Extract from the -{ Tome of the ‘Forgotten One’ }- Divine scripture of the Church of the ‘Forgotten One’.
"In the twilight of discernment, see through the facade of brilliance that blinds the discerning eye. Trust in the obsidian clarity that reveals the treachery of the false light." (The False Light 2:5)
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The void enveloped Asher, a darkness so complete it seemed to swallow even the concept of light. Silence pressed against his eardrums, a tangible force that threatened to crush him. He tried to move, to orient himself in this featureless expanse, but his body refused to obey. His eyes, wide with panic, darted frantically, searching for any point of reference in the nothingness.
BANG BANG!!
The sound shattered the silence like a hammer through glass. It reverberated through Asher's being, each thunderous impact sending tremors through the void. Without understanding how, he found himself turning, his body responding to some unseen current in the darkness.
There, suspended in the nothingness, floated the steel gate that had haunted his waking thoughts. Its presence seemed to warp the very fabric of reality, bending the emptiness around it.
BANG BANG!!
The sound came again, clearer now. Something beyond that imposing barrier demanded entry, each impact a challenge to the gate's integrity.
BANG BANG!!
"Open the door."
The voice boomed from everywhere and nowhere, filling the void with its commanding presence. Asher felt the weight of expectation pressing down on him, but something deep within rebelled against the idea of unleashing whatever waited on the other side.
As if sensing his hesitation, the gate began to change. Its edges glowed, first a dull red that quickly intensified to a searing orange-yellow. Light leaked from beneath the frame, as if the gate were barely containing the fury of a sun. The heat was palpable, even in this impossible space, and Asher felt sweat beading on his forehead.
BANG BANG!!
"Open the door, Kid."
The familiar form of address jarred Asher. Before he could process its significance, he felt a violent tugging sensation. The void blurred around him, reality reasserting itself with dizzying speed.
Asher's eyes snapped open, his chest heaving as he gulped down air. The rough texture of the bedding beneath him grounded him in the waking world, even as the phantom heat of the dream-gate lingered on his skin.
BANG BANG!!
"Wake up, boy."
The hunter's gruff voice cut through the last vestiges of the dream. Asher's heart pounded against his ribs as he stumbled to his feet, nearly tripping over the tangled bedding. He yanked open the door, blinking in the harsh light of morning.
The hunter stood there, his massive frame filling the doorway. His eyes narrowed as he took in Asher's disheveled appearance and sweat-soaked clothes.
"About time," he growled, his tone a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. "Wake up and meet me down by the logs outside."
Before Asher could respond, the hunter thrust a canteen and a bundle wrapped in leathery leaves into his hands. The rich, gamey scent of dried meat wafted up from the package, mingling with the tart aroma of dried fruit.
"Breakfast," the hunter grunted, already turning away. "Don't keep me waiting."
Asher moved on autopilot, his mind still reeling from the vivid dream. He hastily made his bed, gulping down bites of jerky and fruit between movements. The flavors barely registered as he chewed mechanically, his thoughts a whirlwind of steel gates and commanding voices.
Outside, the crisp morning air helped clear the last cobwebs from Asher's mind. He approached the hunter, who waited by the woodpile, and was struck by how different the man looked. Gone was the intimidating leather armor of yesterday. Instead, the hunter wore a loose tank top that did little to conceal his impressive musculature. His hair was tied back with a simple cloth, emphasizing the sharp angles of his face and the intensity of his gaze.
"Since it's the first day, I'll let it slide," the hunter said, smoke curling from the pipe clenched between his teeth. "But from now on, if you're not up past sunrise, there will be consequences."
The ominous promise hung in the air between them. Asher swallowed hard, nodding his understanding.
"Let's start with a question," the hunter continued, his eyes boring into Asher. "What do you think is the most important thing for a warrior?"
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Asher's mind raced, analyzing the question from every angle. He thought of the hunter's imposing physique, the fluid grace of his movements, and compared it to his own untrained body. The answer crystallized in his mind.
"Fundamentals," Asher replied, his voice steady despite the nervousness fluttering in his stomach.
The hunter's eyebrow arched, a flicker of interest breaking through his stoic facade. "And why do you think that is?"
Asher took a deep breath, organizing his thoughts. "Well, if we consider us, even if we both had the same set of skills and mastery, hypothetically... your application would always beat mine. You'd have a more robust foundation, so your application of skills would always be magnitudes better."
A cloud of smoke obscured the hunter's face for a moment. When it cleared, a smirk played at the corners of his mouth. "Correct."
Asher felt a small surge of pride, but he tempered it quickly. The hunter's expression suggested there was more to come.
"However," the hunter continued, his voice taking on a lecturing tone, "remember this: the world no longer obeys just physical laws. While what you've said is almost always true, there are skills out there that can bypass and break such common sense. Relying solely on those skills is a death sentence, but always be prepared for the unexpected. Account for it."
The implications of the hunter's words sent Asher's imagination into overdrive. He pictured himself as a master martial artist, honed to physical perfection... only to be obliterated by a falling meteorite. The absurdity of the image almost made him laugh, but the seriousness in the hunter's eyes sobered him quickly.
"Since you understand its importance, I won't lecture you further," the hunter said, tapping out his pipe. "Today, we'll be checking your physical limits so I can draw up a plan for you. We'll start with running laps around the clearing. Begin now, and don't stop unless I tell you to."
Asher nodded, setting off at a steady jog. The dewy grass dampened his shoes as he circled the clearing, his breath forming small clouds in the cool morning air. For the first few minutes, he felt good, his body warming to the exercise.
Then reality set in.
By the third minute, his lungs burned with each breath. By the sixth, his legs felt like lead weights, each step a monumental effort. Sweat poured down his face, stinging his eyes and leaving salty trails on his lips.
Asher's pace began to flag. His body screamed for rest, for just a moment's respite. He started to slow, preparing to catch his breath...
THWACK!
A sharp pain exploded in his thigh. Asher stumbled, losing his balance and tumbling to the ground. His palms scraped against the earth as he tried to break his fall. Wincing, he looked up to see the hunter perched atop the cabin, arm still extended from throwing the rock.
"Did I tell you to stop?" the hunter's voice boomed across the clearing. "Keep going like this, and you won't even be able to run from mutated stray dogs back home, much less protect anyone else from them."
The words hit Asher like a physical blow. The reality of his situation crashed over him anew. This wasn't about winning or losing anymore. It was about survival – his own, and that of everyone he cared about.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Asher pushed himself to his feet. His muscles protested, his lungs felt like they were on fire, but he forced himself forward. Each breath was agony, but he focused on finding a rhythm, syncing his breathing with his movements.
Step. Breathe. Step. Breathe.
The world narrowed to these simple actions. Asher pushed beyond what he thought possible, drawing on reserves of strength he never knew he possessed.
And then, something changed.
It was subtle at first, a lightness in his limbs that he attributed to exhaustion. But as he continued to run, the sensation grew. His body felt more responsive, as if the connection between his will and his muscles had somehow strengthened.
"You can take a pause now."
The hunter's words barely registered through the roaring in Asher's ears. His body, running on sheer willpower, took the command literally. He didn't slow down or stagger to a stop. He simply collapsed, momentum carrying him a few more feet across the ground before he lay still, chest heaving as he gulped down air.
Through blurry vision, Asher saw the hunter appear beside him. The man's face was unreadable as he studied Asher's prone form. Without a word, he set down a canteen filled with watered-down fruit juice and returned to his seat on the logs.
As Asher's senses slowly returned, he became aware of a rustling sound nearby. Turning his head took monumental effort, but he managed to focus on the source of the noise.
The huntress emerged from the bushes at the edge of the clearing, her lithe form encased in form-fitting leather armor. In one hand, she carried a spear with an unusually long blade. In the other, a small pouch that seemed to capture the hunter's attention.
"Looks like the training is going well," she remarked, her melodic voice tinged with amusement as she took in Asher's state.
The hunter grunted, refilling his pipe with practiced motions. "The kid has potential. His mind's in the right place. He has composure and thinks ahead. Only his body is too weak to be of any use to him as it is right now."
He paused, tamping down the tobacco. "What's most impressive is his willpower. He exhausted himself to the limit, and even without much 'motivation' from me, he did it all willingly."
The huntress raised an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Huh, that's nice. Guess using all this stuff on him won't be a waste." She lifted the pouch, its contents rustling softly.
The hunter's eyes flicked to the bag, then back to the huntress's face. "Regardless, we have to do our best with this task if we want to get a good completion rating from the system."
The huntress's expression shifted to one of mock irritation. She stepped closer, poking a finger into the hunter's broad chest. "Well, I was taking care of all these herbs diligently and looking forward to using them myself. You better make it worth it for me."
A rare smile crossed the hunter's face as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. The huntress waved it away, her nose wrinkling. "It will be worth it, don't worry, Abbygale."
"Hmph. Well then, I'll trust you, Gabriel." The use of their names carried a weight of familiarity, hinting at a shared history beyond this current task.
As the two continued their conversation, Asher finally found the strength to push himself up. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the sky as his body throbbed with exertion.
'Fuck,' he thought, the crude word encompassing the magnitude of his situation. He was weak – disgustingly, pathetically weak. How could he hope to face the challenges ahead, to protect anyone, when he could barely run for fifteen minutes?
A flicker of movement at the edge of his vision caught Asher's attention. He turned his head, focusing on the holographic screen that had materialized beside him.
[ Physical limits surpassed, Agility +1 ]
Asher blinked, reading the message again. A faint spark of hope kindled in his chest. It wasn't much, but it was a start. A tangible sign that he could improve, that his efforts weren't in vain.