“Belle, Garren, finish our preparations for the mission. I’m going to get Anthony set up so he can begin his training while we’re gone.”

Anthony’s eyebrows furrowed as he glanced down across the table at Edgar.

“You’re not taking me with you?”

Edgar flipped his pipe over, tapping it firmly against the table to empty out the ash before sliding it into his pocket. After carefully securing the buttons over the pocket he patted the outside gently with his open palm. When he was satisfied that the pipe was well secured he looked up at Anthony, shaking his head as he casually gestured toward the young man.

“Bring a novice along on a warg hunt? I think not.”

Edgar rose to his feet, taking a good look at Anthony as he rubbed his fingers across the grey hairs on his chin. Turning away he headed toward the stairs, raising one hand to motion for Anthony to follow.

“Come with me boy.”

Anthony followed Edgar out of the lobby, up the stairs, and through the locked door of Edgar’s lodgings. The mercenary leader stepped up to a large backpack and unstrapped the top flap. As he began removing items, he peered into the depths of the bag while he spoke.

“Anthony… are you aware of the reason you weren’t permitted to join our troop until your sixteenth birthday?”

Anthony’s eyes narrowed as he slowly shook his head.

“I just assumed that someone so young would be of no use to you.”

Edgar shrugged as he pulled out a thick stack of journals from the bottom of the oversized bag.

“Not exactly. The real reason is that before the age of sixteen your body hasn’t absorbed enough latent mana to begin physical cultivation. If you were magically gifted you might have been taken in by some noble house before that age to begin training in the magical arts, but that’s not your path.”

Anthony’s eyes widened slightly as a distant look spread across his face.

“I see… so all my frustration over wasted time was misguided. I wish I had known sooner.”

Edgar shook his head as he began laying out the journals on the bed for Anthony to see.

“No one is going to give you any details about cultivation before you’ve joined them, so you couldn’t have known.”

He gestured to the three journals on the left side, their bindings clean and unbroken, looking relatively new.

“These are three decent physical cultivation methods with very few requirements to start. Almost anyone could use these to begin growing their power. This one uses strong physical defense as the foundation for growth, while the other two focus more on offensive strength. The green one emphasizes ranged attacks and agility.”

Edgar pushed the three journals forward for Anthony to examine, then lifted the last journal to display it as he continued.

“This… is something I’ve been holding onto for a long time. It cannot be used by most people; the requirements are too strict. This method creates a focus in your mind that empowers your will, vastly increasing the speed at which your body absorbs mana and generating much more potent effects than the others.”

Anthony’s attention was drawn away instantly from the cultivation methods in his hands, his eyes locking onto the item that Edgar displayed. The final journal was so ancient that it was already on the verge of being destroyed by the passage of time. He reached out to accept it, but Edgar pulled back, raising his voice as he spoke in a much more strict tone.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Hold on, boy. There’s a catch. This is a desperate cultivation method. It requires a traumatic memory to serve as the nexus of your training. The stronger the trauma, the greater the potential growth. Most of these journals have been destroyed. They were once used by a sadistic sorceress to empower her slaves. The way she went about ‘gifting’ them with traumatic memories to fulfill the requirements is too terrible a tale to recount. But the captain of her slaves became too powerful to control, breaking free of his mental bindings and slaying his own mistress. Unfortunately, the dark magic used to enslave the man, combined with the side effects of this cultivation technique had severely warped his mind, turning him into a beast of slaughter. He began to destroy the surrounding city, killing thousands. Eventually, five high elfen magi were organised to put him down, two of them dying in the ensuing battle.”

Anthony wore a stern expression as he nodded firmly, turning over the palm of his outstretched hand, waiting to accept the journal. Edgar let out a deep sigh as he placed the dilapidated item in Anthony’s hand.

“If you use this method, you must keep it secret. Many people consider this training style evil in and of itself. I disagree. It’s just a tool like any other, to be used for good or ill. Read the whole thing before you start. You need to be fully aware of what you’re signing up for.”

Edgar led Anthony back out of the room, locking the door behind him before turning to face the young man. Reaching into the pouch at the front of his leggings, Edgar pulled out a silver coin and flicked it over to Anthony.

“That’s a loan. I’ll expect repayment out of your first mission rewards. You’ll need to visit the apothecary and purchase the required starting materials for whichever method you choose. We’ll find you in a few days once we’ve cleared out the den of wargs. Show those journals to no one. Go. Get to work. Grow strong enough to be of aid to Elara.”

Anthony looked down at the shiny silver coin in his hand, running his fingers over the smooth surface. He glanced up at Edgar, his expression a mixture of shock and gratitude. Nodding firmly, he gave his thanks briefly before rushing away, jumping past steps as he raced down the stairs and out of the building.

Anthony held the silver coin tightly in his clenched fist, hugging the journals against his chest like precious treasures, as he rushed through the small town. It didn’t take long for him to arrive at his chosen destination. He slowed down as he approached the large apple tree beside the church graveyard. From here he could see the small plot of land that held an empty casket, buried beneath the stone that bore his mother’s name.

Sitting down cross-legged, Anthony took a few deep breaths to settle himself, staring up at the lush green foliage above. The bark on one of the lower limbs of the tree showed two worn handholds, a result of the thousands of pull-ups he had completed in this spot over the years.

Glancing down at the journals in his hands, Anthony placed the first three to the side without a second glance, focusing his attention on the badly worn leather book in his grasp.

“The frac…tured p-path?”

He read the words on the cover aloud, struggling with the heavily worn lettering. Thankfully, when he flipped open the front cover, he found that the writing inside was in much better condition. Anthony carefully turned to the first page and began to read.

[The Fractured Path is a technique designed to make whole what was broken, binding the damaged soul anew. When done correctly, users will gain a potential much greater than what they previously possessed…]

For the next three hours, Anthony didn’t move an inch from his seated position, completely enchanted by the words before him. The sound of singing drifted over from the nearby church, the pleasant vocals adding to his hypnotic focus as he blazed through page after page. Above him, the sun rose high into the sky.

When lunchtime had nearly passed, Anthony finally turned the last page of the journal. Taking a deep breath, he flipped the back cover forward to close the book as he leaned back against the tree trunk and began to process the information he had consumed.

As Anthony was deep in thought, a pang of hunger ran through his stomach. Rising to his feet, he reached up through the low branches above and pulled an apple from the tree. The fruit nearly reached his teeth when his eyes widened, recalling that fasting was crucial for the first step of cultivating The Fractured Path.

Stuffing the apple into his pocket, Anthony flipped back to the early pages, scanning for the detailed instructions on the ingredients and preparation method for the potion he would need. Quickly committing them to memory, he stepped away from the apple tree, pausing a short distance away to look back at the gravestones.

Straightening his posture, Anthony pressed his lips into a thin line, a steady voice filled with resolve soon issuing forth from the young man.

“Mom… I’ll be leaving Whitestone very soon. The time has finally come. I know you would probably tell me to stay here with Nana, but I can’t do that. I’ll return to visit her someday, I promise. Goodbye… I love you mom.”

Anthony quickly turned away before the old familiar emotions could finish rising up inside of him, he made his way out of the churchyard, rushing down the small hillside toward the main road.

It was time to get stronger.