****************

Wyatt Graves

I grumble to myself as I watch Blake and Johnny fight off a group of Naked Bears, large bear-like creatures without fur. The only reason they are even called bears is because of their large stature and a disproportionate head resembling a bear's head to whoever first found them.

"I feel fine. It's been over a week!"

Silas, beside me, chuckles as he tosses a coin back and forth atop Darkmane. He's waiting for the area ahead to be cleared before we can continue.

"That's your own fault, boy. Maybe you'd be allowed to join if you were more careful and less reckless. Can't trust you not to kill yourself."

I try to argue against him, but he shuts me down quickly as he stops tossing his coin to look at me.

"I feel fine, though. No open wounds, broken bones, or–"

His voice starts accusatory but rapidly shifts to a more caring tone.

"What about all those bruises? Scars? That patch on your head that looks like a wolf tried to eat you? Just relax, kid. You are fine. You are not needed. You are allowed to relax. That's what you need to hear, right? You've been forced to step up the past few months, or at least you've felt like it. Backed against a wall, fighting for your life without another option. Depended upon by others despite not being ready to take care of yourself. I know the feeling too. Just relax. Okay? You got at least another two weeks before we get to Starkbluffs with Darkmane here and Blake's help, so you best get used to this calm and recover."

His words quiet me as Blake finishes the last Naked Bear, siphoning its strength using her bandages as it collapses into weakness. She's been getting really good at that lately. It must be from that book. Before, she only knew how to do it up close.

As the two of the Gunfighter and Blake, who Silas coined, heh coined, the Hearse because she can take in a spirit at a time, walk toward us, Silas finishes speaking to me before getting Darkmane to start moving the shabby wagon once more.

"You're gonna need that rest. The Underworld is about to have a whole bunch of new fighters soon."

I nod to his words. The whole world is about to break. We have gotten out of Sinscreak and are now riding along the border between Timberlands and Bonedunes. I can only imagine the devastation that will come from what occurred. A fall of a Pillar? Damn…

While I knew the goal was to fight against them, besides those like Marshall, I never really understood what that meant. It meant risking the safety of humanity by overthrowing its current leaders. Even then, our goal wasn't to fight them directly; it was more to survive on our own against the demons, Pygmies, Nahullo, and whatever else might attack us, to return from the ashes and rebuild anew.

Like Johnny said a while ago, fighting our Pillars head-on is mostly counter-intuitive. It weakens us and the ones who also fight our enemies. Might as well try to be as separate as we possibly can be. Sometimes, though, that's impossible.

Bored and with nothing else to do as Johnny watches me like a hawk, I start reading. I've been doing it almost this whole ride, as he stopped me from even using Ether.

I reread Enclosed Fists again. And again. And again. And again, as the days continue to pass. Unable to practice anything in the book besides the mental and sensory, I just soak in the knowledge provided. Several more days pass through our travel before we stop yet again.

********************

Steps resound from outside the wagon as I look up to see Johnny hop into the vehicle. Earlier, he left to visit this small town we are passing by with Pain, Kai's son, and now he's returned without Pain. I wanted to go with him, but he told me I couldn't. This shit is starting to grate on me, and it's only been a few weeks.

Silently, I continue to read as Johnny explains to Blake that he left Pain with a family in the town willing to take him. We can't take care of such a young child with all the dangers we encounter. Then, Johnny details how he guided them on a path to Vallens, the likely safest place in the coming storm.

I watch the man slide down the back of the wagon, his eyes staring into the distance with his gradually returning vision. His face is grieved and solemn as he puts his palm to his face, speaking to himself quietly with his fingers pulling his long ebony hair.

Wanting to keep his privacy but still frustrated with him, I Listen closely, Ether swirling in my ears.

"Another one, Johnny. Can't you protect any of them?"

His muffled outburst about being too weak to protect the young child hits home. He had to give Pain away because we are too weak to protect it. Bonedunes still has their Silent Scorpion, Clarence Love, but he's not a very active Pillar. He'd prefer to stay safe and live in his home than help save a town beset by dangers. All we can do is hope that the family who took him makes it to a safe place. The child is only like that because of me. I glance back at Eleanor's book with determination.

Never again. A Pillar of humanity, a man with less than twenty human equals alive, counting Outlaws, died because of me. I need to do better. Become better. Even if Johnny doesn't want me to, I will practice. I'll do it carefully, starting with the least dangerous and most challenging techniques to detect.

I just can't sit still any longer.

So, I do as Eleanor Granger said to; I block off all my senses to raise another. Thankfully, this is something I can do without Johnny being aware of, as Eleanor details several skills on for this purpose. Blind, Deafen, Anosma, Naptic, and Guston. These skills are internal weaves of Ether that turn off a sense temporarily, sight, sound, smell, touch, and taste, respectively. But, again, there is almost no way for Johnny to know what I'm doing as there are no physical phenomena, and the Ether used in these skills is so tiny as the focus is on using minute snippets of Ether. I can't do big, showy things, but I can practice the small. And that's what I'll do until we reach Starbluffs. Maybe by then, it'll make a difference.

In the corner of the wagon, ignoring the others and Lennox asking why the now-gone Pain didn't speak, I Blind myself. Ether enters the nerve within my eye and creates a small orb that blocks off any sight. I'm drowned in darkness after an hour of careful practice to use the simple skill once, but it also helps that I've spent the last week learning these skills in great detail. But in that darkness, I still see my world of chains. Everything is created of chains, and as such, all that happens is all my other senses become just a bit more focused, especially hearing.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

It becomes pretty hard to tune out the conversation, actually.

"So, he can talk but doesn't know words?"

A groan comes from Blake that I hear almost as if it's next to me despite being on the other side of the wagon.

"Yes. Children that young don't know any languages barring a few words, Lennox."

Lennox's cheery voice counters Blake's answer with another query from his unending list.

"So, how did I learn how to spe–"

I cut off his voice as I try to use Deafen now that I have a handle on how to use these skills, the general jist being the same for each. A small bubble of Ether appears inside both of my ears simultaneously, cutting off the noise around me.

Once more, I feel my senses grow, the smell of wood and grass prevalent around me maturing even more profoundly, and I notice a slight change within this world made of chains. Everything kind of becomes… not clearer per se, but more defined. Each chain has a tad bit more detail than before.

I move on to the following sense. Smell. Another small bubble appears in each of my nostrils deep within that cuts off the smell from the world around me. It feels like having a cold, the smell gone even if your nose isn't clogged. Once this sense disappears, I taste my tongue and feel my clothes, so obviously, it is uncomfortable. This is such an odd pairing of feelings that I immediately move on to removing taste as well. At the same time, I notice the increased definition of my world of chains. They are gaining more and more detail, slowly reaching the expected level of depiction that normal vision would have.

Another bubble appears underneath my tongue, blocking off the taste from the muscle quite quickly as I acclimate to using these skills. Another change occurs as I can even feel the scars on my skin, not just the clothes I wear. The feeling of the wagon bouncing increases to the level of actual pain and not just discomfort. It's like a thousand bugs crawling all over me in painful synchronicity.

Shaking slightly from the disturbing sensation, unwilling to even look around to gauge the world of chains, I cut off that last sense as it is the most difficult, according to Eleanor. A final bubble appears at the bottom of my brain as I carefully make it to not damage any part of my brain.

Then, there is nothing. No sights of colors, no sounds of talking or wind, no smells of rain, no taste of food, and not even a feeling of the tremor beneath me of the wagon. Not even my world of chains exists anymore, the obscure benefit of my new Sigil going away as my final sense does. Just peace and Ether. Or, as Eleanor put it, Tranquility.

I can't tell where I'm at. However, I can still vaguely tell what position my body is in, kinesthesia being so ingrained that to remove it would require far higher Ether manipulation than I am comfortable with using.

Instead, I settle for this in the corner of the cabin and let my mind wander in this darkness. Almost every aspect of this book has been ingrained into my mind like burrs into wood. All I need is to practice the seemingly endless teachings. One page, the page that leads to Tranquility, has taken me days to reach. Within this darkness, I bring Eleanor's words to my mind about my current state.

Tranquility. It is the state that all, in my opinion, should reach. To exist in the darkness of the womb. There is no better place for thought, recollection, and planning. No better place to improve. Few are willing to rob themselves of their senses so far as to simply exist. But once you reach this state, the mind opens, not to the outside but to the inside. Look back on all your failures. All your triumphs. And improve. Then, and only then, will your enclosed fist become any different.

And as you reopen your senses, do so one by one. Clarity will come. A warrior cannot survive without knowledge, and the best way to learn is to perceive.

In this serene darkness, I do as she says; the wisdom of one such as a Supreme is far too important to ignore. So, I look back.

A sensation akin to rewinding a clock falls through me as my imagination goes backward in time to the day it all began. I look back to the day Ma died, specifically the part where I fought my first monster. That Ratbeak. The lowest level of Hura's army he raised, such a low level I practically ignored them during the battle at Rustbank. I almost died scrambling for the Lily that day. Now? I could just beat it to death with my fists and some Ether. But that's not what I should do.

I need to improve. Not just find solutions impossible to the version of me of that period. I need to learn to run. To live. Edmund told me this a long time ago, and I ignored him. I should not have. A man on the gallows I am. And I always have been. The second the world learned of Ma's death through their Augurs, I was placed upon those wooden stands with a noose around my neck.

Few know of my existence, most only knowing of her death and my father's supposed death, but those who do, are powerful enough to dig my grave. Alexos and Darkstep. Deep in this Tranquility, I realize why the latter has not exposed me. It's because she's a Nahullo. Why would she leak that information to the Hunters? It's likely her race that knows of me. It's ominous, but better a faraway enemy than a close one.

So far, I've been lucky. I've met those capable of helping me. Earl saved my life when we fought those bandits. Virgil and Vernon saved me many times, just as Johnny did. Heath, Sacate, and Earl rescued me after the battle at Rustbank. Even the Bloody Palm and its anger have been helpful.

But were there any better ways to fight than with pure and utter recklessness? Yes. There had to have been. I just need to find them. So in the future, I no longer fight like that, at least not all the time. There are times when my brand of recklessness is needed, as Johnny has expressed, but I need to know when to determine those.

Simply becoming tougher, faster, or stronger will not cut it. I need to be better.

So, that fight with the Ratbeak. It surprised me, and when I turned around, I panicked. That should never happen, the second part at least. Ambushes are not something I can remove, but I can change my attitude. Calmness is needed under any circumstance to think and overcome the obstacle presented.

Then, when it attacked me, I fumbled and failed at stabbing it with my knife. That should not happen, at least not in the way it did. My stab was shallow, and there was no follow-through as the creature barreled at me.

Eleanor showed me how to wield a dagger correctly. Swift and short movements that aim for the most vital parts only. If you cannot reach a critical organ, you grapple and stab while subduing.

Instead of backing up and showing weakness that earned me several wounds, I should have pushed forward and stabbed it in the neck. Then again and again until it died. In that way, sure, I would have gotten hurt, but it would have been far less than running away for the Lily and getting mauled to all hell.

So that's how to change that situation. Be more aggressive, less cowardly. But that is not always the answer. That is only the answer because the Ratbeak was weak. In a case like Alexos, Edmund and I should have run, made a deal, or done anything to make it out alive. There is, frankly, not much I can do to fix that one. Some dice just come up with snake eyes.

The fight afterward, however? Against the trio of Hunters? That could have been handled far better. The second I realized talking would not work, violence should have been enacted. They had an apparent tracker, so there was no way I could run away. I should have ignored the big guy and focused on the archer before turning to the woman. In that way, I could have won without ever being knocked out.

Better-placed stabs, parries, or dodges would have let me win that fight, and I see that now. Instead of trading wounds, I should have been doing the previous, or at the very least, making sure the injuries I take aren't in crucial locations. A whole portion of Eleanor's book talks about how to get hurt and the best places to take a wound in exchange for dealing damage.

The small place in your stomach where the appendix is. You might bleed a lot, but the appendix is a nigh-useless organ.

Dodge, at all costs, damage to tendons, joints, and muscles. That is something I've neglected, and it has cost me. Eleanor says it's better to take damage to fleshy areas instead of those that give you strength. Their shoulders, back, thighs, and bottoms are her go-to's. These places affect your performance little if done right and have a middling effect on your survival capability.

Finally, her last suggestion for getting hurt is simply to not. One must train their body to the absolute limit of mortality. The human body has inherent limitations that can only be crossed by those lofty Angels as their Sigils and souls merging gives their body a bit more range. Every muscle, every bone, and every tendon must be perfect. In this way, your body will dodge on its own before you even know you have to.

Instead of getting my heel cut which drastically slowed me or fatal wounds that were bleeding me out, I should have moved enough to get hurt in different locations if I couldn't dodge entirely. In her words, "Fight as you imagine a demon would.".

Then, later on, when I fought with those fake Hunters in that graveyard of bones, I simply should not have approached. Should the Hunters be a threat, the situation was not one we could risk. Had we decided to move around them that day, I'd still have an arm that was mine.

And instead of walking up to them, we could have watched from afar and gauged who they were. And when it was indicated that they were Outlaws, I could have ambushed them, ending the threat of at least a few of the most dangerous among their group. That would have substantially decreased the danger.

Many of these situations float to me within this Tranquility. Dozens, in fact. Each of them, I come up with a better way to go about it or how I could have fought better that would get me hurt less.

And as my mind runs through the most recent fight, the one with Edmund, I pause. That one… I knew I should not do it. I knew it. And yet… I did. The only thing there I can honestly say that, in retrospect, I'd do differently is to wait. I'd wait for Johnny and the rest to show up before fighting so I could be healed sooner.

I needed that fight. Truly. It was cathartic despite, in the end, being a failure. It showed me that I won't always win. But, sometimes, there are things worse than losing. And so, with defeat in mind, I pull back the Ether of Tranquility and bring myself back to the world.

Still the same man, but a better one. The same faults will no longer be repeated. That, I promise. A God doesn't fail, right? And if they do, it's only because of other Gods. If I want to be one of them, I need to start improving fast enough to never make the same mistake. Eventually, there will no longer be any mistakes to make.

Gods don't make mistakes.

And neither will I, eventually.