Osric found himself on the ground, his back and legs pressed firmly against the stone wall for support, his body poised like a scorpion ready to strike. He began to gradually lower his feet towards his head, arching his back gracefully and bending his knees until his toes delicately brushed the top of his head. His arms were bent at the elbows, his forearms acting as sturdy pillars on the ground, while his legs extended elegantly towards the sky, his feet hovering just above his tousled hair. He held the intricate pose for several deep, meditative breaths, reveling in the sensation of his back and legs stretching and expanding.

As Osric maintained his balance, he could feel his core and upper body muscles straining with the effort of keeping his body suspended in such an intricate position. His breaths came slow and measured, each inhale and exhale a testament to the sheer amount of focus and concentration he was pouring into the task at hand.

He closed his eyes and focused on the rhythm of his breath, allowing his tendons and muscles to expand fully in a controlled manner.

Gradually, he felt the tension in his muscles start to dissipate, replaced by a deep sense of relaxation and release that washed over him like a wave of tranquility.

And then, with a slow and deliberate movement that belied the immense control he had over his body, Osric lowered his legs back down to the ground, gently releasing the pose and returning to a seated position.

For the past few days, Osric had been adhering to a strict and meticulously planned schedule. He sought to optimize his time to the utmost degree, incorporating practical elements and absorbing new knowledge at every opportunity.

Though he received visits from Cain and Glcuia, Osric politely sent them away, explaining that he was currently engrossed in personal training and needed the solitude to focus on his progress.

Both of them had caught wind of the bet and grasped the severity of the situation. Recognizing the stakes at hand, they encouraged Osric and bid him farewell, wishing him the best in his endeavors.

However, they did make him promise to fund their food tour if he won. Osric, though somewhat reluctant, agreed to their terms with a good-natured smile. When he won, Cain would be integral in dealing with the ramifications. He needed to keep him close.

He shifted his focus to the fourth sequence of the Black Caiman Spiral, a series of movements designed to emulate the power and intensity of the fearsome Dreadscale Crocodiles. He had acquired this technique from a person he had encountered in the wilderness, who, despite being injured, had put up a bit of a fight before Osric killed him.

He carefully positioned himself to begin, starting kneeling, with one leg extended behind him and the other bent in front of him. He then leaned forward, placing his palms on the ground while simultaneously lifting his extended leg off the ground. With a graceful motion, he bent his lifted leg at the knee and reached behind with one hand to grasp the top of his foot.

With his foot firmly in his grasp, Osric slowly began to draw his lifted leg towards his body. He simultaneously arched his back and lifted his chest, all while keeping his extended leg straight and his hips square. He managed to bring his foot as close to his head as possible, ensuring his shoulders remained down and relaxed.

Osric held the pose for several breaths, feeling the stretch in his quadriceps, hip flexors, chest, and shoulders. He maintained a steady gaze, focusing his attention on his breath and the sensations coursing through his body.

As he prepared to release the pose, Osric slowly and carefully let go of his foot and gently lowered his lifted leg back to the ground. He then sat back on his heels, taking a moment to rest and breathe deeply.

The Black Caiman Spiral comprised a total of 24 movements. The first twelve were designed as a mortal technique, focusing on flexibility, and agility. These initial movements were intended to build a strong foundation. The latter twelve were meant to be used in conjunction with energy to refine the body further.

In the short term, numerous avenues were available for him to enhance his strength. However, given the shifting geography and recent developments, he needed to find something practical, long term and sustainable.

That process of narrowing down took time.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

While the specifics might have evolved, the underlying principles always remained constant; thus, while restructuring his information in the current context, he was training his body to its limits while being cognisant of his injuries and his current body state.

His primary focus is on enhancing his flexibility through a combination of static and dynamic stretching from the first 12 movements.

Flexibility was vital to developing a strong, resilient, and high-performing body.

An increase in strength resulted from a greater number of muscle fibers and enhanced bone durability. However, the flexibility of the muscles themselves played a crucial role in determining the level of power an individual could harness during a fight.

Strength acted as latent power, lying dormant until flexibility unlocked its true potential.

Thus, Osric's primary goal at this stage was to increase his flexibility so that he could utilize the full extent of his body. Rather than focusing on amassing more strength, he was training to make the most of his current capabilities, prioritizing technique over raw power.

His mind was willing, but his body had yet to fully acclimate; his muscles were not quite prepared to stretch and bend to the desired extent.

"At the rate I am improving, I am going to need about a week to Mold,"

Due to Abyssal Subcontinent’s heavy emphasis on body modification, Osric was highly skilled in training the body.

His plan was to focus on flexibility, then endurance and strength. Then focus to more specific aspects such as balance and body composition

While others might have had plenty of resources at their disposal, Osric's true strength lay in his vast backlog of experience and information.

***

Glucia and Cain leisurely strolled through the bustling, vibrant village square, the golden afternoon sun casting warm, comforting rays upon them as they skillfully navigated the lively, chattering crowd.

"He said no. Ever since that bet, all he's ever doing is staying cooped up at home; that's it, nothing else!" exclaimed Glucia, her voice slightly muffled as she took a bite of the meat bone in her hand.

She glanced at Cain with a complex mixture of concern and frustration etched on her face.

"I honestly don't know what to do. Don't look at me that way. I tried my best to get him out, but he's stubbornly not coming. He just keeps insisting he's swamped with work." Cain raised his hands in defense, feeling utterly helpless, chicken grease glistening on his fingers.

"I want to go confront Finn and demand what happened, but my old man deliberately warned me not to interfere in this messy problem, so I can't do anything," he continued, his deep voice tinged with palpable disappointment as he tore off a mouthful of the tender meat.

"Just give him more time. We're busy enough on our own. He'll have to come to the morning classes next week anyway, so we'll poke him on how he's doing then," he added, reassuring between the bites

"Yeah, that's true," Glucia nodded in wholehearted agreement, wiping her lips with a napkin.

"I don't know about you, but I'm getting increasingly nervous about the awakening. I just hope I have a decent competency," Glucia confided, her face mirroring her growing anxiety.

"Don't worry, you'll be absolutely fiiiiine. It's me that has to be worried sick. If I don't have a competency higher than 40%, my old man will literally kill me," Cain sighed, only half-joking with a wry smile, as he tossed the picked-clean drumstick bone aside.

"Hehe," Glucia laughed, her spirits momentarily lifted as they continued enjoying their impromptu meal, surrounded by the enticing, aromatic food vendors that lined the square.

***

The library had become something of a second home to Osric. His daily routine consisted of rigorous morning training, followed by a visit to the library, then back home for afternoon training, and finally, returning to the library for more engrossing reading before it closed for the day.

He had also deliberately cultivated a close relationship with the librarian as they saw each other on a near-daily basis.

"Mr. Fletcher, can you tell me more about the infected areas around the village? The village records only briefly mention them, without delving into too much detail," asked Osric, his quill poised above a worn notebook as he stood near a towering, dusty bookshelf in the dimly lit library.

These infected sites were one of the many new zones he had discovered. They were described as tortuous and tedious to deal with, but beyond that, no other information was recorded in the tomes.

"Well, ever since the Golden Renaissance Era ended, infected sites have become a staple part of the continent. Normal animals in these sites would mutate and progress, some reaching Rank 2 or even 3, depending on the time they spent there," replied the librarian, his voice echoing softly in the hushed space.

"And what happens to regular humans in these sites?" Osric asked, scribbling notes in his notebook as Mr. Fletcher spoke.

"Well, depending on your Rank, you have to fight the corruption, leading to a decreased interval in your professional pay. If you stay too long, you will mutate and turn irrational. However, the irrational physiological change has not been found in animals. Most of the sites have a core you have to destroy or something you have to kill to ease the infection."

Mr. Fletcher cast a furtive glance at Osric, who was diligently writing down the information in his notebook.

"That's all I can tell you. If you want to learn more, you need to get permission to access that information. If anyone asks where you got this information, you did not hear it from me, alright?" he smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Of course, Mr. Fletcher. I’ll just point towards the library if they really pressure me,” Osric replied with a conspiratorial grin.

“You rascal,” the librarian laughed heartily, his voice echoing softly amidst the towering bookshelves.

With that, he moved on to the next aisle, leaving Osric to ponder alone.