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Within a few decades, I had wiped out all but the most powerful sects.

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His eyes wide open in wonder, Matt stared at the glowing shield hanging in the air in front of him. Sparkling with light blue essence that seemed to burn a hole in reality. He took a tentative step forward and reached a hand out to touch the magical barrier; feeling an unyielding hardness and seeing how thin threads coalesced into symbols where his hand met the surface. A moment later, tendrils of blue symbols dissipated into the air as the shield ran out of essence.

His eyebrows drew together as he watched the spot the shield had just vacated. Sure, it was impressive, but… His initial excitement was dampened as he considered practical problems. In an actual fight, an attacker would simply step aside. Renew their charge and attack around the shield. Even if I could time the casting perfectly, they would realign the direction of their strike immediately after. Matt had fought enough highly skilled people to know any weakness would be exploited within seconds.

When Pete summoned his magical shield using his skill, it would remain for a long time. Something about Matt’s magic only made the barrier last a few seconds, and he needed to be precise. He needed to better control the shield… The shield was an expression of my will. More than a result of whatever my hand drew, it mimicked my thoughts. Is there a good reason why it should be static, except I somehow imagined it to be?

Reaching his hand out again, he pictured the Shield rune in his mind and filled the image with essence as he stamped his will into the world. A shield glowed into appearance, and as he moved his hand to the side, he willed the rune to follow the motion, imagining it moving through the air. And it did, exactly as he pictured it. As his hand moved, so did the magical shield, its movement instantly following his thoughts. Narrowing his eyes, he moved his hand even faster, as if an attacker was charging him with a sword. Without delay, the barrier tracked his movements perfectly, before suddenly flaring out of existence a moment later.

So I can block a strike, perhaps two. But if they strike again, and again… Will I be able to recast it quickly enough? And with my attention fixed on casting the shield, I won’t be able to focus on the rest of the fight. How can I make it last longer? Smiling with an idea, Matt recast the Shield rune, and this time he kept up his connection to the pattern after it appeared, maintaining a thin stream of essence that flowed from him to the glowing barrier even as it followed his arm’s movement. Testing the connection, he stepped forward, and the shield followed his forward movement. Even as he pivoted sharply to one side before retreating, the shield stayed in perfect position.

A strange feeling made him look inside, and he could see the essence flowing out of it and out through his body to connect to the shield. As he watched, he saw his core flickering with energy, as if strained, and he felt the energy stores draining slowly. Better save some, he thought as he dropped the connection to the shield, only to watch it disappear moments later.

That makes it more useful in an actual battle, but it draws significant amounts of essence. I wonder how long I can keep it up before I am out of energy?

Another idea struck him. I wonder if using my hand is even necessary, if I’m directing it with my mind. I’m not really drawing the rune with my hand, just waving it around …

Keeping his hands by his side, he drew the rune in his mind and willed the shield into existence in the air in front of him, and with a flash it appeared, hovering in the air in the exact spot where he had directed his attention. As he imagined the shield moving, it moved with his thoughts.

Awesome. So even if both my hands are occupied with the guandao, I have a way of defending myself. I really need to experiment more, and find someone to spar with. Can I keep this up in the middle of a heated battle? And are there other runes that–

A wave of excitement brought him over to his desk, where he found a pen and some paper.

I need to make a list of runes to test out, and experiments I want to run. Shield is great, but what I really need is more offensive power. And I need to test out if I can maintain two runes at the same time, or see if there are combinations that will work where others won’t. And how strong will they be against magical weapons and attacks? What determines which attack wins out?

Matt wrote down different experiments he wanted to try on one side of the page, and on the other, he made a list of other runes he wanted to test out. Speaking of experiments…

He looked inwards to his core, which had changed overnight from a dull grey to a blue that reminded him of the sky just before sunrise. Something else that was new was the appearance of channels reaching towards the core from all around in the surrounding void. Like thick ropes, they reached out to weave through his body to connect with the core’s energy. What was that about the Governing Vessel?

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

He let his focus trace the channels outwards, following them as they led into his body. A silent thrum of energy was spilling out from the channels as he observed them, drawing on his core to distribute essence throughout his body. He recognised the channels as the same pathways that had filled with pain yesterday: now they had become part of him, a part of his body. Their purpose came to him by intuition, and he gently flexed his core to push essence out into his body. Following the channels, the energy immediately rushed out on his command. His legs, his arms, his torso, his hands and feet. His head! His entire body became charged with power, and Matt felt his bones become denser, his muscles stronger and his mind quicker. Everything appeared lighter, more clear, and he was filled with a sense of power.

When he took a step forward, Matt felt like it was the first real step he had ever taken. Every contraction and expansion of his muscles were under his control. He could hear the nerves send their signals, and his mind worked with crystal and conscious clarity to transform those signals into decisions and commands for his limbs. He took another step and marvelled at the exact nature of each movement. The control he felt over his own body was like nothing he had felt before, and he could not wait to test out the strength that filled him. When he punched the air in front of him, his eyes were almost unable to track his fist as it was propelled forward to snap with white essence to hit an imagined foe.

His strike triggered a vague unease somewhere in his mind. He stopped to think, trying to figure out what his mind was telling him. Something was urgent, but even closing his eyes and breathing deeply, he couldn’t quite catch whatever it was his memory was trying to tell him. But it reminded him of something else.

The tournament! What time is it?

Today was the second day of the tournament. The day of the finals, and he wanted to see the fights! And he needed to be there to support Charlotte. Not that she needed his support, but he knew how much his presence would please her. For a moment he felt regret at not having signed up–what he might have achieved now–but knew that he wouldn’t have made it through the first day, anyway. Oh well. Next time. For now, I need to get going. As long as I’m there for the last few finals, it should be OK.

Collecting his things, he cast a quick look around his room. His eyes fell on the guandao, and for some reason, his instinct told him to pick the weapon up and carry it with him today. But I won’t be able to bring it into the spectator’s stands. It’s just bored. I almost never use it. He sent an apologetic message to vibrate across their connection and headed for the door. In response, the guandao sent back an insistent message to not leave it behind, and he gave the handle a pat on his way out to the corridor outside. Patience, weapon. I’ve got a feeling things will get interesting for us very soon.

Ignoring the call from the guandao, he exited his room and turned down the hallway. Half running, he soon arrived at the market square only to see it nearly abandoned. Usually the area would be packed with vendors and their customers, but instead of shouts and loud bartering, it was eerily quiet.

Almost everyone must be at the tournament, he thought, and as walked over to one of the stands, he noted the absence of the guards normally posted at the entrance to the city from the hallway he had arrived through.

“Gia, breakfast please.”

As he waited for her to serve him the spicy bread he always ate for breakfast, he wondered aloud, “Where is everyone today? Is the tournament really that popular? Even the guards?”

“Oh no, Matt. Not just the tournament, anyway. They rounded up anyone who could fight not long ago. Apparently there is a dungeon break-out to the north, and Pete summoned everyone who could help. Whoever is not in the Arena will be with him.” She scowled. “This is a nasty one. I heard him mention reavers.”

Fuck. “Oh. I should see if there is anything I can do to help. Thanks, Gia,” he said as he threw some coins at her. Hastening to the square’s north exit, he dropped his bread into a pouch on his side.

I need to get there as quickly as I can. Let’s try this. Jogging, he triggered his core to fill his body with essence. As energy filled his limbs, his jog became a run, and soon he was racing down the streets of Sanctuary faster than ever before.

The way to the North dungeons went past the Arena, and as he approached it he could hear the clamour from inside. Shouting, yelling and screams of pain brought back memories from yesterday. First, he remembered the pain. The all-consuming pain that had led to his breakthrough. Then, Charlotte grinning widely as she held her arm high, and then walking proudly to join the winner’s side when Glydia declared her as one of the finalists. And…

An icy shiver ran down his back as he remembered Terrence. One of the best fighters in the city, walking nonchalantly over to the loser’s side with a grin on his face. One of his friends patting his back and grinning back.

The observations turned over in Matt’s head, and with an almost audible click, they assembled into a conclusion. Now he knew what it was his mind had tried to warn him about all day.

Oh, fuck oh fuck oh fuck. All the best fighters are in the Arena. And everyone else is somewhere to the North… Everyone else, including the guards. Terrence and his friends lost on purpose, and… Oh fuck.

He pushed even more essence into his body, until he felt his legs burn from the pressure, and ran as fast as he could towards the council palace. The journey didn’t take him long, and within a few minutes, he raced up the stairs and pushed open the doors to the council chamber.

The scene appeared in front of him in a flash.

Mia, struggling as two men held her.

Shawn, standing with one hand on Mia’s chair, his eyes twinkling with dark amusement.

Sofie on the floor, her eyes closed, blood spreading out around her head. A man stood over her.

Two powerful hands grabbing him from behind. Terrence.

“Welcome, Matt.”