Chapter 39: Chapter 39 - Before Silver
I gathered a small pile of branches and dry bark in the clearing’s center. The flint and steel sparked, hissed, died.
Again. Again. The twigs caught once, then sputtered into nothing. I tried another angle, cursed under my breath, kept at it.
WHAT IS IT WITH ME AND FIRE?!
A few dozen failures later, fire finally bloomed. Small. Flickering. Unimpressive---but it was mine.
"Efficient," I muttered dryly, lips curling at my own expense.
The flame grew steady, feeding on bark and shredded fibers. Soon a fire crackled, pushing warmth into the damp air. The smell of smoke cut through the rot of blood.
I stacked thick cuts of Shadestalker meat on a makeshift spit, letting them sear slowly over the coals. Blackened fat dripped, hissing when it struck the fire. The scent was heavy.
My stomach growled.
But training came first.
Downward Diagonal Slashes.
I went out to an open space and set my stance wide, axe raised above my right shoulder. The first swing came down clean across, cutting air with the faintest of whistles.
[Invalid]
Again.
[Invalid]
And again.
[Downward Diagonal Slashes: 392/500]
The repetitions soon blurred together as I fell into rhythm. My shoulders burned like hell. Forearms too. The pain spread along my ribs and down my back until pain was all there was. And yet, compared to the mind-bending levels of injury I had had to endure less than an hour before, this ’ache’ was barely noticeable.
Numbers clicked forward in my head, slow and mechanical.
Four hundred eighty. Four hundred ninety. Five hundred.
All the tens of invalid reps between them hadn’t even registered in my mind.
By the time I dropped the axe head into the dirt, my breaths were ragged, and my arms were dead, the smell of meat taunting me from the fire.
I stumbled over and collapsed beside it, dragging a slab from the spit with my bare hands. The searing heat felt more like lukewarm water over my palms, thanks to [Fire Resistance X]
The meat’s crust was charred black, crisp enough to crackle between my fingers, yet the slab was soft in my hands, juices pouring, almost like it would fall apart if I just pulled ever so lightly.
I gulped down saliva, anticipation building, then bit in.
My teeth sank through that smoky crust into the tender flesh beneath.
The taste...
Smoky. Buttery. Divine.
Beneath the crisp bite was a depth of flavor I hadn’t tasted from hyena or wolf---something richer, almost sweet, like the meat itself carried something more within its fibers. Every chew left warmth lingering in my throat.
My body drank it in, exhaustion receding faster than it had any right to. By the time I’d devoured half the slab, my arms felt light again. Energy surged, pulling me back upright.
But I kept going.
I could afford it after all. With not enough storage all this Crisis-Class meat would just go to waste anyway. But I still had to make sure I kept track of time for the quest.
[Time Remaining: 11 hours 46 minutes]
Right then, movement tugged at the edge of my vision.
The cub.
It crept closer, its posture cautious, nose twitching at the scent of cooking meat. Golden eyes flicked from the spit to me, then back again.
I stared at it for a long moment. Feeding a beast its own kind was...wrong. I knew that, instinctively. But the cub didn’t look away. It just stood there, looking back and forth between the meat and myself.
I sighed.
"You...can’t have that," I said, hands waving around, unsure how to communicate with it, "They’re...like you."
Its head tilted a little, clearly not having understood a word I said.
"Haah. Wait. Just...wait."
I pulled out the cubed hyena meat from my inventory, then the pan from my pack, and put them over the fire.
The cub padded over curiously, watching as I sparingly seasoned the meat with some salt and pepper.
The cubes cooked relatively fast on the pan.
And as soon as the spice rub had crusted up into a thin layer of char on the meat, I took them off the fire, and pushed the large pan over to it.
"There. For you."
It looked down at the cubed meat, up at me, then back down again. Its head bent low, sniffing the pan once, and that was all it took for the small beast to drill its snout down into the pan, chewing with greedy little snaps of its jaws.
I watched it eat. My lips twitching, unbidden, until I realized I was smiling.
That’s enough time wasted.
I finished off the slab of meat in my hands, put the next slab up to cook on the spit, but drew the line there.
Training first.
Picking my axe up off the ground, I resumed training, this time starting on Upward Diagonal Slashes.
I took up the form, the axe’s blade facing away from me in something akin to a batting stance. And then I swung, up and to the left, across my body.
[Invalid.]
I had done hundreds of these yesterday, and while they weren’t difficult...
[Invalid.]
...they felt...awkward.
I wasn’t entirely sure how best to use it. The downward moving chops and slashes were intuitive, so was the horizontal slash, but this felt like it could only be used in very specific cases.
I tried to reason them out as I swung, using my experiences thus far to figure out situations in previous fights where I might have used them.
A rising cut could catch the underbelly of a beast mid-leap. Maybe it could hook beneath a limb to throw an opponent off-balance. I also saw it proving useful against a taller humanoid opponent, slipping between armor from waist to shoulder.
I don’t use this enough. I should.
I cut off the thought and kept swinging.
Sweat poured down my back. The axe grew heavier with every motion, handle slick in my hands. Still I pushed, the fire at my side spitting fat into the coals.
Swing. Swing. Swing.
When my muscles gave out again, I collapsed beside the fire, tearing into another steak.
It was even better than the last.
The hours blurred into a rhythm once again.
Train until collapse. Eat until strength returned. Repeat.
The cub lingered nearby, sometimes curled beside the mound of leaves where its mother lay, sometimes edging close to my fire, eyes always following me, occasionally whining and prodding my legs till I gave it more hyena meat.
A few hours later, the Standard Practice swings were finally completed, all 2500 of them. But then came the real test---Mana Channeled Practice.
Twenty Five swings in total. Twenty Five Channels. Twenty Five bouts of searing agony and paralysis.
I endured.
Over and Over, System Prompts informed me of my rapidly increasing Mana Strain Resistance.
The Fifteenth Swing, a mana-fueled downward diagonal slash, was what sent it over the edge.
[The Skill [Mana Strain Resistance II] has upgraded to [Mana Strain Resistance III].]
I collapsed yet again, gasping for air. Fifteen swings, plus the one swing during the battle with the Shadestalkers. Sixteen in total. That was what it took to go from Level 2 to Level 3 of this skill.
Is it multiples of 8..? Or is it doubling?
Level one to two had taken 8 uses.
Level two to three had taken 16 uses.
It was simple math, but I’d need to get one more level to confirm which pattern it was. Because there had to be some sort of pattern.
I didn’t have to bother with those patterns for the other Resistance Skills, because they would upgrade themselves in battle. But this one was wholly dependent on my training due to the paralysis.
I wonder how many levels I’ll need before that isn’t a problem...where there’s damage, but I still retain mobility. That’s the point at which this skill’s utility extends beyond being a one-use trump card.
It was the System that replied:
[Estimation: 50% Damage Negation required for continued functionality post-activation.]
Fifty percent. Ten Levels. {A/N at the end.}
I stared at the prompt, sweat stinging my eyes. Halfway to immunity. That was the line.
Then I’ll reach it before I step into Silver.
If I didn’t, I’d be useless against Crisis-Rank Beasts that fought with mana as easily as I swung an axe. I would lose my advantage if I continued to get paralyzed with every strike.
But how long would I be delaying my ascension to do that?
My thoughts wandered to the Four Crisis-Rank cores.
System. How much mana will I need, in total, to complete enough mana-channeled swings to upgrade Mana-Strain Resistance to Level 10?
[Request Acknowledged.]
[Calculating...]
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A/N: I realized I made a small mistake back when Axel decided his goals back in Chapter 30. Mana Strain Resistance gives 5% DMG Negation per level, so the skill has 20 levels in total, not 10. Therefore, for 50% negation, the number of levels required is 10 levels. Apologies for the mistake. If further clarification is needed, please let me know, so I can modify this note.
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