“…that I’m very grateful to you for taking me in.” John gave his best smile. Athalia wasn’t impressed. “Did I mention how beautiful you look today?”

The next thing he knew, her hand was pressing against his neck and he felt the pain flaring up again.

She clicked her tongue. “Damn it John, why didn’t you come to me to get yourself healed? It’s almost like you want to be in pain.”

“No pain, no gain,” he joked, forgetting that she’d have no idea of what he meant.

“That’s foolish, getting hurt won’t make you cultivate faster. Now stop acting like a child, you’re practically a man already.” She extended her hand to the side and a large blob of water floated up from inside an open barrel. It flew towards John and splashed against his neck before reshaping itself back into a blob that covered the bruised area. After working the spell on his neck, she did the same to the side of his face.

“Thank you.”

“You can thank me by coming to me next time.” Athalia willed the water towards a bowl held by Clare. The old woman carried it away to dispose of the water, though John wondered if she wasn’t actually taking a chance to leave. “Is this because you haven’t broken through yet? I told you that it takes time. I, for instance, spent almost three years as a tenth level Fighter before becoming a Crusader.”

John nodded along, already having heard the same story before. His cultivation had been going well, and he managed to become a tenth level Fighter in almost two years. Athalia praised him for his progress, particularly remarkable considering that he was splitting his efforts by dual cultivating. For a time, John thought the same.

As time passed though, and he remained stuck as a Fighter, he couldn’t help thinking that he wasn’t cultivating fast enough. The necklace acted as a constant reminder of what his mother once strived to achieve: Paladin and Warlock realms before thirty years of age.

Maybe she would have managed to do it if she’d had more time. Maybe whatever was inside the Secret Realm would’ve been powerful enough to revert the course of the war and protect her home. Alas, she didn’t have the time. Her home was destroyed, everyone she knew and loved either dead or enslaved.

She was long dead now, and John found himself fretting if he’d ever manage to turn her last wish into reality.

“Maybe I’m not pushing myself hard enough,” he muttered. “I know that I’m close to breaking through, I can feel it.”

“John...” Athalia placed a hand on his shoulder. “You already work yourself too hard. The only thing you seem to care about is training. We all need a rest once in a while. Keep going like this, then I worry that you’ll break one day.”

John nodded along, not because he agreed, but because he knew that arguing would only waste more time.

Athalia smiled. “Good. Now, finish eating then come with me. There’s something I want to show you.”