Over the next few days, Jerome continued with his routine. He had gotten better at it now, as it felt like he was juggling five balls all at once—not impossible, just difficult.

He also visited Ash occasionally for a chat. During one of these conversations, they had a very interesting discussion.

"Are you suggesting that the world is round? That's ridiculous!" Ash exclaimed.

Jerome tried to explain, "Something’s keeping us grounded to the earth, which also prevents us from floating away into space—"

"But what about those who walk close to the edges? They'll just slide off the sides of the planet!" Ash interrupted him, adamantly arguing her point, “They wouldn’t even know they’re close to a bend on the surface of the planet!”

Jerome gave up arguing with her. He couldn’t even remember why they started talking about celestial bodies in the first place.

“Well, then jump up, Ash,” he said.

“What?” she asked, not getting his point.

“Just do it, I’m tryna prove something,” Jerome urged.

Ash got up from her chair. They were sitting on the terrace of her room in a manor, west of Kilian’s Palace. Ash jumped up and dropped down. She held up her hands gesturing to Jerome to say, ‘And what’s your point,’

“What pulled you down?” Jerome asked,

“Duh, I can’t fly,”

“So, because you couldn’t fly you dropped down to the ground,” Jerome stated, “Birds can fly, yet they need to flap their wings to stay afloat, if not they’ll fall down just as you did,”

Ash gave his words some thought for the first time that day, “So what is this thing that pulls us down, then?” she asked with curiosity in her eyes.

Jerome studied her beautiful face with satisfaction, “It’s called gravity. It’s a force, that acts on every object on the planet,” he said smiling. He couldn’t have Ash thinking the world was flat. That was just so caveman-like, “The sun’s round as well as the moon, why should the earth be any different?” he continued.

“I’ve got to meet up with some other disciples to train with this evening,” Ash said coming out of her reverie.

“Oh, girls...or boys?”

She smirked and flew out of her terrace while laughing at him. Jerome chuckled and looked down in time to see her land in a perfect stance.

“Don’t overwork yourself!” he called out to her.

"You too!" She replied with a laugh and disappeared from sight.

Jerome leaned back into his seat on Ash's terrace, savoring the refreshing breeze of the winterless Farryn. Rumor had it that a preceding Sovereign of Vorthe had altered the climate of the central region, allowing for optimal farming and animal husbandry. Or at least, Rihal said it was rumored.

It was a feat of godly proportions that left him in awe. He knew that he had to focus on himself, though. The insights he had gained from his training thus far consumed his thoughts—not shooting fireballs though, the other one.

Jerome sighed, "If I keep doing the same thing, I'll get the same result. No amount of mental energy will change that."

"How does one mask essence?" he muttered to himself, seemingly speaking to the air. Jerome chuckled at his own absurdity, but then an idea sparked in his mind.

He studied his surroundings, observing the wind's movements and patterns. Jerome breathed in deeply, inhaling essence with the air. The wind had its own distinct patterns, some of which resembled mini cyclones. That thought struck a chord in Jerome’s heart. He realized there was a pattern in nature, even when there wasn't one.

“The earth rotates eastwards on its axis and revolves around the sun, the moon revolves around the earth, the sun revolves around the center of the galaxy, and the galaxy revolves around the center of the universe – wherever that may be!”

Jerome raced to Kilian's Palace with superhuman speed and assumed a cross-legged position in his room. Meditating and cycling until he reached a state of calm, he surrounded himself with an invisible cocoon of mental energy.

This time, however, the cocoon was in motion, rotating around Jerome at a slow pace. It was an uncomfortable experience, and he had to push himself to his limits before collapsing from mental exhaustion.

"That was torture," he muttered, feeling dizzy. He hit the floor and passed out immediately.

~~~

Jerome practiced tirelessly until dawn, requiring little sleep or food. As his body regained its vitality, his dependence on sustenance and rest decreased gradually. He had reached a point where he could go for a week without succumbing to hunger or exhaustion.

After practicing all night, Jerome gained greater control over his mental energy. He discovered that not only could he use his mental energy for longer periods, but it had also become easier to use.

His mental prowess had advanced, and his mind felt much stronger, capable of withstanding almost anything.

Opening his eyes, Jerome kindled a fire in his palm and wrapped it in his mental energy. With ease, he began to control the fire's form, intensity, and visibility. He was thrilled with this new discovery.

“Incredible!” he screamed and someone down the hall lashed back, “Keep it down!”

The essence that kindled the fire is undetectable! He thought almost unable to control his excitement.

“I wonder if I can use this ability on physical objects,” he muttered to himself like a crazed person.

Jerome formed a dagger using Suzzie and surrounded the dagger with his mental energy. However, he remembered that Suzie couldn’t detach from his body. Albeit, he had caused the dagger to float about five fingers width above his palm before that realization dawned on him!

Jerome went around searching for Rihal. His excitement couldn’t be contained. He finally heard from Kilian that Rihal had gone on a mission and wouldn’t be back till the next evening.

Kilian could see that Jerome had made a lot of progress in the past four cycles. His physique was better, and his vitality was stronger, and Rihal had reported that his knee was better.

This was all thanks to the fact that his core was already in good condition before he awoke from his slumber at the bottom of the river in Blade’s Edge Canyon—a fact neither the Sovereign nor any of them put into consideration.

“So, what did you want to discuss with Rihal?” Kilian said, smiling at Jerome.

“Lord Kilian, do you know how assassins mask their aura?” Jerome asked excitedly.

“Yes. I’ve not practiced it myself, but I know of it.” Kilian replied.

Jerome didn’t bother explaining further, he just lit up a flame in the palm of his right hand. Kilian was surprised. He didn’t sense Jerome rotating his core to direct essence to his palm. It happened as though the fire was created by a flint.

It wasn’t over though. Less than half a breath later the flame visibly became transparent. The only evidence of the flame on Jerome’s palm was the warping of space around his palm. Other than that, there was no evidence of a flame on his palm.

Although Kilian was a Spirit Realm artist, his perception was not as powerful as those who cultivated to become expert fighters. He was a scholar and focused on research, so even if he tried, he wouldn’t have been able to see through Jerome’s stealth technique. If it were Rihal though, Jerome wouldn’t have been able to block out his senses.

“That’s impressive,” Kilian said with a smile, “you may not have heard, but all those going to Terra Praeta from our side have been training together for a few days now. Would you like to join them?”

Jerome looked questioningly at him. Hesitation, written on his face. The only Sprout he knew among the Royals was Layla, and she wasn’t really a Royal.

“What are they like?” he finally asked.

Jerome knew how privileged rich kids acted. He didn’t want to join them on the chance that they were different from other elites of noble birth.

“How do you mean?” Kilian asked, pretending not to understand the question.

Jerome raised his left brow, “Are they egotistical, maniacal, entitled, and, or psychotic,” he said while slightly moving his head from side to side.

Kilian cursed Hedon Alvric to an eternity consumed by Noir’s Blackflames as he tried hard to suppress the smile forming on his face. Hedon Alvric had done a number on Jerome. Jerome, the kid who was filled with so much awe for the things and people around him, had now put up a wall in his heart against privileged people.

Kilian sighed, “most likely,” was all he could say.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Not interested,”

“Ok, now it’s mandatory!” Kilian exclaimed, “Go get ready!” he said, pointing to the door with steady eyes trained on Jerome.

Jerome opened his mouth like he wanted to say something but quickly shut it up like a bear trap catching a mosquito.

~~~

Jerome stood outside Kilian’s palace waiting for his escort to the training ground. Abbott, the guard whom Jerome had a scuffle with a few days ago, walked out of the palace.

“I’ll be escorting you to your training disciple Jerome,” Abbott said with a straight face.

Jerome nodded and followed him. The walk was as silent as it was awkward, you could hear a pin drop from a dozen steps away. And the tension was so thick, you could cut it with a butter knife.

The sun had just come out so they both distracted themselves from the awkwardness with the beauty of the Vorthe Estate.

After a while, Abbott cleared his throat and said, “Disciple Jerome, I’m sorry about the other day,”

“It’s fine,” Jerome turned to look at him with a smile. “I also acted out of turn,”

“If you like, you could come around the guards’ room some time to play some games with us,” Abbott said.

Jerome smiled. “What about you give me some pointers about your insights as a Sprout when I come around?” he asked. Abbott was in his forties, but he might as well have been a twenty-year-old youth. So he was a more experienced Sprout than Jerome.

“Deal,” Abbott said. “We’re here.”

Before them lay a vast expanse of training ground, stretching out over two thousand square feet. It was a veritable training ground for physical prowess, boasting an obstacle course riddled with treacherous pitfalls, sparring rings drawn on the floor for hand-to-hand combat scattered around the training ground, and a towering rock wall equipped with ropes and footholds that seemed to taunt even the fearless climbers.

At the center of the training ground, some youths were gathered around two other youths who were sparring against each other. Jerome’s heart began to pound with excitement as he wanted to test his skills against these nobles to measure his strength.

Abbott noticed the change in Jerome and quickly said, “Be careful disciple Jerome, these guys are freaks of nature,”

“Really, how do you know this?” Jerome asked surprised.

“Us guards in the Royal Estate usually talk amongst each other,”

Jerome nodded silently. It made sense. They could share information with one another about the strengths of the elites in the palaces they guard.

“I’ll be on my way now,” Abbott said.

“Thank you, Abbott,” Jerome said as he left.

Jerome walked toward the crowd of Sprouts with large strides. As he got within thirty steps of the group, one of them looked at him and waved his hand in Jerome’s direction. A strong wave of golden energy shot out of his hand like a crescent-shaped blade.

Jerome was calm, however; he hadn’t expected to be readily accepted by them. The crescent-shaped energy blade suddenly transformed into a straight blade of energy pointing directly at him.

Jerome tilted his head a little to the right without missing a step, and the energy blade shot past his left cheek, raising long black strands of his hair. It dissipated thereafter as if it never existed.

~~~

He didn’t even flinch! Forester Vorthe exclaimed in his heart. He quickly regained his composure and spoke out, “You’re not welcome here.”

“I don’t wanna be here either,” Jerome responded in a cold and emotionless voice. He was quite impressed with the crescent blade. It was way more advanced than his blue flames—which he could shoot better now, thanks to hours of training with Rihal.

Everyone in the group turned to look at him as if to size him up. The way he spoke just now was like he was not someone just anyone could mess around with.

Looking at them, Jerome could tell they were all around his age. None of them looked much older than him, which came as a bit of a surprise. He had always thought he was the youngest in his Realm because of the events of Mhen Agrh’ur.

What Jerome didn’t know was that he was in fact the youngest in his Realm. And every one of the Royals around him was at least two years older than he was.

Jerome met their eyes one by one. Some of the mentally weak ones averted their gaze from his. But some others looked at him like they were seeing dinner.

Layla was among them, secretly signaling Jerome with a slight shake of her head.

“Peasant, this is not a gathering of your kind. Leave now or suffer the consequences,” Forester stated. His voice, equally as cold as Jerome’s.

“Make me,” Jerome said, looking him dead in the eyes.

Forester’s rage was kindled. He had heard of this kid before. The disciple of Senior Rihal, who was lucky enough to discover Adama’s gauntlets. Was that why he was stuck up in his little accomplishment?

Forester chuckled, “A toad in a pond thinking he’s seen the whole world!” he said mockingly. The crowd of over fifty Sprouts burst out laughing.

“As you wish. Who wants to teach the serf a lesson?”

Jerome stood there quietly. Studying their auras and their mannerisms. He turned a deaf ear to all the insults this kid was throwing at him. He seemed to be the leader of the group.

“I’ll spar with him,” someone finally stepped up.

This fellow was tall and as thick as a tree with muscular arms that looked like they could strangle the most powerful magic beasts in the world. But Jerome wasn’t convinced though. That was because the youth had a weak aura. He may be very strong physically but without the foundation of essence to match that strength, he’ll start running on fumes the moment he gets into a fight.

The crowd pathed for them and spread out around them. Jerome suddenly noticed that everyone was wearing white sparring robes – with no sleeves and baggy pants for the boys, while the girls wore theirs with wide sleeves. He was the only one in full leather armor.

And mine isn’t even white, he thought.

He stood out like a black dot on a white canvas.

“There’s only one rule…no killing,” Forester said.

That rule was for Jerome, and everyone knew it. If Jerome killed Aidan, the huge youth, he would be sentenced to death immediately.

That’s even if he could kill Aidan, Forester sneered in his heart.

If Aidan killed Jerome, no one would bat an eye.

“Begin!” shouted Forester.

Both combatants looked at each other for a split second before Aidan rushed at Jerome. The next moment he was sprawled on the floor, bleeding lightly from the side of his mouth.

Everyone looked at Jerome in amazement. It had happened too quickly some of the Sprouts didn’t even see what happened.

Jerome had waited for Aidan to get within three feet of him and launched himself forward really fast. Before the big guy knew what was going on, he was punched in the jaw and passed out instantly.

Jerome hadn’t used essence. The punch was just a physical punch. Everyone at the training grounds knew how strong Aidan was. When it came to physical strength, none of them was a match for him.

Aidan may not last long in a prolonged battle, but when it came to using overpowering strength to suppress an opponent quickly, Aidan was unbeatable in their Realm.

Now, however, someone new had toppled him.

“At least make it a challenge for me,” Jerome called out to the leader of the group. The wind picked up at that moment blowing Jerome’s long hair around him and giving him a heroic air.

Forester frowned and looked at someone else. Another guy walked into the circle and faced Jerome. The new guy shot forward and in a split second, he arrived in front of Jerome!

~~~

Idrienne had always been proud of his speed. That was the one thing that separated him from the rest of the Sprouts. It was his identity. But now someone else wanted to take it away from him.

With his body covered in golden light, he dashed towards Jerome, a dagger in both hands. Just as he swiped at Jerome’s head from the right, he missed by a few inches. He swiped at Jerome from the left with his other dagger but missed again.

Jerome only stepped back twice. The both of them began to dance around each other with Idrienne attacking and Jerome dodging all his moves while running around the training ground. At this point, they had left the enclosure made by the other Sprouts.

The other Sprouts couldn’t even follow them with their eyes. They could only hear the sound of their feet as they ran around. The only time Jerome and Idrienne came into view was when they stopped to run in another direction, and that was only a split-second view.

If you blinked, you missed them!

Who the hell is this guy? Idrienne thought, infuriated. But he had to admit, Jerome was faster than him. He was particularly good at turning sharp corners.

Idrienne decided to go all out. He put on a burst of speed and broke his limits, surprising even Jerome. But the moment he arrived beside Jerome, he saw Jerome’s lips curve upwards.

Not good! Idrienne thought.

He quickly shot backward, but Jerome’s figure flickered and arrived in front of him. Before he could react, Jerome knocked him out cold with a punch to the jaw.

The battle only lasted five breaths of time. Approximately twenty seconds!

Jerome bent down to make sure he didn’t do too much damage to the kid. His pulse and breathing were good. He stood up a few breaths later facing the leader.

“I’ll come back tomorrow. Make sure to prepare a good challenge,” he waved goodbye and walked away from the training ground.

The young elites of the Royal Family all stared at him as if they were seeing a monster.

~~~

“That was fun to watch.”

About a hundred feet up in the air, the Sovereign of Vorthe hovered mid-air, hidden in the void. He had watched as Jerome toyed with his challengers.

This will help these younglings stop overestimating themselves, he thought to himself. But Jerome however…

Just three nights ago the Sovereign tested his mental strength by having him do a mental scan on him.

How did he grow so fast in just three days? He thought. The Patriarch knew that the reason why Jerome was able to counter the speedy kid was not just because he was faster. It was because his perception had undergone a monumental advancement, making everything around him appear slow in his eyes.

His mind and eyes had become faster!

~~~

“What happened out there, Idrienne?” Forester asked.

They had come to their favorite pub, the Drunken Turtle, to grab some wine together. The pub was situated inside the Royal Estate so the youths didn’t need to go into the city of Farryn to have drinks with friends.

“I don’t know, Forester. That kid is faster than I am,” Idrienne said.

“I asked around about him,” Aidan said, “it seems he’s been injured for a while. Probably just got better,”

Idrienne gnashed his teeth till they hurt. Not only was he defeated in speed, but he was defeated by someone who just recovered.

“I talked to my pa about our fight. Know what he said?” Idrienne said through gritted teeth. The other Sprouts listened to hear what the former speedster had said, “Might maketh right.”

The young Sprouts looked away shame-faced. In their hearts, they knew the saying was wise, but their lofty egos wouldn’t let them accept defeat.

Soft music played on in the pub as the Young Lords came in one by one.

“Senior Idrel said he had a beef with Hedon Alvric,” Zayne Vorthe said as he took a seat at the table lifting a jug of wine to his lips. He had walked in not quite long ago.

“Alvric? That good for nothing?” Forester sneered with disdain.

“Calm down Forester. He might have some usefulness,” Idrel Vorthe said as he walked toward them.

All the Sprouts at the table quickly stood up to bow respectfully. “Welcome, Senior,” they all said.

Idrel looked around the table.

“Sit,” he ordered and took a chair himself. “Whoever can get rid of Rihal’s disciple for me gets to keep this,” he threw an item on the table causing all the Sprouts at the table to drop their jaws in shock.

It was a tiny crystal in a black leather pouch, extended from a string—a void bridge. The teleportation device used only by the Nediti!