swing missed, just barely, but he used this miss to flow into his next attack, only for Kiran to slam the butt of his spear directly onto the back of his non-sword hand.

“Good. Use everything to survive. That side of yours is invaluable… Fear cuts deeper than swords.” Kiran said as the handful of dirt was released from his hand’s grasp.

Osias only spat back in response. He was on all fours on the ground and rushed forward, his first few steps were on all fours like a rabid and feral dog.

Grasping the hilt of his blade with two hands he brought it to heel and violently swung from his side towards Kiran’s leg again. He was once more taking note of where to focus his essence.

With another miss of his sword, he was met with a thrust to his abdomen, knocking the wind together with spit and blood out of his mouth. His hand clutched where he was hit, and gasped heavily as he heaved in for air.

“Be mindful of your abdomen as you go for a swing. Your shoulders too.” Kiran said.

Letting go of his gut, Osias once more came at his elder brother with a growl.

It was debilitating. With every step, Osias was met with a wicked and heavy blow.

“Can you even reach my head, Osias?” Kiran snapped at his weak attempts to kill.

In the next moment as Osias crossed a weave of trees, he threw his blade at Kiran, its tip pointed for his elder brother's neck.

“Throws are good. But to throw away the only thing capable of piercing my skin?” Kiran chided with a huff as he knocked the sword out of the way.

“Use what you have and do what you can. Pick your sword up, and keep going. Focus on controlling your essence.”

And hours pass like this.

Osias swung his sword.

He missed.

He got berated and got hit.

He comes again and cracks his sword at his brother.

Over and over until suddenly, Kiran withheld his spear and told him it was enough for the day.

Hearing this, Osias dropped down, his entire body was battered. His mind was tired after countless beatings. It felt like each part of his mind clawed for every speck of focus and concentration to use his essence more efficiently.

He sprawled against the ground and lifted his eyes towards Kiran. And sure enough, Kiran was already preparing to scout the boundless horde and its Brood Mother.

“All… already going, brother?”

“Mm. They should know where we reside and yet they don’t send any hounds to us. It’s odd… and I don’t like sitting in wait. I need more information.” Kiran said, and added:

“You can stay. If they haven’t sent any hounds over last night and the many hours past dawn, then they won’t send any.”

“Mm,” He said, not bothering to waste what little energy he had left to think of a reply.

“Want me to throw you atop a tree?” Kiran asked as he slowly walked outside of their small camp.

“Th-Throw me off the ridge instead.” He stammered and huffed out between heavy breaths.

“Nothing weak arises from fortitude.”

The words trailed off and Kiran was already off. Osias squinted at the faint figure who left without humoring him.

With Kiran gone, Osias let out a deep sigh in reprieve.

‘Exhausting.’

It was crude but efficient teaching. Each mistake was hammered out of him.

He knew though, that the Band used real combat the most throughout their teachings. It was natural for Kiran, a man born of blood to follow teach the same as he was taught.

If anything this training was tame. Most of his age, those from the tenth moon to the sixteenth moon are brought along in small skirmishes outside the Band. Embroiled in combat, they were forced to learn to survive.

Born of blood, the youth of the band mustn’t be weak.

He recalled, once he was speaking with another his age — someone who was unlike him, and couldn’t house Garm’s tattoo. The youth was returning from a raid amongst the villages North…

A unit of Tailed Brothers came to face them as they slaughtered the village. The youth was fast, faster than the others who came along with him. The unit of Tailed Brothers cut down and gutted those who could not run. The First Blood that overlooked them paid no mind to the fallen and continued their march to the lands of the Band, far enough that the Tailed Brothers could not pursue. They scaled mountains. Fled along wartorn valleys. Swam across lakes in the black of night. The First Blood was left with just three of the youth, including the one that Osias spoke to. The First Blood was aloof, yet pleased with the culling as they reported back to the Band.

Osias sometimes thought of this culling as cruel and grueling. Throwing a child, no more than their Ninth Moon against grizzled Ordinary warriors, sometimes even First Ordeals.

But Osias himself could not waver. Although the Band did not exist aside from him and his brother, he must still prove useful.

Even if the culling of the youth only included himself.

Even if the culling would eventually turn into madness.