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, he 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 shouted back.
“Keep it down!”
He’d almost forgotten he had no door to muffle the sound of his voice.
The essence that kindled the fire is undetectable! He was 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 Suzie 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!
In the throes of excitement, he went searching for Rihal but couldn’t find him. He finally heard from Kilian that Rihal had gone on a mission and wouldn’t be back till the next evening.
“You’re in a good mood. Care to share?” Kilian asked, gesturing to the visitor’s seat in his study..
Even if he could hide his excitement from others, he couldn’t hide it from a Spirit Realm artist — not that he wanted to. Jerome had made so much progress in the past four moons that he wanted to scream about it at the top of his lungs. His physique was better, and his vitality was stronger, and Rihal had reported that his knee was better.
Jerome sat down, cycling to calm his nerves.
“First of all, I’d like to thank you for accepting me into your home. I know it wouldn’t have been an easy decision you made to accept one such as me; one who’s destined for—”
“We hope it never comes to that, Jerome,” Kilian said with a smile, his regal bearing back in place. “I can tell you’ve made giant strides in your recovery in the past four moons.”
“Hmm. It’s all thanks to the fact that my core was already in good condition before I awoke from my slumber at the bottom of the river in Blade’s Edge Canyon.”
“A mystery that would remain a mystery from the looks of it,” Kilian said. “Do you still don’t remember anything from after the fight?”
Jerome shook his head in thought. If he did, he would mention it. After the fight with Hedon started, everything just became a blur. The one thing he knew was that he died, and that was because of the scar still on his chest. Jerome touched his facial scars absently. They were bold and loud, screaming for all the world to hear that he survived a hellish experience.
“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, the excitement back in his eyes.
“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 brows rose in surprise.
“I didn’t sense you rotating your core to direct essence to your palm.”
Jerome grinned. It happened as though the fire was created by a flint, he was sure.
It wasn’t over though. Less than half a breath later the flame visibly became transparent, and then it completely disappeared. The only evidence of the flame on Jerome’s palm was the warping of space on his palm, in the area occupied by the flame. Other than that, there was no evidence of a flame on his palm.
“That’s quite impressive,” Kilian said with a smile. “You may need someone more skilled with mental energy to practice with though. I’m but a scholar and as such, my mental fortitude cannot be compared to someone like Rihal. If I were Rihal though, you wouldn’t have been able to block out my senses.”
“You mean you can’t sense the flame?” Jerome asked, eyes going wide. He hadn’t given it much thought before showing the lord of the palace his skill. That he can hide from someone like Kilian was cause for a secret celebration. He just hoped Kilian wouldn’t look at things the wrong way.
Kilian shook his head with a bashful smile. He still managed to maintain his composure and regal bearing though. “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 put out the flame and looked questioningly at him. Hesitation was written on his face, he knew. The only Sprout he knew among the Royals was Layla, and from what little he knew of her, 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 Black Flames’ as he tried hard to suppress the smile forming on his face. Jerome had never heard him curse before and the curses that came out of the royal’s mouth left him wide-eyed.
“Who the hell’s Noir?” he muttered absently.
Kilian sighed. “Most likely they are.” He calmed a little before looking him in the eyes and saying. “But I remember when you first came to the estate, Jerome. You were the innocent boy who was filled with so much awe for the things and people around him, and now you’ve put up a wall in your heart against privileged people.” He sighed again.
“I’m not that child anymore, Lord Kilian,” Jerome said solemnly. “And I’m not interested in training with the royals.”
Kilian’s presence blanketed the study in an instant. It wasn’t enough to cripple him, but Jerome still felt it hinder him greatly. Kilian smacked his tabletop with his palms, standing up.
“Ok, now it’s mandatory! 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. He couldn’t for the like of him figure out how Kilian switched moods like a pregnant young lady. He quickly left to prepare for the training with the Royals before another outburst from the lord of the Palace.
A while later, 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’ quarters 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. Why did he think he wouldn’t want to train with these Royals in the first place? Though they may be haughty and proud, he’d do his best not to get a repeat of Hedon.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
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 light pointing directly at him. He tilted his head a little to the right without missing a step, and the blade of light shot past his left cheek, raising long black strands of his hair. It dissipated thereafter as if it never existed.
Jerome saw a flash of surprise on the Sprout’s face but 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. He had spoken like he was not someone just anyone could mess around with. He had to, lest they try to subdue him. It was better to show that he was no pussy early on. And even knock a few heads together. He wasn’t going to be looked down on, not even by the Royals.
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. Or maybe they were all older and just looked very young.
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 him with a slight shake of her head.
“Peasant, this is not a gathering of your kind. Leave now or suffer the consequences,” the douchebag who attacked him stated. His voice, equally as cold as Jerome’s.
“Make me,” Jerome said, looking him dead in the eyes.
The Sprout’s rage was kindled and the muscles in his jaw ticked — a tell then.
“I have heard of you before, disciple of Senior Rihal. You were lucky enough to discover Adama’s gauntlets. Is that why your balls are inflated nearly to bursting?”
The Sprouts snickered lightly in amusement. Jerome scoffed. He had almost forgotten that kids like these would have razor blades for tongues. If it was a battle of words he couldn’t win so he didn’t bother fighting. He just stood there and let his smirk taunt the other Sprout.
The Sprout in question 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 mannerisms. He turned a deaf ear to all the insults this Sprout threw at him. He seemed to be the leader of the group. So that was expected. Perhaps he could dethrone him and let the rest figure out their shit.
“I’ll spar with him,” someone finally stepped up.
This fellow was tall and was 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; the youth had a weak aura. He looked very strong physically but without the foundation of essence to match that strength, he’d start running on fumes the moment he got 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 a leather-stitched robe.
And mine isn’t even white, he thought.
He stood out like a red dot on a white canvas. His initiate robe was the color of blood. Why Vorthe chose that exact shade, he wouldn’t know.
“My name is Forester Vorthe, peasant. Remember it when you take your walk of shame,” Douchebag said. “There’s only one rule…no killing.”
That rule was for Jerome alone. He knew it and everyone knew it. If he killed the huge youth, he would be sentenced to death immediately. Not that they could kill him. But the Sovereign probably would. But if the big guy killed him, no one would bat an eye.
“Give each other a bow!” Douchebag shouted.
Both combatants looked at each other for a split second before bowing — Jerome, not so low but the big guy just nodded his head at him. So much for propriety.
The big guy charged Jerome at once. He came in fast. The next moment though, he was sprawled on the floor, bleeding lightly from the side of his mouth.
~~~
Idrienne Vorthe
Everyone looked at the young Sprout in amazement. It had happened too quickly; some of the Sprouts didn’t even see what happened, he was sure. Senior Rihal’s disciple 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.
The new guy hadn’t even 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. Someone who wasn’t as big or as tall. Idrienne studied him. His scarred face gave him a tough looking appearance. As though he had gone through a really great ordeal.
“At least make it a challenge for me,” the new guy called out to Forester. The wind picked up at that moment blowing his long hair around him and giving him a heroic air.
Forester frowned and looked directly at him. Even before Forester looked his way, Idrienne was already itching to fight the brat. He walked into the circle and faced the new guy. Jerome was his name, wasn’t it? A lucky guy that popped his nuts but miraculously came back from the dead. Idrienne shot forward, ignoring customs, and in a split moment, 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. His badge of honor. But new challenges were long overdue and there was one right in front of him.
With his body covered in golden light, he dashed towards Jerome, a blunt-edged dagger in both hands. Just as he swiped at Jerome’s head from the right, he missed by a few inches. He swiped at him from the left with his other dagger but missed again.
Jerome had only stepped back twice. Idrienne’s excitement peaked at that realization. The new brat wouldn’t let him down! 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 who had had to skitter away so as not to get hit.
The other Sprouts couldn’t even follow them with their eyes. The only time they would have come into view was when they stopped to run in another direction, and that was only a split-moment view. If you blinked, you missed them!
Idrienne’s excitement overflowed and he burst out in laughter, enjoying the thrill of the moment. But he soon realized that Jerome wasn’t attacking, just running around while he did all the chasing. The cunt wasn’t taking him seriously! Well, time to do some damage.
He sped up his attacks and his arms literally started looking like they disappeared with every move. But the brat was able to keep up with him, Sometimes dodging and sometimes blocking his attacks. Attacks that were too fast for most Sprouts to see. Idrienne noticed he wore red gloves that he used to smack the blade of his knife every time it got too close. But he hadn’t seen him put it on. And the gloves had a metallic sheen to them.
So an artifact then, he thought. He would have loved to get a good look at it but he didn’t want to stop the fight.
He attacked with a combo of fifteen blows, going for the neck, heart, and gut. His attack was canceled almost immediately and Jerome halted in his steps, long enough to throw a punch at him. Idrienne quickly bent his body to the side. He had been moving so fast, it was almost impossible to stop as he was. Jerome’s elbow came down on him next without missing a beat. The younger Sprout had a good command of his body movement. But he was the fastest here.
Idrienne spun on his heels, dodging the elbow and thrust his knife into his opponent’s side but Jerome spun as well and even almost smacked him in the face. The next moment the chase began again. Idrienne’s frustration bubble up in him.
Who the hell is this guy? he thought, infuriated. But he had to admit, Jerome was as fast as he was. He’d be damned if he admitted the brat was faster. But 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 everyone. The gasp that sounded around him was confirmation enough. He was amongst the few that had a very powerful core that could hold enough essence for such speeds.
The moment he arrived beside Jerome though, he saw his lips curve upwards.
Not good! Idrienne thought as alarm bells rang in his head.
He quickly shot backward, but Jerome’s figure flickered and arrived in front of him. Before he could react, Jerome knocked his lights out with a punch to the jaw. All he saw coming was a fist and then darkness.
~~~
Jerome bent down to make sure he didn’t do too much damage to the Sprout. His pulse and breathing were good. By all accounts, this was his most exciting fight so far. He never knew he had become so fast. He could still feel the essence pumping through his channels — channels that had been made stronger and could now withstand a lot more strain. His heartbeat sang in his ears, his body excited and ready for more victories.
But his mental energy was what helped him the most in this fight. Jerome couldn’t explain it — not even to himself. Every time he had deflected the blade, or turned a sharp corner, he had used a bit of mental energy to assist himself with the action. It had also made his focus sharper.
He stood up a few breaths later facing the leader.
“I’ll come back tomorrow, Forester.”
“That’s young master Forester to you!” Forester the Douchebag growled.
“Young master Forester,” Jerome said with a slight bow, not wanting to enrage the Sprout. “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. Their eyes on him were intense but he sensed their awe more than he did, their anger.
~~~
Yun Vorthe
“That was fun to watch.”
About a hundred feet up in the air, he hovered mid-air, hidden in a cavity in space. 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, Yun 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. Yun knew that the reason why Jerome was able to counter the speedster 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.