Stopping in the dim, canopy-filtered light of the morning, I considered heading back to ask the two Elders the question, but after a moment of contemplation, decided the issue was moot; I knew Anan – whoever he was – was still alive, or Xiournal would not have given me a job to do with him. What it did say however, was that they were likely in the Pinnacle stage, or the Foundation stage at the least to have survived for what was probably at least a thousand years. This raised questions about my involvement – asking somebody to protect, or contain a being more powerful than they were seemed to be a bad idea, but who was I to second guess the judgement of a being who was – for all intents and purposes – a god? Maybe I would gain some sudden, powerful insight into time and rocket my way to Foundation? As much as I liked that idea, I did not think it super-likely, as the integration of an Exemplar did not seem to be purely about knowledge, but of real understanding. I had to truly make the knowledge a part of me, like knowing where your hand is. And not just the theory of time, but of the way my little lotus-posed frog companion used it, manipulated it. It was going to take practice, and ironically, time.

Shaking my head free of my distraction, I re-focused and continued walking, looking for my friends. The trees and undergrowth were more sparse there than in the jungle proper, the vivacious plants held at bay by the continued passage of the thundering apes. It took me a while to find my companions, having to navigate around scattered groups of passed out apes, their great bodies forming hills of flesh and fur amidst the green. Luckily, they had not passed out near one of the groups, as doing so may have resulted in many tons of dense muscle rolling over them in their sleep. They did however seem to have become a little enthusiastic in their training bout, as both Cad and Riffa sported several fresh bruises; even Reff sported one high up on his right cheek. Of course, Darina was pristine, though she was just as unconscious as the others.

Not wanting to risk trying to shake them awake, given they were all trained fighters, I sat with my back against a giant tree and began to meditate, taking in the celebration - or what I could remember of it – and spinning the Experience into my Core to be converted into Praxis. As I sat, mindfully taking in the day before, I Focused, concentrating on my fingers, as snapping sparks jumped between them. It took a lot of effort to prevent the lightning from building everywhere in my body, diverting it only along those channels that lead to my fingers, but I thought it would be worth it, both in terms of my improving control and just in case it ever came up; I had read enough books and played enough games that I knew niche abilities usually paid off at some point.

After a few minutes of letting the electricity flow out of me I tapped into my Exemplar, just a tiny bit; I was trying to compress time around my fingers up without losing control, without everything happening in an instant. The direct power of being able to more finely control the ability like that was definitely lower compared to the explosive force my echo punches, but the general advantage of just being faster than everyone else was hard to pass up. In theory, if I fully integrated my Exemplar and completed my Path, my whole body might be able to operate within that instant instance, but I have heard enough people say that you should walk before you run, that I figured there was likely some truth in it, and working on my finesse was the only thing short of actual combat I could think of to push my understanding along.

Throttling the power was not easy, it seemed to want to default to a specific amount of compression, only diluted by the amount of space it had to cover, but in the hour or so I sat twinkling my fingers, I thought I just about managed to speed them up, though it may have been my imagination. With a sigh, I took a break, gazing over at my supine friends.

Letting my thoughts wander, I thought about the different forests I had visited since my reincarnation; there had been the peaceful, ancient seeming forest of the Everwood, the unsettling and unnatural chill and oppressive dark of the Black, and now the Sha Forest; I wondered how much of the world was covered in trees; at one point, most of my home world had been, before people started cutting them down to build and burn, and to make room for farming, but I wondered how different a world where most people did not need to eat, and where wood was unlikely to deter many creatures, might be different. I had seen the plains, or a portion of them, and the Blacksands, and they had been pretty vast. I wondered how much of the world I had seen, and how much more there was left to experience; I wanted to see it all, to walk every inch and breathe it in. Meet the various people, originally from this world and those from elsewhere.

As I sat thinking about the places I had visited, and the ones I was yet to, the people I had met and those I still might, my mind found its way to my meeting with Lucas and with a start I recalled the green crystal lock he had given me; he had said to call him when I was done with my quest, but it had completely slipped my mind until that point. Hesitating for a moment, unsure of the Paragon’s specific intentions, I considered the chance that he would simply abscond with me back to his world, but in the end, I decided it was unlikely. Slightly terse he may have been, and definitely used to be obeyed, but I did not think him the kidnapping type.

Decision made, I reached into one of the rings on my toes and withdrew the lock to rest sparkling on my palm, even in the dim light.

“Hello? Lucas? It’s me, uh, Hunter?”

I felt like a bit of an idiot speaking to a crystal, but that was what he had said, right? Or had he just said to take it out? I wished I knew more about the way these things worked; Walker had simply shown up when I had taken the dagger out. Receiving no answer, I sat for a few minutes looking around for a multi-hued portal to open, but as the minutes stretched on and nothing happened, I slipped the lock back into storage with a frown and went back to meditating.

*

***

*

By the time Cad, Reff and Riffa stirred, I had managed to increase the progress on my path to about two and a half percent, making it clear that I was on the right path when it came to advancing, at least for the moment. I had also taken out the lock half a dozen times, though there had been no change in it or the area around me.

“Morning! Have fun last night?”

I did not speak loudly; my new body may be seemingly immune to hangovers, but I had unfond memories of them from my previous live, and I had no interest in compounding that particular suffering. Despite my precaution, the sound of my voice caused the three to wince slightly; it also had the added effect of apparently waking the tiny apprentice up, as she stirred and sat up to gaze about with suspiciously clear eyes.

“Void’n blast ye, stop yer shoutin’, Sparky. By me Ma’s great wooden spoon, whatever was in that fruit’s gonna be addin’ a right wallop t’me Focus.”

“In carefully modulated tones, I fear I may vomit.” Reff’s voice was as low as I had ever heard it, not quit a whisper, given his size, but certainly as close to it as somebody his size could get.

“In dire warning, do not dare, brother. If you vomit, I will too.”

“Ugh, the nausea. I think I will also throw up.”

The other three seemed too pre-occupied with their own states to give Darina’s words more than cursory consideration, and commiseration, but I thought I noted a certain lack of authenticity to her words. I gave her my best suspicious look, and catching my eye she glared back at me before softening her face into a mask of misery and looking away quickly.

Not knowing what her game was, I chose not to push the matter further, instead turning my attention back to the wretched figures shielding their sensitive eyes from the few piercing shafts of sunlight.

“So, I’m sort of immune to hangovers, so I don’t know if healing pills work on them? Would you guys like healing pills? And water; I know water is good.”

“Healing an’ poison cleansing, me thinks, Sparky. Worry not, f’r I keep a generous stock for occasions such as these.”

Having said that, Cad reached out one hand, as if to offer them out, but seemed irritated when his hand was empty. HIs eyebrows drew together and tension gathered in his face, but after a moment a handful of round pills the size of thumbnail appeared in his palm. Offering them around, I watched as my friend tossed them back, along with a healthy quantity of water from their rings. Darina was glaring at me again around her flask as she swallowed, and I guessed that she had palmed the pills, desiring to continue her deception but not to the point of wasting medicine.

“Don’t you have some kind of resistance to booze, because of the whole, ‘add it to my breath’ thing, Cad?”

I had thought that his Focus worked by breaking substances down and re-producing them, but if that was the way it worked, he should not even be able to get drunk, so I was curious.

It took several moments before the former life of the party responded, though he was certainly looking less ragged by the time he did.

“Not th’first time, Sparky. Me body has t’ m’tabolise a thing, if I want to add it to me concoction. After that though, I can choose t’ignore the substance, ‘tis true.”

“Wow, that’s actually pretty useful. Have you taken a bunch of poisons, to become immune?”

“As appealin’ as that sounds, for me own sake, it’d make me breath a might toxic. T’would make it a fair bastard to practice with, and would pose far more ’v an issue for me allies.”

“You don’t get to choose what you breath?”

“Nope, all or nuttin.”

I thought about that for a moment, about how it must be quite a balance, to make it effective against enemies but not so dangerous that it affected allies. I’d be tempted to consume – and become immune to – everything I could as a defensive measure, even if that meant I could not always use it in a fight.

“But can’t it also get your allies drun-”

“That’s why you don’t absorb medicine, and have healing breath? You can’t choose, so you would be healing your enemies and your allies? I had been wondering.”

My question about getting his allies drunk on the battlefield was interrupted by Darina who understandably was keen on the potential healing uses his Focus could be put to.

“Aye, lass. I thought about it, at first, but healing meself and the enemy would generally result in me defeat. Take yerself, ye can heal through most injuries, and outlast most any bastard yet facing at ye level. But if ye had to heal ‘im as well, while he had his own power, ye’d be basically without any advantage, eh?”

The apprentice nodded slowly, her face thoughtful.

“That makes sense, and shows more intelligence than I had attributed to you. Perhaps you are less of a waste than I had given you credit for. Though, Hunter does raise a point; how do you prevent your allies from becoming drunk on your Focus?”

“Well, I mostly try to keep me distance, lass. 'Tis better t’breathe in a stray wisp of strong booze than ‘tis t’suck in a lungful o’ flesh-rot, as I’m sure ye’d agree?”

“With strong recall, given the state in which I woke, I am not so sure.”

“With strong admission, do not mislead, brother.”

Darina, Cad and I chuckled at the interplay, and even Reff cracked a smile, though Riffa seems unaware that Reff had been joking.

A wide smile still on my face, I turned back to Cad as the siblings began to bicker, another question having occurred to me.

“Wait, alcohol is just ethanol – or methanol, if you’re suicidal. Shouldn’t you only have been affected once, and how do you add other types?”

“Alchemy’s not chemistry, Sparky. There’s an intent imprinted on the Experience gathered by the ingredient. It’s like... like an Exemplar, out in th’world. It’s what it is, but what ye will as well, ye know? ‘Taint jus’ the thing I be absorbin’, but the intent as well. And th’intent is always different. Think o’ a party; one man on his own might find a thing funny, and expel a quick breath ‘n amusement, but a hundred men ‘n women findin’ th’same thing funny might crack their sides laughin’. It’s like that. I gather the intent to get a bein’ drunk, an’ a hundred such is better’n one.”

I thought about that; my only experience of people working together, towards a common goal, at least using magic, had been in the other world, where the sailors, or soldiers, or whatever had blasted the giant flying spider-thing to keep it at bay. I wondered if a set of cultivators, all aligning their Foci and an Exemplars with a specific intent could generate effects greater than the sum of their parts. It was a difficult thing to test; everyone I had met had been adamant that teach person’s cultivation was unique to them, personal at an intrinsic level. But the potential was there; maybe one day, a group of normal people could work together to being an Apex, and police the world themselves. That was mostly ideas from my old world encroaching though; other than the single, apocalyptic event, the Apexes seemed to be doing a good job.