Cross-legged, Alicia sits. From her base to her head and reaching out towards the ceiling of the training room, streams of energy spirals the girl.

Eyes closed, hand reaching out, she draws a portion of the energy towards her fingers. Her breathing rhythmic, her heart steady; the twirling forces begin to permeate her body.

The ambient Tension mixes with her own internal energies; it morphs beyond what it once was, moving from wild to tame, free to hers. The Tension submerging the tips of Alicia's fingers change form; they shift from ethereal to fluid, translucent to emerald. Alicia's breathing deepens; her face contorts, the strain of maintaining the Art written deep into her expression.

The liquid engulfing the tips of her fingers begins to squirm. Tendrils worm their way from its surface, distorting the otherwise spherical shape. Teeth gritted, Alicia strains to control the Art. Her battle lost, from her pinky to her thumb, each orb of emerald liquid bursts one after the other, and the girl falls onto her back.

'I can't do it!' Her chest, rising and falling in harmony with her staggered breathing, Alicia lies face-up on the wooden floor.

With each step, I walk closer to the girl. Standing over her, I reach down my hand for her to take. She looks up at me, her hand moving towards mine. As if waging a battle from within, she hesitates, suspending her hand inches from my own. Sucking air through her parted lips, Alicia completes her motion, taking my downward reaching hand into her own. Without effort, I pull the girl to her feet.

'What am I doing wrong? I'm breathing just like you taught me. I'm circulating Tension through my blood and converting it with my attributes; I'm certain that not a single runic pathway is undeveloped. Why can't I learn this Art?'

Tears moisten Alicia's eyes. With the sleeve of her robe, she puts an end to her tears encroachment.

'In under one week, you have converted Tension into Acid. Your progress can already be considered remarkable.' No lie passes my lips; the girl's talent for acidic Arts truly is remarkable. To perfect the breathing techniques necessary to channel Tension into runic pathways is no easy feat; if it were, Arts would be far more simple to master.

In order to cast an Art, one must have the aptitude for the specific technique, along with the knowledge to forge the correct formulae with the Tension they control. If a Tension Master fails to maintain the correct pathways, the Art will fail.

Common Arts are one thing; the runes to generate them are simple, and intuitive. Many Tension Masters come to learn the common Arts without having ever been taught. Elemental Arts are a different matter altogether. The runic pathways are complex and volatile; as if searching for a reason to fail, with any provocation, the formula necessarily to cast them will deteriorate.

For the girl to have made such strides in learning a new elemental Art in such a short amount of time, It would be no exaggeration to call her remarkable.

It may have taken me a matter of hours to perfect the Art, but such things cannot be compared. After all, I tore everything I needed to quickly develop my technique straight from the screaming body of the one who taught me.

'Do you expect my Clan's prized technique to be so easy to master that in so little time you would have it perfect? Perhaps you believe yourself to be more talented than the blessed matriarch herself? Is that not what you are claiming with your complaints?' Careful to release just enough venom in my words to shame the girl without causing her to grow defensive, I allow my rebuke to sink in.

'I… I'm sorry. Of course, it should be challenging to learn something of worth. I meant no disrespect. It's just.' Eyes downcast, Alicia halts her speech. Her fingers close into a fist, and drops of blood fall from her lip, pitting softly on the wooden floor.

'It's just… I've never been useful, not to anyone. This Clan took me in; my father raised me as his own daughter, and I've never been able to do anything for them. I'm too weak. I… I don't want to be weak anymore.'

She really is a fool.

'I understand how you feel, but you need to be patient. We are the new foundations of this Clan, and for this Clan to be strong, the foundations must be strong-'

'That's the very problem!' The girl says, cutting my words short.

'Before you can strengthen your body, you must strengthen your mind.' Father's words drilled into me from the first day he took me into the Towers. The man is a tyrant, cruel as the day is long, but his strength is undeniable. Even with one thousand years of cultivation, I may never reach his heights…

Stop!

I will not only reach his strength, but I will also surpass it. Before long, even Father will need to strain his neck to see the heights that I reach.

'Sit.' Placing a hand on Alicia's shoulder and another on her stomach, I guide her back to the ground. 'Close your eyes and practice your breathing.'

Complying, the girl begins to moderate her breathing. With each inhalation, I feel Tension seep into her blood. Drawing from her attributes, the Tension starts to change form.

'Form the pathways' Taking a deep breath, Alicia brings in more of the ambient energy; with it, she begins to carve runes within her blood.

Eyes closed, I monitor the symbols etched into her blood'; they fluctuate, popping in and out of being. Taking dominion over the energy within her, I reinforce the runes, preventing their deterioration. Unhanding her stomach, I walk behind the girl, crouch once again, and place my palm on the square of her back.

'What are you-'

'Focus on this feeling. Once maintaining these pathways becomes natural to you, casting Acid bullets will become a matter of simply energising your blood with Tension. You won't have to think about it, it'll become as intuitive as enhancements.'

'That's not the-' With a hiss of my mouth, I silence the girl.

'Okay, channel Tension to your fingers.' Following my instructions, Alicia stretches out her right arm and draws energy to the tip of her every finger. The Tension transforms, taking a liquid state. From the centre of each sphere, the fluid dyes green until the colour dominates the entire ball.

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'Now!' I shout. Alicia flicks her wrist, sending five orbs of liquid towards a wooden slate held between two posts in front of her. The Art strikes true; smoke begins to stream from five points on the board as, slowly, the wood erodes.

Looking at her work, Alicia jumps to her feet. She turns to face me, mouth agape. Her shock becomes a grin, and without warning, she throws her arms around me in an embrace before releasing her hold and directing her eyes to my bare feet.

'I'm… I'm sorry.'

'It isn't a problem.' Unless it's indicative of some growing affinity you might feel is between us, then it's very much a problem. Conducting my work while training you this past week has already tried my patients.

A swoosh from behind captures my attention. Turning, I see a boy, no older than eighteen, walk through the sliding doors into the training room. His hair is, as the majority of the Blackshire Clansmen, brown. His height, parallel to that of my current form and inches above my original. Dressed in a robe donning the dark, circular symbol of the Blackshire Clan, the boy treads the wooden ground in a straight line towards Alicia and me. Entering the room behind him, two similarly dressed boys of his age. They increase their pace until they walk on both sides of the brown-haired boy.

With his entourage by his side, the brown-haired boy stands before me. From my eyes to my feet, the boy examines me. As if finding me wanting, he subtlety shakes his head.

'Even with the particularly short rod that I use to judge those from your little Clan, you still somehow fail to measure up.'

'Rufus!' Alicia says while grabbing the brown-haired boys arm. 'Apologise to lord Mohan!' With a pull of his Arm, the boy, Rufus, I suppose, dislodges Alicia's grip on him.

'Apologise for what? For telling the truth? Did your father fail to teach you the righteous principles of the Blackshire Clan? I know that cannot be the case. Honesty and integrity; I won't discard our ways for the sake of some opportunistic leech, looking to taint the purity of our bloodline with his dishonourable seed.'

So he's jealous?

No doubt he wants Alicia for himself, but the elders considered her to be best used in securing the resources of another Clan.

'Why don't you prove your worth, little man? Face me in a duel. If you win, I will give you my portion of body-refinement potions for the entire month. If, however, I stand victorious, you will renounce your Claim on Alicia, leave and return to the rat hole that you crawled your way up from.'

I begin to chuckle; his words are too ludicrous for me not to. Before I leave, I'll have all the body-refinement potions that I can carry, along with any other treasure I happen to come across. For what reason would I accept his challenge?

Pride?

What good is pride when compared to benefits? The benefits to be gained in accepting his challenge are few to none.

However…

Cupping my fist in the palm of my hand, bow. 'I must decline your challenge. I cannot place the future of our Clans on my pride.' Sans further word, I move towards the exit of the training room.

'Logan Mohan! Are you not man enough to face me?' Pausing my escape, I return my gaze to Rufus.

'I invite you to direct all questions regarding my manhood to my future wife.' Red paints the face of the boy as Tension spirals around him.

'You piece of shit! I'll kill you!' Channelling the energy surrounding him into two spears of water, Rufus takes aim.

With a wave of my hand, I gather Tension to the tips of my fingers. Forming internal pathways within my blood, I transform the orbs of energy into acid. With a thought, all five spheres shoot towards Rufus faster than he is able to release his own Art.

The boy leaps from the path of my attack, avoiding the blow, but dispelling his Art in the process.

I give him no reprieve. Waving both hands, I direct ten acidic orbs his way.

'Help me, you fools!' At their leader's words, the two boys that had followed Rufus into the training room conjure barriers of translucent energy, intercepting the acid heading for their leader. Though, on contact, the acid begins to melt through the barriers; they protect Rufus long enough for him to regain his footing.

Just as planned…

Before any one of my three opponents has the chance to form new Arts, I attack them with more orbs of acid. Careful with my aim, the spheres graze the three, carving ugly but non-fatal wounds across the skin of their arms, legs, and cheeks.

'You son of a whore! I'll make sure you never leave this place alive!' Holding out his hand, Rufus conjures a snow-white staff bearing a luminous, blue crystal at the head. His two stooges mimic his action and summon staves of their own, though from the sight of them, staves of lesser quality. Tension rushes into the three weapons. My breath begins to steam as the temperature of the room plummets.

Despite the power radiating from the staves, their united killing intent, and my inability to fight with my full strength without betraying my stolen identity, I can't stop myself from smiling.

The fool played right into my hands.

'Rufus, Jasper, Esau! What do you think you're doing?' From the exit of the room, a voice booms.

'Father!' Alicia and Rufus say together, as two men- and a young woman enters the room.

Moving at speeds beyond my enhanced eyes' ability to track, Rufus' father dashes towards his son; he grips his son's staff with a hand, and it shatters, disintegrating into a fine mist. His arms blur- and the staves of his son's accomplices follow suit and fill the air with a frosty vapour.

'Is it not dishonourable enough that the three of you attacked one man that you felt the need to heap shame upon shame and summon our Clan's frostmoon staff against an opponent without killing intent?'

'Father!'

'Silence!' Bringing all to our knees with his oppressive rank-five aura, Rufus' father slowly shakes his head while looking at his son. He walks towards me, retracts his suffocating presence, and helps me to my feet.

'You must forgive me, Master Mohan. A child's mistake is ultimately the wrongdoing of his parent.'

'There's nothing to forgive, my lord. Your son and I were simply exchanging pointers.' Biting the inside of my lip, I maintain a straight face while I look the powerful Tension Master in the eye.

'I appreciate your attempt to protect the honour of your future Clansmen, but I witnessed everything.'

I know.

He hid it well, but not as well as Father. Though only faint, and I couldn't determine his rank, I could perceive his watchful gaze.

'You must allow me to compensate you for the troubles my son has caused.'

Yes!

'Please, I cannot possibly accept-'

'You must!' The man says. 'It is the only way to restore my son's honour.' Returning to my knees, I lower myself until my forehead touches the cold of the wood-panelled floor.

'My lord, if it isn't too much of an imposition. I would request that I be moved from the third manor to the main fortress of this stronghold; I believe doing so, even before my wedding to Alicia, would work as a sign to both our Clans that our unity is not simply one of words, but of truth and mutual respect.' A low hum vibrates above me. With my face towards the ground, I can't see the elder before me, but I know my words have not fallen upon deaf ears.

'You have shown great wisdom with your request; it will not be denied. From this day onwards, both you and your wife will have a place within Blackshire Fortress. I will also provide to you enough body-refinement potions to break through into the third-grade of your rank-three cultivation.'

I've done it!

I've more than done it! By far, my expectations have been greatly exceeded.

Once I discovered that one of my wedding's detractors is the son of an elder, it became a matter of manipulating him into a confrontation and ensuring his father was there to witness it. Instigating the dispute was the easy part. I may not have known that his ire was born of jealousy, but I knew enough to know that he would take any opportunity to see me humiliated. All I had to do was ensure he had the chance. Spreading word of the time and place he could find me unguarded was all it required to bring him where I meant him to be.

Luring the elder was a more difficult task, but I was given every tool to do so on my first day here. After all, is not the discovery of a peerless genius among the daughters in his Clan worth seeing for himself? What does it matter if I made her such a genius by transferring the remnants of the original Logan Mohan's essence into her being?

All he needed to know is that a girl he had considered as little more than a womb managed to learn within one week, a technique it should have taken her months, if not years to grasp.

As for the spirit poisoning, she'll no doubt suffer, and the death that will follow…

He has no need for that knowledge.