When he headed home that night, Gust spent as much time as he could bear in the center of his room meditating.

As long as his eyes were closed, he could ignore the fact that the world around him appeared about as well-defined as a child’s water painting. Glasses weren’t unheard of in this world, but they were rare and, in a school of mages, entirely unneeded.

Every advancement in cultivation would yield an improvement to Gust’s senses. That didn’t only mean vision, but also hearing, touch, taste, and even something called mana sense he’d heard other students mention. By the time they reached Pathway Establishment, even a man born legally blind could count the leaves on a tree a quarter mile away.

As if magical powers weren’t enough, Gust found himself more motivated than ever. What would it be like to see as well as everyone else? Unaided. Lasik surgery might have corrected his vision back in his world, but it was expensive. Gust accepted long ago that glasses would be a permanent fixture in his life.

Now that they were gone, he clung to cultivation as his only hope.

By now, he could spend a minute cultivating for every minute resting. Every few cycles, he took a break to throw stones at his earthy target, but his blurred vision made the game hard to enjoy.

As he continued to cultivate, the strange feeling in Gust’s abdomen became more distinct. Mana was gathering there, but it had nothing to latch onto. There was, however, an empty space where the energy could collect and wait.

Some of it dissipated naturally, slowly, unlike the chunk that vanished when Isaac struck him in the gut. The entire reservoir would disappear completely if Gust wasn’t diligent in his cultivation. Luckily for him, he had nothing better to do, and no friends to do anything with.

The daily, physical labor should have slowly hardened his body, but Gust noticed that he was growing weaker and not stronger. Such was the weakening effect, the ‘withering away’ that Ephraim warned him about.

Gust already couldn’t protect himself. If the other students knew that he was just getting weaker, what they would do? If he kept getting worse, Isaac wouldn’t be the only student who thought he deserved Gust’s coin. The target on his back would only grow.

Perhaps Gust was doomed to die in this world, after all. Such a looming fate was never far from his mind.

As he tried to sleep, Gust thought of his family, and what they would make of the situation he left behind. Thinking of his mother’s broken heart spurned him on to reach a level of power such that no one could ever stop him from returning home.

If only power were as simple as determination.

Instead, by the time Gust reached his first day of class, he had barely noticed any progress. It was on the tenth day of the week that Theo told him to head to a grassy square instead of his usual post. The ninth was Locke’s class day, so Gust only had to clean half of the courtyard. Today, they traded places.

Gust found the small clearing in the northeastern quarter, where a few dozen students sat in a position that Gust found familiar, if slightly more complex than his own.

Master Ephraim was walking around the group in slow circles, occasionally kneeling to whisper personalized advice. He nodded silently as Gust found an open place to sit.

At first, Gust only watched. He’d seen students cultivating before, but he didn’t understand it at the time. Now, he analyzed their various postures and breathing patterns and wondered what different results they might produce.

Then Gust followed suit. It wasn’t long before he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. He’d been so focused that he nearly leapt to his feet. “Wha-?” His heart raced and Gust saw a smirking Ephraim sitting right in front of him, who waved a hand toward the other students, telling them to get back to their own work.

“Apologies, Augustus. I can tell you’ve been reading. Good. Consistency is paramount, however. It might be interesting to observe your fellow students, but you must avoid letting yourself get distracted. Are you finding the manual we provided to be sufficient?”

Gust nodded. “It’s easier than I expected, but I don’t feel like I’m getting anywhere. How will I know when I’m close to Mana Absorption?”

Ephraim nodded and the Master’s voice morphed into that of a lecturing professor as he addressed the entire class. “It may benefit the rest of you to rehash the basics, as well. The Mana Absorption stage is very simple. When your soul fills with mana, you find a barrier which prevents any further growth. It is a dam, and your cultivation the river. Talent helps the mana flow, and some cultivators barely notice the first few barriers as a result. Others struggle their entire lives, and still die at the first level of Mana Absorption. It all depends upon you.

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“When you reach that barrier, you must continue more fiercely than before, if possible. You must pack your soul full of so much mana that the dam cannot help but burst.” Ephraim lowered his voice and his eyes returned to Gust. “You are well on your way, thanks to this,” he reached over and poked the pocket within Gust’s robes which held his father’s coin. “Do you know why?”

Gust shook his head.

“Recall that this coin is infused with mana. Any such item emits an amount of mana proportional to the sum that it holds, and Augustus,” the Master leaned in, and his next words were so light that no other student could hear them, “that coin is more potent than any thousand artifacts I have ever seen.” When he straightened, Ephraim’s expression was a few shades more serious.

“So that’s why some of the other students are after me…” Gust mumbled. This was good to know, especially because it meant Gust’s cultivation would progress more quickly than he realized. It didn’t make him any safer, but it did give him hope.

Ephraim’s face cracked and his lips formed a slight smile. “There is another… much larger reason, but that will have to wait. Worry not, Augustus. Between a Demon’s talent, and that coin, you won’t have to wait very long.”

The Master’s eyes flicked down to the coin in the boy’s pocket. Ephraim smiled, nodded, and left him behind to speak to another student.

When the class ended, Gust left feeling optimistic, if a bit underwhelmed. There was no lecture, no lesson, nor even a ‘quote of the day.’ Instead, it was simple and quiet. Students spent their day cultivating, making slight adjustments as the Master advised. Next week would be similar, but spent on spells and martial arts. Since Gust couldn’t learn spells yet, and he was too weak to spar, he would spend that day cultivating to catch up.

This was also how he expected to spend his first Shen. When Gust awoke that day, he spent an hour cultivating like any other morning, but the first bell never rang. He cultivated another hour, wondering if he was simply wrong about the time, and never heard the slightest chime.

When his stomach growled, Gust crept out of his small plot of land and found an eerily empty pathway. It was darker than usual; grey clouds covered the skies. Even at the slowest of times, he had never seen the place so barren. Gust didn’t find another person until he reached the outer wall and nodded to a bored guard. There was only one today, Gust assumed this boy would have his day off tomorrow.

Only a handful of students crossed his path as Gust found the chore house to collect his breakfast. Just like any day, Theo attended his post, but this time he was cultivating.

Gust found the boy sitting on a cushion on the other end of the room as he entered. Theo’s arms were perched like branches, with his fingers flared, and the chains which usually wrapped his forearms wound about his body. Gust stared at the unusual cultivation method before the reason for his visit caught his eye.

In the center of the room, beneath the mural of the Patrons, sat a bowl filled with pouches of food. Theo opened one eye and nodded as Gust took one.

Before the boy could head home, though, he felt the need to ask something that had been bugging him. “Hey Theo,” he started, “if there are eleven days and eleven patrons… why don’t we just name every day after a Patron? Why only Shen?”

The tan boy nodded and his chains smoothly returned to their usual position as he rose from his seat. When he reached Gust, he pointed toward the man in the center of the mural with glowing eyes. “Because The Omnipotent Shen saved us all. I guess our stories never reached your world, but don’t you wonder why we worship the Patrons? It isn’t only because they’re powerful.”

“Sure, but when I have a thousand questions I want to ask, they’re pretty hard to choose from.”

Theo smirked and shook his head. “It’s strange. There are seven worlds, Augustus. Why is it that the Demons don’t know about the rest of us?” he mused. “Don’t bother answering, I know you wouldn’t know. The point is this: the Patrons are the only thing standing between our worlds and utter annihilation. They fight a war in the heavens which the rest of us couldn’t hope to comprehend, and The Omnipotent Shen is the strongest of all. He was one of the first cultivators ever. He gathered the most powerful mages in the world and formed the Grand Patronage as a way to fight and shared their Paths freely at a time when those secrets were more valuable than gold. Without him, our worlds would have ended a long time ago. He’s more than a Patron, he’s a God.” Theo stared at the golden-eyed man with a slight smile and a longing expression.

Gust’s eyebrows rose as he stared at the mural. “Why don’t we all follow his paths, then?”

Theo chuckled. “Because we don’t live near a volcano. Shen’s paths are fire and light-based. The library probably has one of his manuals, but you’d be wasting your time. I don’t want you getting ahead of yourself, Augustus, so I’ll just say this: our school follows the Mother and Pestilence because the forest provides the perfect type of mana for it. You’ll see.” Theo patted him on the shoulder and then returned to his cushion.

As Gust headed home, the Patrons were on his mind. What kind of foreign power might be such a threat that a group of eleven godlike beings could not put it to rest? From the way Theo spoke of it, Shen and the rest of them had been struggling for ages against this unknown menace.

More than anything else, he wondered what his father had against these Patrons. They were saviors, basically gods. Wouldn’t renegades be at a natural disadvantage?

Given that they were the only words written in English, Gust had to assume his father had ample reasons for leaving that warning.

Walk your own Path. Seek the Subtleties. Never give in.

Gust had no idea who, or what the Subtleties were, yet, but he had no plans to give in any time soon.

The rain began soon after Gust returned home. His small building was slightly risen to avoid letting water in and Gust watched the rain fall as he sat in his room.

Thousands of drops were absorbed into the earth, but to Gust it was like the world was covered in a thin layer of static. His poor vision couldn’t make out the individual drops, but as Gust closed his eyes, and listened to the rain pattering his roof, he almost felt at peace.