Elara stomped out of the town hall with a bitter expression on her face, her thick black lips pursed angrily as she approached Anthony and Pom.

“Those cheap bastards! They refused to pay the full price because it was a juvenile, even though they almost got us killed by sending us up against a warg when we were only prepared to face goblins!”

Elara let out a frustrated breath as she handed one silver coin each to Anthony and Pom.

“They only wanted to give us three silver, but I convinced them to bump it up to four when I mentioned that we are part of Edgar’s troop. I’m keeping two silver because I’m the leader.”

No one complained about Elara’s distribution of the rewards; they were happy enough to have received four times what they had expected for the goblin-hunting mission.

Elara put one hand up to shield her eyes as she glanced at the setting sun. After noting the approaching darkness she turned and asked her two subordinates about their plans for the night.

“We have spare rooms at the inn right now—no one is using them while Edgar’s team is hunting in the mountains. You are both welcome to spend the night with me, or you can do whatever you want and meet me in the morning.”

Pom decided to head back to her family's shop; she wanted to spend as much time with them as she could before leaving, and it would be easier to create her beast-taming potion with the large array of apothecary equipment her family owned.

Anthony followed Elara back to the inn. With his stepfather dead and his family home sold, he had nowhere else to go. When they reached the inn, Elara bought him some dinner out of her share of the rewards as a celebration for completing their first mission together.

While the two sat at the table finishing their meal, a group of men at the bar kept glancing over toward Elara. They appeared to be drunk and made their rude behavior quite obvious with loud laughter and regular sneers that could not be ignored.

Anthony recognized the men as a group of hunters he had seen many times before around town, though he wasn’t too familiar with any of them. He watched as Elara did her best to ignore their behavior, but between her furrowed brow and the way she clenched her spoon so tightly, it was obvious that it had ruined her mood.

As the two finished their meal and headed toward the stairs, one of the hunters stepped into their path. The room fell silent as the group of drunken men stopped talking and watched to see how the interaction would play out.

The drunken hunter rushed forward, preventing Elara from simply walking past him, and began to speak in that awkward way only drunken men can manage, pointing an unsteady finger at her as he spoke.

“You’re Edgar’s pet demon, right? What—hic—what’s your mother’s name? I figure if she’s willing to bed a demon, I should have a pretty good shot, right?”

A round of laughter erupted throughout the inn from the men at the bar. Elara’s expression instantly darkened as she stared back fiercely at the drunken hunter, raising one hand to stop Anthony from stepping toward him as she responded.

“You overestimate yourself. You’d better lower your standards to women who bed wargs, at the very least.”

A second, much louder round of laughter filled the room as the drunken hunter’s face turned a deep shade of red, his eyes wide with outrage as he stuttered sloppily while trying to come up with a response.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Before he could get the words out, the innkeeper stepped up, grabbing the drunken man's arm and pulling him away from Elara with an angry scowl on his face.

“You’re done for the night. No one harasses my customers.”

The hunter’s expression shifted to one of impotent bargaining as he began to complain toward the innkeeper.

“Aww, come on! I’ll shut up, lemme go!”

Anthony and Elara watched as the man was thrown out of the inn before continuing up the stairs toward the rooms. Elara handed Anthony a key to one of the spare rooms as she spoke, not mentioning the scene that had just occurred downstairs.

“You’re in Garren’s room. Don’t touch his stuff. Get some sleep—Edgar’s team should be back tomorrow, so we’ll probably be heading out.”

After speaking the last word, Elara quickly rushed into her room before Anthony could respond. He stood there for a few seconds, awkwardly staring at the spot where she had just been, before letting out a quiet sigh as he heard soft weeping coming from behind the wooden door.

Anthony decided to give her the space she obviously needed as he walked toward the room across the hallway, locking the door behind him as he stepped inside. The room was quite messy, with dirty clothing lying on the floor and personal items strewn about.

At least the bed seemed neat and clean—likely the work of the innkeeper. Anthony slowly removed his armor and weapon before washing his body as best he could with a bowl of water and a rag in the bathroom. Then he sat cross-legged on the bed, took out his cultivation journal, and began to read.

[The power that is used to slowly strengthen your body over time can also be wielded in battle once the user has learned proper control over their cultivation nexus. You will need to learn to engage the traumatic memory at will in order to generate the powerful burst of energy needed to empower your attacks. This should only be attempted after the first month of cultivation sessions has passed, giving the user ample time to learn sufficient energy control.]

Anthony casually rubbed his chin as he read the passage, only now did he belatedly realize what had probably occurred during the fight with his stepfather.

“Hmm. I guess I engaged the memory by accident because of what he said. Good thing I was able to direct the energy into my sword, or things could have gone very badly for me.”

Placing the journal aside, Anthony closed his eyes and focused on the glowing ball of light floating in his mind. It had grown a bit larger since the incident earlier in the day and seemed to be spinning slightly faster as well.

He concentrated on drawing the energy into his body, spending the next hour carefully creating the circulation needed to cultivate his body. With the proper amount of energy used in this way, the feeling was quite soothing—like a warm bath—unlike the uncomfortable burning he had experienced from the previous energy overload.

According to the journal, it should have taken him at least a few weeks of training to break through into the Initial Trainee realm, but somehow Anthony had done it on his first cultivation session—second if you count the one he did accidentally when he first took the potion.

The journal did explain that more potent traumas would generate more power, but those were also supposed to be nearly impossible to convert into nexus due to the overwhelming emotional burden they placed on the cultivator during the initial nexus creation.

Somehow, Anthony had managed to turn such a memory into a nexus, allowing him to train at a speed much greater than would normally be possible. Maybe it was due to Bo and his crew interfering at just the right moment?

He had no way to know for sure. Casting the distracting thoughts from his head, Anthony decided to just be thankful for the powerful cultivation nexus he had created—it would allow him to gain the power he desperately desired much faster than normally possible.

After cultivating for about an hour, he opened his eyes as he allowed the flow of energy to dissipate. Anthony held out one hand in front of his eyes, slowly clenching and unclenching his fist as he felt the slight increase in the strength of his body.

A grin couldn’t help but spread across his mouth as he thought about the future, from now on he would be growing stronger and stronger everyday. It truly felt like the world had suddenly opened up to him.