The day was bound to be a busy one. We had to report Kuros's and Banan’s deaths to Silasenei, update Kila’s family on the new loan amount, continue our guerilla marketing campaign, research the requirements for renting a section of the Butchery’s plaza as the event space, figure out how we were going to deal with injuries, and so much more. It was overwhelming given that we only had about a month to plan.

I scrounged up paper and ink in preparation for writing up the ultimate To Do list. Except... except... Tegen was raring to get back to refining, and as a result, my team volunteered me—by unanimous consent of everyone but me—to join the battery brigade. Even my bodyguards joined in, the stern looks from Agath and Moon dampening my enthusiasm.

I had made them worry, and I’d been something of a lightning rod ever since arriving in Albei. It was probably for the best that I act in an advisory capacity to the event organizing, so I capitulated. But not without making sure they all understood that I was available to help.

Look, I understood that they humored me when acknowledging my offer, but a man had his pride, all right? I’d had to learn to be good at so many things since arriving on this world, and I finally saw the opportunity to shine at something I was already skilled at. You couldn’t blame a guy for trying.

So, I hung out with the refinement crew instead, alternating between feeding my qi to Yuki and meditating to recover it. The silver lining was that the process wasn’t boring. Yuki’s fascination with qi was contagious, and I frequently looked over their metaphorical shoulder as they worked.

They narrated as they went, and I admired the clever constructions that they’d developed—the series of pumps and valves that kept equilibrium within Tegen’s meridians. They were also experimenting with a pressure chamber that—if they managed to get it working—would refine qi over time. That was a promising bit of research.

The only caveats were that it required at least one already refined dantian as the source of the pressure and that it’d likely be a very slow process. On the order of years slow. Still, for people like—oh, let’s say Billisha, Aluali, and Bihei—who weren’t in a hurry—it’d be a good, non-resource-intensive solution.

Professor Yuki, indeed.

###

Weirdly, helping Tegen refine his qi was like being on a yoga retreat—it had that kind of vibe.

Yuki provided a master class in qi and its manipulation, and as the days passed, I felt my understanding of the energy increase by leaps and bounds. My Status didn’t update, but it didn’t need to for me to feel like I was accomplishing something.

The experience wasn’t all work and no play, either. I got into the inn’s kitchen a few times to show off dishes from my old world. I also arranged an outing to the Butchery’s market to look around. No shopping, though—not until our finances were in the black again. And finally, I made sure to stay in touch with my family in Voorhei. My experience of Albei had been hectic, so it was welcome to find the time for long conversations with each of them.

For the most part, though, the days passed in a qi-soaked blur of observation and meditation, and on the fifth evening, a chime resounded through Tegen’s body as their third-eye meridian fully refined. He and Yuki had done it—they’d both proven that it was possible to refine qi without my special circumstances.

We celebrated by the adults all getting drunk. Teila and I sat back that evening and watched in horror as Tegen dared Agath and Moon to beat him with their fists and as Haol fired arrows at Mumu so that she could catch them out of the air. Teila had to grab one arm, while I grabbed the other to keep him from using Spiral Pierce. Mumu complained that we were spoiling the fun, but we just ignored her.

The way my normally staid team cut loose, it was a good reminder they’d been under immense pressure and that they were still desperately grieving Inleio’s death. Also, Mumu and Haol were dealing in their own ways with becoming mankillers. I tried to be empathetic, but that ran thin by the third time Haol vomited on me.

###

The next morning, I gloated as I watched them struggle with their hangovers, and then I got right back to work—this time to help Tegen learn how to sense mana. The goal was Healing Water, which should be fine since it was technically Ikfael teaching him the spell.

Alas, the process didn’t go smoothly.

Ikfael had been able to sense mana for as long as she could remember, while my grasp of the energy came from the ritual she’d cast on me and Yuki got it because they could literally feel me doing it. Tegen had none of those things—not unless he was willing to permanently attach to Yuki.

We never gave him the option.

Tegen craved-needed-hungered for mana magic, and Yuki and I worried the temptation would overwhelm his normally good sense. Don’t misunderstand, there wasn’t anything wrong with having Yuki integrated with my body—I had no regrets in that regard—but a decision that important needed to be approached with a clear mind and heart.

So, we kept at it: casting spell after spell, trying different exercises, guided visualizations, and doing just about everything we could think of to increase his sensitivity to mana. None of us were experts, though.

I knew one, Aslishtei, but she’d pissed me off. Plus, if I asked her for advice, the help would likely come with strings. I’d do it for Tegen, but I’d prefer to leave that option as a last resort. I mean, really... the thought of being in her debt made me wince.

###

After working with Tegen for three days, we wondered if we were being too ambitious starting with Healing Water, and we hit on the idea of running the elemental aspects through him instead. It was my turn to contribute mana at the time, so I went through the ones I knew: water, air, earth, and nature.

Tegen didn't respond to any until I got to nature. Then, his meridians subtly resonated. I’d missed it completely—and Tegen said he hadn’t felt anything—but Yuki had been paying exquisite attention. They spotted the change and encouraged me to try again.

Tegen’s meridians responded once more, and this time, Yuki said that there was also a flutter of activity in his pineal gland and temporal lobe. The man breathed easier from the influx of nature mana, but otherwise claimed not to feel any different. That was expressly not true based on Yuki’s observations of the chemistry inside him, so they proposed the three of us pour nature mana into him at the same time in order to increase the effect on his system.

The tension on Tegen’s face softened, his shoulders slid to more restful positions, and his spirit unwound. For a moment, he resembled who he’d been under the effects of the Grace spell, which... which... let people feel what they had in common. Their senses of themselves overlapped, and it harmonized them.

I looked over at Ikfael to ask for her permission, and she gave a resigned nod in response. Yuki was already on board, having picked up the idea from me, so I cast Grace and then immediately switched back to contributing nature mana.

I felt so comfortable and at ease. I didn’t have to be anything or anyone, and I didn’t have any expectations of the people around me either. They could just be themselves, including poor Tegen who—even now—was finally letting go of his own self-expectations, the recriminations he’d heaped on himself for not being better. They sloughed off like dead skin.

The self-judgement would be back when Grace ended—the spell wasn’t a cure-all for one’s baggage; I knew that from my own experiences—but in the meantime Tegen got a taste of that freedom.

His eyes were clear, and they shone with nature mana. “I feel... healthy, like a tree is healthy.”

“Bring the rune to mind,” Ikfael signed.

“A vertical line with eight marks at the top,” I said. “There are four on each side, and it looks like an arrow pointing down.”

“The important thing is to open yourself to the World Spirit,” Ikfael signed. “Make a place inside yourself for the rune, and let the rune come to you.”

While Ikfael and I offered guidance, Yuki gave direct feedback: That. Whatever you’re doing is right. Your head dantian is responding. Wait, hold on, you’ve gone too far. The other way. Easy—

“Be easy,” I said. “Don’t force it.”

The Grace spell ran out, but Tegen was in the groove. As Ikfael stepped away, her mana run dry, Tegen homed in on the state needed for mana magic. Yuki was next to tap out, but they continued to provide him with feedback. Then, it was my mana tank’s turn to empty.

At the end, it was just Tegen who crossed the finish line, not alone—not with all of us supporting him, cheering him on—but it was his willing spirit that’d carried him the last steps across.

Tegen’s first spell was to turn pure mana into nature mana. Not exactly exciting, but it was enough to earn him the Nature Magic skill. He looked stunned as he told us, as wide-eyed as a baby.

Ostensibly, we should’ve thrown a party for Tegen, but when we broke the news to the others, they blanched at the idea. We all settled for Teila and I singing and dancing for him instead.

Tegen laughed, cried, and smiled like a loon throughout our performance, and seriously, this boon couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. I didn’t know anyone as selfless as him.

###

The next morning, my team gathered to reflect on what we’d learned from Tegen’s experience.

First and foremost was the success of the qi refinement. And, interestingly, he’d more than doubled his capacity by a small margin. According to Yuki, the reason was due to the way his dantians were naturally formed.

That introduced a variable—there was the potential for someone’s dantians to underperform—but the hunters assured me that even something as low as a fifty percent increase in qi capacity would bring people out. Still, we’d need to include fine print to ensure people were aware of the possibility.

We’d have to set expectations anyway, in case someone with already refined qi entered the tournament. If they did, the boon might not help them at all, unless they were after mana magic.

Speaking of which, Tegen’s path to acquiring mana magic wasn’t going to be replicable—not unless I was willing to cast Grace on the winners, which I wasn’t. Not only did I not want to wantonly share myself, but it’d also expose Yuki’s presence inside them. That was a nonstarter.

What we could do, though, was use Yuki as a sensor for feedback for what was and wasn’t working. Ideally, that would include running a bunch of different mana aspects through the recipients, but we were limited to the ones we already knew.

At which point in the conversation, we all looked at our lodge master, Mumu.

“All our brothers and sisters have contributed to the retribution against Borba, and Eight doubly so in helping with the hunt’s aftermath. He’s already learned every spell available to apprentices—”

“You could raise me to journeyman early,” I suggested.

But Mumu shook her head, and said, “You need to be at least sixteen, and even that’s considered incredibly rare. No, I was thinking we could give you access to the reference elemental runes in the lodge’s spell library. They won’t be immediately useful, but they’ll give you more options to test.”

Tegen frowned. “That’s not much of a reward given all that Eight’s done.”

“I know,” Mumu said, her face downcast, “but the restrictions on spells are strictly enforced. This is the wisdom of the lodge. It’s unfortunate, but there’s little we can offer our Eight—at least until he becomes a full adult.”

“That’s fine,” I said, waving away the downturn in mood. “I’ll just save up the contributions until I become a journeyman hunter, and cash them all in then. In the meantime, I’ll use what I can to increase the value of Ikfael’s Boon.”

“We’ll head to the Albei lodge later to use their library,” Mumu said. “They’ll have a bigger collection than the one in Voorhei.”

Even with more options, though, the boon’s chances of giving someone access to mana magic was going to be spotty at best, and we’d add that to the fine print too.

All in all, we spent about an hour talking, at the end of which Haol took the portion of Yuki that’d been inside Tegen. It was his turn for qi refinement. We updated Dura and Miri on the changes to the day’s plans, informed Agath and Moon too, and then Mumu and I headed to the Hunter’s Lodge.

###

People whispered as we made our way to Silasenei’s office, but I didn’t see any anger or upset. Mumu explained that there’d been gossip recently that Banan and Kuros had been planning to leave the lodge to join the soldiers. I didn’t normally put much stock in rumors, especially ones so suspect in their timing, but if they helped keep trouble to a minimum, then fine.

Maybe the gossip was even true. The dead hunters had been spending a lot of time with soldiers lately. No one from that lodge came to complain, though. Until the very end, Banan and Kuros were nothing but a couple of losers.

Silasenei met us at her office door with curious eyes, but then she smiled enigmatically at hearing our request. She personally escorted us down a flight of stairs to a small lobby under the lodge. A hunter sat at a desk, and around him were four doors, two of which led to ritual rooms, a third to the lodge’s armory and storeroom, and finally the fourth to the spell library.

The lobby was lit with sconces, as well as a soft light from a crystal embedded in the ceiling. I wouldn’t have noticed the crystal, except I’d seen some just like it in Ithia’s and her guards’ hands.

I cleared my throat. “What’s that? A fancy kind of candle stone?”

“It’s an alarm stone,” Mumu said. “The light reveals anyone or anything hidden.”

“Neither qi nor mana spells work under its influence.” The ends of Silasenei’s smile tugged higher. “Why don’t you try it?”

Curious, I cast my Camouflage spell, but didn’t feel anything different. When I waved my hand, though, the other hunters all tracked the motion with their eyes.

“The effect also works on Scentless Hunter, Hollow Night, and other forms of invisibility,” Silasenei said.

“What, Hollow Night too? How does that work?”

Silasenei gestured to the hunter guarding the area, the mana around him shifted, and then he was gone, replaced by black human-shaped blob. The hunter body’s was still physically there, but the spell had removed all evidence of his presence in the universe, the absence of which was apparently made clear by the alarm stone.

A minute passed, and the hunter appeared as he normally would.

“What about ghosts?” I asked, doing my best to make it sound like idle curiosity.

“I'd not considered them before.” Silasenei looked at the alarm stone, then turned her gaze toward me. “But maybe I should.”

Mumu stepped forward to bow to Silasenei. “I’ve never seen an alarm stone demonstrated before. Thank you for the opportunity to learn.”

“Mmm... the hunter’s path is to be clever, bold, and cunning, yet you should never forget that there will be others who will have talents and magics we don’t know or understand.”

Both Mumu and I nodded reflexively. “So—” Mumu began, but hesitated after glancing at the nearby hunter.

Silasenei gestured, and he disappeared into Hollow Night again. With the spell active, he couldn’t sense us at all anymore. Then, with only Silasenei and me as witnesses, Mumu faded into her version of the land. The alarm stone didn’t do anything to reveal her, and I had to struggle to keep her in view.

“Certain talents,” Silasenei said, sounding pleased, “affect the mind of our prey, bypassing the alarm stone’s light. The ability arising from our Mumu’s Scout Born talent is such a one.” She turned toward me. “If I’m not mistaken, our Eight can do something similar.”

A drop of sweat ran down the small of my back, and I licked my lips, thinking of the time I’d eavesdropped on her conversation in the pyramid.

“It’s not a talent, though,” Silasenei continued. “I’ve seen the map of your spirit.”

Becoming one with the land was something I’d learned from mi abuelito. I’d spent decades trying to hone it, but I’d never fully understood until coming to this world how it wasn’t a skill to be practiced, but a state of mind—a way of being.

Mumu stepped forward to run interference again. “Our Eight is a good seed and blessing to the village. We’re grateful for his membership in the family of hunters, just as we’re grateful to the grandmaster for her lessons.”

Mumu bowed once more—her body language respectful but her spirit defensive. Silasenei must’ve sensed it too, because her sharp eyes cut into Mumu. Yet Mumu didn’t flinch. Not a bit, and she stared right back at the grandmaster, which... delighted her?

Silasenei laughed loudly, then clapped Mumu on the arm. “Come, you don’t need to worry. I won’t steal your apprentice away. That’s not my path. Now, let’s get going. You have a reward to give.”

However, as we approached the library door, the grandmaster paused to tap a stone underfoot. “Ah, I should mention... alarm stones don’t need to be visible to work. The required enchantments are more expensive, but the resulting stones can be hidden and still expose the invisible. A person might even—” She reached under her shirt to pull out a crystal pendant on a chain. “—wear one as a necklace and have it keyed so that only they can see what’s hidden. The expense is even greater, but within the means of those in power. Just something to note for my dear hunters, in case the lesson ever proves valuable.”

Mumu did an admirable job not blanching. Me not so much—my eight-year-old body reacting out of my control. The adrenaline hitting my system summoned Yuki’s attention, but after a breath, I told them that things were okay. Still, they took control of my endocrine system to calm me down, then sat back to keep watch.

Silasenei was practically telling us that she knew I’d eavesdropped on her conversation with Iseld, but she did it in a way that didn’t officially acknowledge it. No, she took things a step farther, encouraging the behavior by teaching us what to watch for.

Thank god, alarm stones didn’t reveal spirits. I shuddered at the thought of what would happen if Knight Ithia ever learned about the Deer God eating her throne.

“Nothing to say?” Silasenei asked.

“That’s amazing,” I squeaked.

Her smile spread, and for the life of me, I couldn’t read what it meant. She pulled a key from—actually, I was too distracted to notice from where—and I knew I had to get my head in order. I took another breath and cast a quick Iron Heart to settle my nerves. That earned me glances from the other hunters present, but I didn’t care. I was here for one thing, and one thing only.

The spell library was an unassuming room. There was a rug on the floor with the lodge’s crossed spear and bow, a couple of desks surrounded by cushions, and tapestries of animal portraits on the walls. The most important objects, however, were a bookcase and two cabinets that resembled old-fashioned card catalogs.

My feet took me to the bookcase, and I noted how it was constructed of black walnut, the wood neatly joined together. The carpenter who’d built the case had used the wood’s grain as the foundation for the design—carving a serpent into it so that it looked like it lived in the wood.

Turning, I saw that the cabinets were also made from black walnut, and they had a similar motif worked into them. The drawers had brass pulls, each one a scale on the serpent’s skin. I was stunned by the love and attention to detail invested.

Mumu carried a tray-sized box over to one of the tables and opened the lid to reveal a velvet-lined interior filled with ten silver orbs. Like a magnet, they drew me, and I felt myself salivate.

“Each of these contains the mana rune for an element,” Mumu said. “The lodge keeps them for reference, and you’ll find them useful... when searching for spell patterns.”

That was our cover story. I was a curious little pot of questions, after all, with already proven success in finding spells in the wild. And I didn’t have to pretend to want the elemental runes, either. All it took was Mumu’s nod of permission for me to gently, reverently pick up an orb.

I injected mana into it, and a perfect circle appeared in my mind. How appropriate—the first rune was for hydromancy, the one that had begun my magic journey. The second was the three wavy lines of aeromancy. The third was another three wavy lines, although these were angled to resemble a bonfire.

Yuki, are you ready? The thought buzzed with excitement.

The uekisheile was just as thrilled, and our happiness doubled as the two of us merged. We’d bring our full potential to the task of memorizing the runes.

We lost track of time as we examined the orbs one by one. Five of the runes were already familiar. Five were not. Ten orbs for ten elements in total, as categorized by the people of Diaksha.

“Before you ask,” Mumu said, smiling gently, “our lodge doesn’t have spells for all the elements. Yet we acquired them anyway in the hopes that one day we’d find them. Countless hunters have died in the trying.”

We nodded in understanding, then our head tilted in thought. “Other lodges have spells constructed from these other elements?”

"Each lodge specializes in its own kinds of magic,” Mumu said. “They are, however, deeply held secrets.”

The builders working on Ikfael’s shrine could quickly season the wood they worked with. Perhaps it was a combination of time and fire elements used to speed up the drying process? We had so many questions—

Mumu raised her hand to stop us. “Later. Right now, we’ve already taken up enough of the grandmaster’s time. Do you have the runes memorized?”

We split our consciousness, and I tested each of the runes by bringing them to mind along with a touch of mana. Over the course of a couple of minutes, I had a series of mana balls floating in front of me. And more importantly, my Status updated.

Aeromancy 6

Geomancy 5

Gravity Magic 0

Hydromancy 6

Light Magic 0

Nature Magic 5

Probability Magic 0

Pyromancy 0

Qi Body 11

Qi Body Arts 8

Spirit Magic 5

Time Magic 0

The new elements were gravity, light, probability, pyromancy, and time. Each was at rank 0, and I saw the runes when I examined the memories underlying the skills.

How much the lodge’s ancestors must’ve struggled to collect these runes—to wrest them and the spells in this library from the beasts and plants? How much sweat, tears, and blood had been spilled to build a place for those secrets to be shared? To continue defending them, so that they could be passed on from generation to generation. The Path to Perfection was long and difficult, and yet the ancestors eased the way for those following them.

I nodded to Mumu to acknowledge that I’d memorized the runes, and she closed the box to return it to its place within one of the cabinets.

When she caught me staring, she asked, “Are you all right?”

Overcome with emotion, I didn’t trust my voice to reply, so I simply nodded again.

At first glance, this was an unassuming little room, but it was also the holiest I’d found yet.