Tink… Tink… Tink…
A young boy was resting in the cell alongside Anthony, lying his small back against the cold stone wall, the boy casually tapped his wooden spoon against the bars of the cell. His name was Malcolm, and he was a regular guest here due to his penchant for harassing girls, in addition to the occasional act of thievery.
Anthony sat quietly with his legs crossed, The Fractured Path spread open on his lap as he focused on the instructions detailing the initial cultivation process, once the difficult step of creating the willpower nexus was achieved.
Malcolm lazily rolled his head in Anthony’s direction, continuing to smack his spoon against the bars. When he noticed Anthony had taken out a book to read, Malcolm’s eyes narrowed, and he began hitting the bars more forcefully with each swing of his wrist.
tink… tinkk… TINK… TINKK…
When Anthony didn’t so much as glance up in his direction, a frown spread across Malcolm’s face. Standing up, the boy stepped toward him, with his small chin pointed up arrogantly, he gestured at the journal with his spoon.
“Watcha readin’? Why don’tcha read it out loud? I like storybooks too, ya know! Any pictures in there?”
He gazed down at Anthony expectantly as he stared at the journal in the young man's hands. When Malcolm still didn’t receive a response, his frown twisted into a sneer. He pretended to relent as he walked over to the bucket of water, scooping out a ladleful as he returned to Anthony.
“Whoops!”
Malcolm stepped forward, tossing the ladle’s contents toward the journal in Anthony’s hands. What happened next didn’t follow the script Malcolm had imagined in his immature mind.
Instead of his cellmate looking up dumbly as the water ruined his book, Malcolm watched in shock as Anthony moved with incredible agility, easily evading the liquid sailing through the air as he rose to his feet.
“W-wha—Ah! L-Let go!”
Malcolm stood frozen, his mouth agape. In one fluid motion, Anthony sidestepped the water and grabbed Malcolm’s ear, shoving him toward the spill.
“Clean it up.”
Malcolm’s eyebrows furrowed as he stumbled forward, glancing back at Anthony with a face full of resentment while rubbing his aching ear.
“B-But! I got no rag!”
Anthony headed toward the opposite side of the cell, flipping his journal open once more.
“Use your shirt.”
Malcolm’s eyes widened at the suggestion. Scrunching up his nose, he crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head.
Peeking out of the corner of his eye to gauge Anthony’s reaction, Malcolm flinched when he caught the look on Anthony’s face.
A few minutes later, Malcolm sat in the corner, shivering, as the entire bucket of drinking water had somehow ended up on his head.
Anthony ignored Malcolm’s accusatory glare as he set his journal down between his crossed legs, closing his eyes and resting his two gently closed fists on his lap, one on each knee.
Focusing on the swirling star-like object in his mind, Anthony began to feel the familiar warmth spreading through his body. His task was to direct that warmth, circulating it through his limbs one at a time.
At first, it was difficult. The energy was entirely new to Anthony, and controlling it felt like learning to walk for the first time. Nevertheless, he gradually developed the capability.
If someone could see the energy flowing inside his body at that moment, they would witness a constant whirlpool swirling around and within his head. A small stream of energy branched off from that whirlpool, flowing into the rest of his body.
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Through his meditation, Anthony created an artificial circulatory system. As the energy coursed through his body, small amounts were absorbed by the flesh and muscles it passed through, leading to short-term improvements in strength and durability.
Over much longer periods and with additional specialized training, this energy could be used to develop wondrous skills and abilities. Belle, the elf on Edgar’s team, had demonstrated one such ability when she lit Edgar’s pipe with the tip of her blade.
Anthony, however, would need access to more knowledge before he could begin learning such advanced techniques. The journals he currently possessed focused almost exclusively on developing and strengthening the energy within the body as the foundation for those abilities.
He continued this process in silence for hours. Since his own body had never had access to such freely available energy before, it absorbed the flowing power like a dry sponge, greedily soaking up as much as it could. Whenever his flesh did eventually become saturated, he would need to begin additional techniques and training to enhance his body’s energy capacity.
Malcolm looked up expectantly as the dark cell began to glow with a soft golden light. At first, he thought one of the guards had opened the door to the outside. But when he realized the light was emanating from Anthony’s skin, his mouth fell open, and he jumped up from his seat.
Anthony could sense that something was about to happen. The energy pouring into his flesh for the past hour had finally begun to slow, and a golden glow started radiating from his skin—visible even with his eyes closed.
A few seconds later, the energy dwindled to a trickle before stopping entirely, and the golden light grew brighter and brighter. Malcolm, forgetting his earlier dissatisfaction with Anthony, stepped forward in wonder at the strange occurrence. Inch by inch, he moved closer, curious to see what would happen next.
As the glowing light reached its peak, Anthony felt an itchy tingling spread across the surface of his skin. The sensation quickly turned to pain, and then to an intense burning.
Gritting his teeth, Anthony fought to endure the pain, refusing to relent before the process was completed. The burning grew more and more severe until he could barely stop himself from crying out.
Thankfully, the bright golden glow suddenly began to fade as little blotches of inky blackness seeped out from beneath Anthony’s skin.
“Gah! Eww!”
Malcolm retreated to the far corner of the cell, squinting his watery eyes and pressing both hands over his mouth and nose. A stench, worse than anything he had ever smelled, flooded the room as the tar-like substance oozed from Anthony.
The golden light continued to fade, replaced by more of the foul-smelling goo. Anthony sat gasping for breath, relief washing over his face as he tilted his head back and exhaled deeply, grateful to be free of the excruciating pain.
When he finally inhaled through his nose, he began gagging. Opening his eyes, he looked down at his own skin.
“W-what? But... isn’t it too soon?”
Malcolm watched in disgusted horror as Anthony rose from the ground, not quite able to make out the muttering coming from the young man's lips, something about how this wasn’t supposed to happen yet.
Anthony walked toward where the water bucket had once been, desperate to clean the filth from his body. Only then did he recall the incident that had occurred earlier with Malcolm.
Malcolm began to slowly retreat as Anthony’s gaze fell on him, the much older boy’s eyes narrowing as he looked down at the wet clothing clinging to Malcolm’s body. Realizing what was about to happen, Malcolm pressed his back against the wall, a rapid fire series of words escaping from his mouth..
“No, no, no, no, no! P-please! I’m sorry!”
A few moments later, Malcolm sat shivering in the corner once again, this time bare-chested, staring sadly at the scrunched-up ball of wet cloth that had once been his shirt. The ruined garment was now covered top to bottom in disgusting black filth that would be nearly impossible to clean.
He glared at Anthony with a deep frown, wiping the moisture from his eyes.
Meanwhile, Anthony leaned against the stone wall, feeling better than he had at any point in his life. His skin looked pristine and smooth, without a single blemish. Even his hair appeared more healthy.
Clenching a fist, he felt the power in the muscles of his arm, every indication was telling him that he had grown much stronger. Anthony was eager to get out of here so he could train, and discover how much this initial breakthrough had actually improved his physical abilities.
Glancing casually at the pouting figure of Malcolm, Anthony allowed a small smirk to tug at the corner of his mouth as he teased the boy.
“Keep those pants nice and clean for me. I might need them next.”
A look of pure horror spread across Malcolm’s face as he glanced down at his only remaining piece of clothing, fresh tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.
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Unbeknownst to Anthony, a hooded figure had been leaning against the stonewall of the prison, directly outside of his cell. This figure had remained there, nearly motionless, for the entire time period that Anthony was inside.
But the moment that the golden glow surrounded Anthony during his training, the shoulders of the figure began to tremble. Finally moving for the first time, the figure rose off the wall in great haste, dashing away down the dirt road.