Kyle woke with a yawn, stretching as he stood. Without sunlight it was easy to lose track of time, though C.H.A.D.D. cheerfully reminded him of the time they’d spent in the cave system doing this training regimen. Four weeks already Kyle mused, still astonished at how fast it had all flown by. His level had climbed to 59 through the weeks of practice, and he’d fallen into a comfortable rhythm. Completing his stretches, he picked C.H.A.D.D. up to go drink some fresh water and clean up, chewing overcooked beetle meat as he walked. The drone had proved invaluable over the course of the first two weeks, keeping Kyle apprised of the Infernal’s movements.
The mutated creature had tried to get close a couple of times, but after a particularly close call when Kyle nearly smashed its legs, it seemed to understand that walking into an open chamber would be a death sentence. Since then, it had kept to the narrower tunnels. Kyle had wondered if it would starve to death back there, but from what C.H.A.D.D. could tell it was still in fine condition.
The drone had continued to scan the creature since they’d been in the cavern, and from what it could tell, the Infernal hadn’t experienced any meaningful changes since they’d encountered it. By contrast, the changes Kyle had gone through were noticeable – significantly improved mana control chief among them. The scans had revealed something interesting though, and Kyle had been eager to test his hypothesis. For some reason, C.H.A.D.D. wasn’t able to get detailed scans of the creature’s abdomen. Something about the chitin there prevented mana from penetrating as effectively, and if it could limit C.H.A.D.D.’s sensors it just might be able to act as a filter for some of the ambient mana that was causing gradual wear and tear on his companion.
After cleaning up, Kyle got to work on his morning routines, C.H.A.D.D. gleefully providing commentary.
[YOUR SHOULDERS ARE TOO TENSE; YOU HAVE TO RELAX. SLOW IS SMOOTH, SMOOTH IS FAST.]
The drone had been using Frank’s voice more and more often, and Kyle had to admit it was calming. The old man was a great teacher, patient and clear with his instruction. Frank was more lenient in some ways than Amalia or Garth, but the simple and functional advice helped center Kyle in a way the more technical criticism didn’t.
Even though he wasn’t training much more than while he was in Albaum, Kyle found that he was getting less and less distracted by the thoughts of what came next. Kyle had reflected on C.H.A.D.D.’s words after they entered the tunnel, and he knew the drone was right. Ever since meeting Garth and the others from Duilleag, he had jumped at the opportunity to feel useful to the people around him. He’d wanted so badly to be accepted, for things to go back to normal. “Normal” is dead. The desire to help people still burned in his chest, but as he’d processed the recent events he’d come to a simple, clear conclusion. He was too weak to make a difference.
If he had been stronger, the upgraded firearms wouldn’t have made a difference. He could have strolled out of Duilleag casually, unthreatened by Cornelius, Valentine, or anybody else. He thought about his grandfather, staring fate in the eye as he watched the world about to end, spitting in its face to save a grandson that by all rights should have died. That was the kind of power Kyle wanted. The kind of power he needed. But to get there, he’d need to build a foundation. Brick by brick, one step at a time. This cave provided the perfect circumstances to allow him to accomplish exactly that.
He'd had to pause twice during his training to deal with small groups of beetles that made their way into the cave system, which he dispatched with ease. Each day a handful of the creatures would appear in the caverns, moving towards the tunnels the Infernal was resting in. Kyle wasn’t sure what was drawing them, but they proved to be a steady source of food. He just wished that he could figure out a better way to cook them outside of letting them get scorched by the oversized ground beetle.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
After all this time eating them, he still wasn’t used to the taste of burnt beetle meat. He sighed as he moved the two charred beetle carcasses to the side of the larger chamber, set aside for the night’s dinner. That done, he started the hardest part of the evening’s training.
[YOUR MANA IS MOVING IN PULSES, DR. MAYHEW.]
Kyle opened his eyes as he sat on the floor, brow dripping with sweat. The drone’s comment broke his concentration, and he reached to grab a drink from his canteen. The last couple week’s training had borne fruit. With conscious effort, he was now able to prevent the mana inside his body from pulsing out like it had been. While in that state, however, he wasn’t able to use any of his skills. The way the mana moved when he activated them was just too difficult to control with the level of precision he needed.
This was only half of the equation, and like he’d thought before, the rest was found in his practice controlling HASTE. He wasn’t as keenly aware when he had started that training, but now he noticed that his mana flowed differently when the skill was active. Instead of moving in cadence with the pulses of the energy in the atmosphere, it surged through his body like water breaking through a floodgate, where he only controlled how far the gate was open. At closer inspection, each of his skills caused his mana to move differently. HEAL caused a gentle circulation of localized mana, and REGENERATION moved the mana in a continuous wave through his pathways.
Kyle spent hours in meditation each day focusing on these subtle changes through the use of his skills, and then attempting to replicate the movements with the mana that normally moved in his body. At first it felt like he was trying to change the flow of a river running through him, but the more he meditated on it, the more he found that impression incorrect. There was an inertia to the energy – but the fact that his Skills were able to make changes told him there was more to it.
The first breakthrough happened when he activated REGENERATION when he was meditating and focusing on his center. He saw the shift flow out from his mental impression of the skill, and observed the wave moving around his body from there. After experimentation, he found that his center was the key to all of it – though understanding that and applying it were two different challenges altogether.
“How long before the pulses came back, C.H.A.D.D.?” Kyle asked, lowering the canteen from his mouth.
[NEARLY AN HOUR, DR. MAYHEW.]
It was his best result so far, nearly twice as long as what he had been able to do a week ago. Unfortunately, he’d hit the point of severely diminishing returns. The last several days saw some improvement, but it was marginal. Kyle wasn’t completely satisfied with his progress, as he still wasn’t able to apply the principle to adjust the function of his Skills.
Part of him wanted to continue to refine these skills farther, but at this point he was starting to grow restless. A month inside the cave was a lot, and he missed seeing the stars. Coming to a decision, he turned to his companion.
“Do you think we’re ready to try again?”
[ALMOST CERTAINLY, DR. MAYHEW. PROBABLY. POSSIBLY.]
“That doesn’t give me much confidence, C.H.A.D.D.”
[WERE YOU ASKING ME TO GIVE YOU CONFIDENCE OR ASKING ME FOR AN OBJECTIVE ASSESSMENT?]
“Fair point. Either way, I think I’ve learned about as much as I can training like we have been. I’m taking a shot at it tomorrow morning.”
The other thing causing Kyle to grow restless was his memory of the feelings he’d experienced when he’d encountered the fly. He had a similar impression of the Infernal, and he knew that this creature was somehow connected to what had happened not only to him, but to the planet as a whole. He shuddered as he thought about the presence from his dream, and the changes to his body. Whatever had happened had cost him his family, his friends, his life. It was on the cusp of costing him his humanity. He knew the answers to his questions likely wouldn’t be easy ones, but they were answers he needed nonetheless. He grabbed a burned beetle leg and bit down on it as the acrid taste filled his mouth. Tomorrow, the Infernal would die.