He grinned, and squared his stance, watching as Hushar came barreling in, all strength and no technique. If the strike hit him, he would be knocked off his feet, but he did not intend for that to happen. Back in the body that he had worn for the majority of his life, Jonathan realized just how far beyond the norm his skills were. Most of the time when he was fighting he relied on his stats just as much as his Pathway skills, but now that he only had the latter, he appreciated just how powerful it was.

Hushar’s motions were mapped out in his vision, his subconscious picking apart the tiny adjustments of his muscles, and plotting a course. As the fist hurtled in towards his face, Jonathan acted. His legs collapsed under him, and he drew power from his knees, pistoning up as Hushar’s fist passed over him. His own fist slammed into the Uthraki’s jaw with full force, stunning him. Even with all of his strength, Jonathan had done little but knock his opponent off balance for a bit. In this sort of arena, he was the underdog, and Hushar was the prodigy. It was certainly different than usual.

At once, he appreciated the intellect of Arkanon, honed over centuries of use. He had done this purposefully, both to hone their skills, and to allow Hushar to get over his feeling of powerlessness by letting him temporarily be superior to the man whom he felt overshadowed by.

Jonathan withdrew, and focused, trying to draw on more and more of his expertise. It was hard to eke out the full scope of his pathway skills with his meager stats, but it was possible. His eyes narrowed, and his muscles twitched as he sunk into an instinctive stance. It was time to improve himself.

A few hours later, both men lay panting on the floor of the room, their stamina having given out. They were both highly trained and used to exercise, but their bodies had eventually given out. Hushar’s because of his bulk, and Jonathan’s because a human was only so strong in their base state.

However, the gains were immense. Using his skills in such a way had allowed him to tie them into his bodily functions, as he had been unable to fall back upon his massive store of stamina to get him through the fight. He pulled up his notifications, grinning broadly.

You have reached Journeyman Rank 8 with Blunt Weapon Mastery!

He was only two levels away from Expert Rank, and the massive boost to power that would bring. He couldn’t wait to form a weapon domain of his own.

He eventually rose to his feet, and almost fell over, coughing up blood. He stumbled, and looked around himself in dismay. Had he been tricked by Arkanon? Then he realized that he had overtaxed his body by channeling such advanced forms of mastery through it. As if to confirm this, Arkanon walked in, smiling.

“You have discovered the hidden dangers of this sport of training. A mortal body is not meant to channel any sort of Pathway Skill above Apprentice. That is why doing so is so beneficial to training.”

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“It certainly works, but I feel like I was tenderized,” Jonathan complained.

“I agree,” Hushar groaned from the ground, his body in even worse shape because of his larger musculature. Jonathan could only imagine having to deal with the pain from that bulk. He was a large man himself, but Hushar was far larger than any human.

“You need to keep using this room until you reach Expert Rank at least,” Arkanon continued. “Otherwise, you will lose.”

“I defeated an Expert Rank without being one myself,” Jonathan countered.

“Slothari will not have basic Expert Ranks in her service,” Arkanon warned. “Whoever you fought likely was at the lower end, or else you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Probably. He was a few dozen levels above me at the time.”

“Stats can do wonders for fighting up levels, but eventually, technique will be more important.”

“I agree. That is the only reason I’ll go through this torture again,” Jonathan answered. In truth, the pain wasn’t that bad. It was the feeling of powerlessness that was really galling.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Arkanon replied. He snapped his fingers, and doors slid out of the archway, closing off the room. Then he opened a rift in space, and stepped through. “You will stay in here until you reach Expert Rank,” was the last thing he said.

Jonathan tried to get to the rift in time, but in his current state, he was far too slow. It was like inhabiting the body of a snail. He sighed, and shook his head.

“I guess we only have one thing to do then,” he said to Hushar. The bulky Uthraki let out a groan.

In Mire

Edgar smiled as the wind whipped through his hair. He flew upon wings of wind across the skies of the putrescent realm, heading out towards its rim. There were few flying monsters present in Mire, as most preferred to lurk in the filth of the bogs.

He had left the Rot-Trunk Copses behind hours ago, but the size of the realm just continued to increase. He had to say, the vista below him was hardly the most appealing of sights. The Spillway appeared nothing more than an ocean of filth, slicks of oil covering patches of sewage and waste. Factories squatted upon the trash and waste, processing it for some unknown purpose. There were few inhabitants of this circle of Mire, as the prospects were hardly appealing. Those that did live there were all half mad from breathing in the fumes. It was not an ideal place for Edgar to carry out his task. His sights lay further afield.

Below him, clouds scudded across the sky, tinted brown with filth. They provided the only break in the lake of foulness that made up the rest of the Spillway. Edgar wondered how it had gotten like this. It hardly seemed like something that would be a natural occurrence. It must have been a conscious decision.

Acid rain poured down over the dark waters of the land, adding to the miasma drifting from its surface. It was a uniquely foul place, and for the first time in a while, Edgar found himself preferring the Ash Heaps. It might have been an arid desert, but at least the air hadn’t been a soup of bacteria and rot. With his enhanced senses, Edgar was actually suffering a small amount of damage from the smell.

Eventually, he cleared the Spillway, and let out a sigh of relief. The Waste Warrens were his ultimate goal. While their population was small compared to the Fetid Plains, it was far more powerful on average, and less aligned with Slothari, who rarely left her seat of power.