“No shit, talk about Flesh Sculpting! You really are a natural. You know that, Eric?” Sam declared, gazing with genuine admiration at the massive wall of toughened flesh they could now use for their training.

Eric grinned. “It helps if you have an Extra Storage Space tied to your soul, and I have dozens, maybe hundreds of hours I’ve spent practicing shaping and infusing bodies with whatever energy allows me to shape them like clay in my mind’s eye. I might not know how to animate them quite yet, but shaping them is almost effortless for me now.”

His friend frowned. “That isn’t straining your cultivation base is it?”

Eric frowned thoughtfully. “No, I don’t think it is. But I’ll definitely keep an eye on that. No serious necromancy until my channels are in pristine shape, and I can see exactly what it does, if anything, to my channels and nodes… like arterial plaque, if you will. Who knows? Maybe I’ll be able to burn it clear with every good cultivation workout in the years to come. But for now, this is the extent of it. A nice big punching bag of toughened necrotic flesh as hard as boiled rawhide, covering half the wall.

Sam grinned. “The perfect training mat.” He then got in what Eric assumed was a boxer’s stance, left foot forward, right arm held close to the body, though held high enough to block any shot to the face, Sam’s left arm was partly extended, with both elbows tucked at the sides.

“Now watch what I do carefully. This is a basic jab,” Sam said, throwing a straight line punch at the slab of toughened meat before him, wincing only slightly when his fist hit. “Shit, that meat is tough!”

Eric grinned. “Yup. Tough enough grip an arrow, though I don’t know about lead shot. I think I need greater lizard hide, or at least the scales of that spirit crock I fought earlier, but yeah. I can sort of infuse the beasties in storage with enough necromantic energy to make the flesh really tough, like well-treated rawhide. The drawback is that, even if I can safely store living and undead crap at the same time, once I start infusing even the tiniest bit of extra necromantic oomph into the cadavers, any fresh meat I have in storage also transforms. It’s malleable as clay in my mind’s eye, but it looses all edibility.” chuckled softly. “Good thing those goblin assassins went after me. They left me all sorts of cool toys and a great place to store some meat we can actually eat!”

Sam smirked. “You should have told me before I tried to punch that fucker. Anyway, that was a basic jab. This is what cross looks like, and this is an uppercut.”

The youth then proceeded to show Eric the basic punches in any boxer’s armamentarium, stressing that it wasn’t about knowing a dozen different strikes, but knowing how to deliver a handful of punches with grace and devastating power. So too, a boxer could get out of a lot of traps and minimize most damage just by mastering the art of slipping past blows, ducking under power shots, and blocking an opponent’s jabs.

“So yeah, that’s a quick rundown on the basics.” Sam chuckled softly. “It’s a lot, I know. But don’t worry, we have weeks to go over this, we’ll take it nice and slow...” Sam’s eyes widened with surprise when Eric did his best to mimic the moves they had gone over, at first finding the blows a bit awkward, but soon finding his rhythm. Not with the defensive blocks and parries, not yet, knowing that would take time and plenty of sparring. But the basic punches? Ericwas determined to take full advantage of his meat slab and at least master the moves well enough not to make a fool of himself.

His first few punches were tentative, looking Sam’s way after each jab, earning a snort. “You’re doing fine, Eric. No one can master this shit in a day. Just keep hitting it, let it feel natural. Once it becomes instinctive, then we can tweak it.”

Eric nodded, and proceeded to do just that. His quick snapping jabs were starting to leave definite dents in the toughened rawhide wall he had continued to modify, now a good two feet thick, with bone hooks locking into the floor and ceiling, assuring it would stay in place. He peppered his straight punches with hooks and uppercuts as as he began to feel increasingly comfortable with the movements, shooting quick looks Sam’s way, hoping he wasn’t doing it all wrong and making a fool of himself, increasingly worried to find his friend’s bemused smile turning to an enigmatic frown he couldn’t quite parse.

So Eric just shook his head, accepting that this was his first lesson, and it would take time before he was even skilled enough to make use of any feedback. Right now he figured he should just focus on gaining familiarity with the basic series of punches, increasing his comfort with the movements, making sure his feet were appropriately spread apart, instinctively mirroring a saberman’s stance, and finding it quite natural as he continued to pound the pell.

Before long, he felt the tension in his shoulder’s easing, no longer feeling quite so self-conscious. He was sure he was doing it all wrong, but he was increasingly having fun, and couldn’t deny the heady rush of pounding leather hard slabs of meat with what was now an absurd degree of strength. He refused to whale at it like an idiot, however, making sure every once in awhile to leap back, as if mirroring a real defensive strike, maybe darting under an imagined swordman’s slash, and testing his balance as best he could.

By the time he stopped to take a break it was evening once more, and he found himself feeling both invigorated and famished, delighted by the message flashing across his mind’s eye.

Congratulations! For successfully learning the rudiments of an actual bare-handed martial art, Unarmed Combat has improved by 2 points! Now you know how to do so much more than just keep your balance and pound in the skull of a foe you tripped and disarmed with the help of your own weapon!

“Awesome! I think I’m finally getting somewhere. What’s say we cook up some pork chops, buddy?” Eric’s enthusiasm quickly waned with the odd look Sam was giving him.

“Sam?”

The youth shook his head, an odd look of awe and frustration upon his features. “What the hell, Eric?”

“What the hell what?”

“The way you moved!”

Bulging eyes was not a good look for his otherwise handsome friend, Eric thought, as the youth gave a bitter chuckle, shaking his head.

“If only you could see yourself, Eric! The way awkward punches that still hit so hard that the entire damned slab of meat shuddered with the blow became lightning-fast jabs that would have done my coach proud. The way you went from awkward brawler I halfway fancied being able to slam to the ground with the varsity wrestling I took began delivering smooth, perfectly balanced strikes that would knock me out cold, if that fucking fist of yours actually connected with my jaw. And those right hooks! Shit, Eric. Just look at the wall! You fucking cratered it!” His friend gave a tired shake of his head. “What the hell, Eric? Just how strong are you?”

Eric shrugged. “Strong enough. And we both know that I do sort of have an edge over most beginners.”

This earned a jaded eyebrow. “And what advantage would that be, ‘gifted young master?’”

“Ha ha,” Eric smirked. “But seriously. I think it has to do with my Finesse stat. Because Quickness might be the most valuable physical stat, so long as you have the Strength to make full use of your speed, because if a saber feels feather-light, of course you can whip it about as easily as a smallsword. But Finesse has to be up there as well. Because it’s more than just hitting accurately, striking smoothly. It’s all about harmony, perfect coordination, your body moving precisely how you want it to, and maybe you can then intuitively sense the most efficient way to move your body as well. And if the average coordination is ten, and a well-coordinated person learns quicker, well, I do sort of have an advantage.”

Sam gazed at Eric for long moments, before holding out his hand. “Form a party with me, Eric. I want to see your physical stats.”

Eric blinked, gazing at his young friend for long moments. “Seriously?”

His friend rolled his eyes, not hesitating to cut his palm. “I’ll spend the miniscule amount of blood-magic for the link. Your precious fragile cultivation base won’t be jeopardized.”

Eric winced, sensing the bite behind his friend’s snarky comment. “Really, Sam, it’s not a big deal...” He sighed when a hard-eyed Sam stuck out his hand.

Eric locked gazes with his young friend and slowly clasped it.

Samuel Orwell wishes to form a party with you! (Half of all experience earned from kills will be split with other party members. Interparty training bonus will be in effect. You will be able to see Basic Physical Stats of all party members.) Do you accept?

You have chosen yes!

And in the blink of an eye, Eric sensed a very rudimentary character sheet from his friend, flashing the young man a relieved smile. Because if his hunch was right, if he could get a sense of a character sheet even before his friend dared the pod, that meant that his survival was all but guaranteed. Or at least, that’s what he suspected.

Though the look his friend was returning was anything but pleased.

No.

Oddly enough, his young friend was gazing at him with horrified disbelief, and Eric couldn’t fathom why.

Samuel Orwell

Basic Necromantic Affinity Detected.

Basic Bloodmagic Affinity Detected.

Basic Cultivation Affinity Detected. (Meridian configuration Undefined.)

Class: None.

Cultivation Pathway: None

Physical Characteristics

Strength – 12

Vitality – 11

Finesse – 13

Quickness – 12

Appearance – 13

“You seem pretty fit,” Eric acknowledged. “According to my Interface, You’re above average in all your physical stats, and naturally coordinated as well.” Eric winced when his friend’s eyes glittered with a dangerous light, raising up his hands in mock surrender. “Dude, I’m not sure why you’re giving me that look! If anything, the news is fucking fantastic. Don’t you see? Even my System interface is acknowledging your basic stats, so that means you have to have Pod potential. You must! Better yet, it’s acknowledging both Necromantic and Bloodmagic affinity.”

Eric flashed an encouraging smile. “I knew I was right to categorize them as separate things in my head. I mean, one’s dealing with the power of life and the other death, even if one can enhance the other, and they’re both Unique Cultural Paths to power that the System severely restricts, save for us natives. Hell, those affinities might be our ace in the whole as far as establishing ourselves on our own world goes. Best of all, you being here is hardly fruitless! The cultivation book you’ve been hitting your head against at least as much as I was? Keep reading it. It’s worth it. Because even my Interface acknowledges that you have something! Whether or not it’s a standard 7 meridian configuration, you have have at least some potential as a cultivator.”

Sam’s outright glare turned to something close to wonder. “Wait, Eric, are you serious? You saw all that?” He licked hopeful lips. “Jeez, I had hoped, hoped so fucking much I had the potential for something. I mean… I know I do,” He said with a wry grin. “I proved it to myself, raising that porker when I first got here! But I had hoped, well, that I was more than a one trick pony who didn’t dare try to ascend like an adventurer… or a cultivator.”

He flushed, lowering his head. “I know grandfather thinks I’m taking these insane risks and working so hard to advance in my craft as a pure mortal because I’m looking to grab both an Advanced Necromancy Class and a Necromancer Profession, all without wasting any time as a Conscript. But honestly? Between you and me? All bullshit aside? I’m just scared shitless of those pods.”

Eric gently squeezed his friend’s shoulder. “I totally get that. Believe me. Anyone whose seen what happens to the people who don’t make it… yeah, unless you’re crazy, desperate, or deluded, you’d be an idiot not to have second thoughts. Even if the ability to use a wand or raise a zombie means that you ‘should’ be okay, you’d still be surrendering your autonomy, agency, and hell, your very brain to an alien vegetative pod that seems to like turning 90% of us into zomboid vegetative horrors. And it isn’t like you can reroll your life or get a refund if the pod decides it wants to kill you anyway, for whatever reason.”

A truly anxious-looking Sam forced himself to meet Eric’s gaze. “Do you think you can, well, help me? And um… Sorry I was giving you the stink-eye a minute ago.”

“No problem!” Eric said with a smile. “Look, we know that your cultivation book is a bit elitist. I mean, why the hell is it calling different configurations noble versus commoner paths anyway? And even if that book only has charts for 4 of them, who the hell says that’s all that’s out there? Give it another shot. For all we know, you have the blood of dragons in your veins!”

Samuel chuckled. “Or maybe the blood of goblins.”

Eric shrugged. “Maybe.” He gave his friend a curious look. “Is that why your grandfather was so willing to give those asshole conniving goblins trying to fuck us all over like payday lenders a chance to make an honest deal? Did their people once inhabit Earth?”

Sam smirked. “Hardly.” He held up the cultivation tome. “It’s because of this book. This is the real deal, Eric. An actual cultivation tome that they traded with us. Not cheap, mind you, but it seemed like such a show of good faith. They gave us an artifact holding keys to power absolutely no other settler, invader, or trader would share with us.”

Sam flashed a bitter smile. “Shit, Eric, now I’m feeling almost as cynical as you are. Because all most traders wanted to sell us were prefabricated pieces of crap, potions that got you as high as any illicit drug, probably addictive as all fuck, and yeah, an impressive selection of any number of tents, premade houses or weapons, but the key theme was they were all completely manufactured. Using them would teach us nothing about providing for ourselves… just have us dependent on their own shit. And since it was all good quality, as much as I hate to say it...”

Eric nodded. “It discourages us from using what we can actually build. Again, like early traders plying Native Americans with booze that was poison and rifles they couldn’t make themselves. Leaving them both chemically and technologically dependent, and that’s just the least of the twisted shit that went down.”

Sam sighed and nodded. “Exactly.”

Eric gave his friend a sad look. “Is that why you gave me the hostile glare?” He swallowed. “Look, I know we live in controversial times, but...”

Sam quickly shook his head. “No, Eric. That has nothing to do with you. At all.” He sighed. “If anything, you’re one of the few willing to fight, to stand up not just for yourself, or your guild, but for humanity as a whole.” He flashed a rueful smile. “From what little you told me, anyway. Hell, I’d put a fucking hero sticker on your back if you weren’t such a snarky, cynical bastard and the farthest thing from a shiny paladin.”

Eric cracked his knuckles, flashing a fierce smile. “Good. I’m glad you understand. Because when it comes to those assholes goblins that tried to have me assassinated when they failed to trap your family in debt... When it comes to those orcs that happily threw my sister into the fire pits along with countless others, laughing while countless innocent people were burned alive, I’m the farthest thing from a paladin, and I will show them no fucking mercy.”

Eric’s gaze hardened. “Let me be clear. There sure as hell isn’t going to be any redemption arc in the story of my life, Sam. I’m taking them out. All of them. I will purge our world clean of their filth, even if I have to flood the whole damned continent with their blood!”

Sam nodded in fierce agreement. “Good! Because they are the invaders who chose to be here, Eric. They chose to kill our people. They’re not the unlucky offspring five generations removed who have been living peacefully with us for a hundred plus years. These are the actual fuckers raping and killing our women and children right fucking now. And my family isn’t stupid, Eric.”

Sam clenched his fists, glaring off into the distance. “We had our suspicions. We had hoped it was just paranoia. We were actually desperate enough to give the Goblins a fair shake. And boy did they play us like a harp from hell, enticing us with this cultivation manual. But the shit that went down with grandfather proved their intentions like nothing else. So by all means, please use your absolutely absurd fucking stats to cleanse them all in blood and flame. And you’d better believe that as soon as I can pick a class and boost my stats, I’m joining you! Because I might have been a chickenshit coward about the pods before. But after surviving all this crap, I’m done with being afraid.”

Eric peered at his friend thoughtfully for long moments, surprised by the fire in the boy’s gaze, feeling his own sudden heat calm to gentle reflection. Because there were no foes to vanquish in this cave, just a boy not that much younger than him who could use a mentor, and most of all, a friend.

Preferably someone who wasn’t on a hair trigger, brimming with bitter hatred and unprocessed trauma like Eric himself was, but one made due with what one had.

He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Is that why you were giving me the evil eye, earlier? Because I have a class?”

Sam snorted, their shared intensity thawing with a bemused grin, the atmosphere lightening to something more positive and hopeful. Which suited Eric just fine. Calm focus suited him much better while walking a cultivator’s path, after all, than that simmering hatred he presently had no outlet for. Better just to embrace this sanctuary and get everything he could from it. Later, when it was time to go, he’d embrace the fury that had carried him so far once more. But for now? Serenity, mentorship, and savoring his own potential as a cultivator was the path that lay before him, and it was one that he was eager to embrace, even if Sam’s wry laughter did make him flush.

“Are you kidding Eric? It’s not because you have a class… it’s because your stats are so fucking absurd that it’s beyond belief!”

Eric winced, because his friend was right. He was now equal in power to any level 30 he had encountered at the Contender’s Conference in Freetown, just looking at raw stats alone, not even factoring in the advantages of weapons he could summon forth and alternate in the blink of an eye, the sweet, sweet combination of Flame Essence, soul bound resources, seized weapons of war, and the incredible versatility his ES Space allowed.

He flashed a fierce smile, thinking of the countless territories he had absolutely every intention of claiming for himself, surrendering only when he had drunk deep from the chalice of their endless potential. Before blessing those regions with something even greater than what he had claimed for himself. Because for all that he had savored a mighty boon in claiming Gilton, he was still able to catalyze dreams into reality and transform that territory into a farming mecca, and had happily done just that.

Of course, a quick look at Sam’s furrowed brow and he quickly smoothed his perhaps too gleeful expression from his features with thoughts of future conquest and dominion, instead focusing on the boon they both had access to.

“You’re right, Sam. Despite all the shit I went through, I really benefited from a handful of fortuitous encounters. And that’s the thing. A lot of those encounters, and character boosts, are what I made of them.” He slowly drew his blade. “Take my saber, for instance. Anyone who trains it up to Journeyman level will get a sweet 3 point stat boost. And anyone who can raise that to Adept level enjoys a whopping 9 bonus points!”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Shit, no kidding! Why don’t more people work there asses of bringing their combat skills to Journeyman level?”

Eric smiled. “That’s the question isn’t it? Part of it is discipline and hard work, and yes, having a talent with it. And maybe here is where my mother, psycho as she is, did my sister and maybe especially me the good turn of training me pretty hardcore with a handful of weapons not over the course of six months, but four years. So for me, the basics were ingrained by a trainer far more skilled than any Hollywood extra had a right to be. That, and my absurd Finesse, means that everything really started to click when I got serious, and pretty much very moment since I escaped the pod, I dedicated almost every waking hour I wasn’t fighting for my life to training.”

Sam grinned. “Kind of like Grandpop making sure I that had a kick-ass background in Necromancy.”

Eric nodded. “Pretty much. And the best thing is, I’m pretty sure those weapon mastery boons are open to everyone. As long as they’re willing to make a major investment in Finesse, and maybe a couple years of dedicated training, at least with a few weapons, before combat as a whole becomes second nature to them.”

“Because right now the guild corps are skilled at delving in groups and taking out specific handfuls of monsters in tandem, and all of that with solid Apprentice level weapon tiers. But that’s not the same as years of dedicated sparring,” Sam noted.

“Exactly,” Eric grinned. “And yes, thanks to my family, I did have some unique training opportunities. But I could have totally slacked off. I could have put in a half-assed effort and spent my entire day screwing around online. The point is, I didn’t.” He chuckled ruefully. “Even if the games I did stay up way too late playing every night did inspire me, that and my growing insecurity with how bad I was at acting compelling me to at least be good at something. So however insecure my motive, I still found I had a knack for taking my opponent’s measure in sparring with both saber and spear and later multiple styles of wide-bladed polearms. It all just sort of came to me pretty naturally, like an extension of everything else I had learned.”

“Including how to throw a punch,” Sam said with a wry smile. “Even though you didn’t know anything about boxing except how to throw a right hook, until I showed you the basics.”

“For which I’m grateful to have had the opportunity to learn from you,” Eric said. “And that’s the point I’m trying to make. It’s all about opportunity. And right here, right now, trapped in a cultivator’s paradise so saturated with Fire Qi that you can feel it like warm shafts of sunlight caressing your soul, in possession of a precious cultivation manual our enemies provided us, trying to get us to lower our guard before going in for the kill, we’re right now living and breathing one of those Fortuitous Encounters every adventurer dreams of stumbling across!”

Sam’s cynical smirk slowly transformed to a look of awe, shivering in ways that had nothing to do with a chill. “Jeez, Eric, when you put it like that...why the hell am I bitching about your good fortune when I can make my own?” He flashed a sheepish smile. “And here you are, doing everything you can to help me. Thank you, Eric. I mean that.”

Eric grinned. “You’re more than welcome. Now quit wasting time talking to me, and check out all the charts. Maybe an unexpected one will pop out for you. Hell, maybe just watching me cultivate, since we’re now party-linked, will be all it takes for you to sense the flow of spiritual energy through my meridian channels, weak as it is. Maybe it will be enough to help you cultivate as well.”

Sam’s eyes suddenly widened. “Shit, I’m using blood magic to establish the link! You don’t think...”

Eric frowned thoughtfully, closing his eyes for long moments and sensing the gentle flow of Spiritual Energy through channels still filled with waste, around major gateway blockages that at least had cracks running completely through them. But all of it, thankfully, still allowed for the free flow of Qi, even if it was presently just a trickle.

“Honestly, I don’t think we’ll need more than a few minutes of cycling to clean out whatever miniscule strain linking ourselves might have caused.” He flashed his friend an encouraging smile. “So let’s just stay linked as a party. I’m going to be focusing on slow, steady cultivation for the next few days, doing all I can to strengthen my channels and foundation before burning free some more waste and blockage, so there’s plenty of time to watch me. I just hope you don’t find it too, well, boring.”

To this Sam adamantly shook his head. “Dude, you just found the key to unlocking a whole new path of power! If every rank you ascend is giving you a stat boost like a Conscript, or even better...”

“Four points per Rank, not 3. So it’s between Conscript and Warrior in terms of potency unlocked.”

“But still!”

Eric grinned. “I know. Pretty awesome, right? Now, enough talking! Go over those charts, see if any chart, or… hell, any section of any chart, matches your own Meridian Channel configuration. If so? Let the cultivating commence!”

His young friend chuckled gamely then immediately started staring intently at the chart while Eric closed his eyes and savored the gentle feel of warm shafts of Fire Qi warming his body and soul, seeming to pass right through the thick stone walls of their cavern. He happily embraced the gentle flow of Qi massaging his rapidly healing channels as one hour flowed to the next, sensing his Spiritual Energy already flowing with increasing ease past what were still mostly blocked passages, and he couldn’t fight the sense that even now, with a single afternoon’s cultivation, he was ready to embrace the essence of flame once more.

But, remembering the gentle words of wisdom given to him earlier that day, he deliberately held back. Even if his visualized sensei might be as much a figment of his own imagination as real, with no more counsel to give than the tidbits of wisdom Eric had gleaned from dozens of cultivation novels, the advice still made sense.

Pace himself.

It was far better to go at a moderate pace and assure a strong foundation, than to push too fast and cause himself irreparable harm.

And if his sense of his own strength was accurate, his System-enhanced physique was allowing him to bend the rules in glorious ways, such that a single night’s sleep, or at his Vitality, a single hour’s rest, would completely restor injuries that might take a mortal days or weeks to heal also meant that any meridian strain would be healed in very short order.

But he couldn’t be sure.

So three days it was.

He had sensed somehow that that was the barest minimum even one of his daring should spend between using even the finest cultivation pills or, in his case, tapping into his own Fire Essence. Whereas for beginning cultivators without his gifts, the space between such extreme forms of cleansing should be measured in weeks, at the very least.

So he would spend 3 days between Fire Qi sessions.

At least for now.

And even if he felt indescribably good and completely refreshed after a single day of gentle cultivation, what was the harm? Just like with his morning weapon training sessions and his evening boxing practice, he was honing his skills, his familiarity with his tools, his chosen path, regardless of whether or not the System acknowledged every training session with a percentage point gain or two, or not.

The important part was that he was polishing his technique, and that power would come with time.

It was a resolve that left him in a curious state of equanimity that bordered on bliss as he continued to meditate and cultivate, sensing with increasing clarity that gentle flow of Qi through his channels, through his soul, closing his eyes and feeling like he himself was just an extension of the ebb and flow of life that he could now sense from the forest so vibrant with fiery Spirit Fruit. And it was nothing to stretch his growing spiritual senses and feel the flow of water from countless streams feeding the forest like a grand network of arteries and capillaries, or perhaps meridian channels, sensing as well the play of all five elements in perfect balance, perfect harmony, for all that Fire still rose ascendant.

Yet a vital balance was still maintained within the natural order, the environmental cycle of Qi. All that excess Fire Qi and the essence of Vitality itself was stored within countless spirit fruit hanging rich and succulent upon the bows of a peach grove that was as vast and wide as an entire state, Eric sensed with sudden clarity, awed anew at the size and grandeur of this tiny little pocket realm that was, in its own way, as real as the world he had left behind.

At least for a time.

Skillcheck made! You have successfully saturated your Meridian Channels with the Essence of Flame.

Meridian Channels have saved versus rupture! You are suffering Mild Meridian Strain.

Congratulations! Unformed (Trash Tier) Cultivation Technique has ascended to Basic Fire Cultivation Technique!

Basic Fire Cultivation Technique has achieved Apprentice Rank!

You have successfully achieved Rank 3 as a Basic Fire Cultivator!

Better Qi flow aligned to Flame grants you an additional +2 to Strength, Quickness, Vitality, and Spiritual Reserves!