Rix's mind was racing as he left the Quartermaster's office. He'd dreamed of battling fadeborn since he was a child, but he'd been expecting his first brush with them to be in the Fractured Realm. With the moment suddenly thrust upon him, he couldn't help feeling a tremor of trepidation. Fades were monsters, terrors in the night that were capable of tearing apart even experienced Martial Souls. If Scarface and the Steward were to be believed, even a single one would eat him alive.
But if he was honest, it wasn't the fadeborn that scared him. It was what the fadeborn represented. This was what it was to be a Martial Soul. To have the skill and strength and determination to stand up in the heat of battle. And now he was about to be put to the test. Everything rode on this. Fail and he'd be denied the right to dive. He'd wither away as the prison slowly sold off pieces of him. Worse, Xu Han and the others would go unpunished. His quest would be over before it began.
He simply couldn't allow that to happen.
There was just under forty minutes until the trial, and the Quartermaster had sent him to the training area to test his new techniques. The training area was directly adjacent to the yard. Like that space, it was massive, but rather than one giant open sand-covered floor, it was divided into discrete sections by iron bars, like individual combat cells. Each was about sixty feet square and contained a wooden training dummy down one end. As Rix gazed along the line, he saw the training area actually extended far past the bounds of the Farm yard and continued out into an area that should have connected to the Cauldron. His eyes widened fractionally. The training area was shared by all prisoners, albeit with mana-imbued bars separating the two sections. But they wouldn't stop him from watching.
Even now, relatively soon after breakfast, he could see several pairs of people training on the Cauldron side. As this was the training area, everyone was fighting with practice weapons rather than cold steel. Rix's eye was drawn to a battle between two men several hundred feet away. One was a shirtless giant wielding a greataxe. His body was slick with sweat and he wore his hair in a strange array of complex plaits that Rix had never seen before. The man he fought was much slimmer, almost with a dancer's build, and he wielded a long straight Shanic jian in two hands. His movements were impossibly precise. Every strike from the larger man seemed like it should shatter bone, but the dancer was always a step ahead, barely more than a blur in Rix's vision. At one point, it seemed like he could feel Rix's eyes on him, because he actually pivoted long enough to glance Rix's way, favouring him with a brilliant smile before effortlessly ducking under a blow that should have caved his head in. Rix gawked for several more seconds before realising he had more pressing matters to attend to. There would be plenty of time to watch others fight. Right now, he had to get a handle on his own abilities.
At the point between where the two halves of the prison met, Rix spotted an older man wearing a white robe, similar to the Steward. He was sitting in an armchair in an alcove that adjoined both sides, his head buried in a tattered manuscript.
"Excuse me, elder," he said as he approached. "Could you please direct me to the weapons for training?"
Without looking up from his manuscript, the man gestured slightly with his hand, and a door a few feet from Rix fell open. He stared at the man for a few seconds, but with no further instructions forthcoming, he shrugged and entered.
The room he found himself in was narrow and dark, and like the cupboards from the Quartermaster's office, it was lined with weapons of every shape and size. Here, though, most things were made of wood. Practice blades designed to bruise rather than kill. There were several different staves to choose from, and he found himself smiling at the realisation that, unlike most other weapons, a practice staff was basically identical to a real one. There was just little way to make a piece of wood less deadly.
After choosing one that felt like a close approximation of the staff stored in his soulspace, he headed back out to the training area. All the cells in the Farm section were currently empty.
"Do I just take any one, sir?" he asked.
Still not looking Rix in the eyes, the man let out a grunt. Rix studied him for a second. Though his face was still hidden by the book, Rix could see white hair shooting up from behind the pages. He couldn't tell how strong the man was — like all other staff he was masking his Path somehow — but for him to show such signs of age likely meant he had at least several centuries under his belt.
Not wanting to bother the old master further, Rix moved a little way up the row and entered one of the cells. The moment he stepped through the gate, he felt something lift from his soul, a weight he hadn't realised was there until that moment. Unable to suppress his excitement, he raced towards the training dummy. It was a vaguely man-shaped block of wood about as tall as Rix was, though it had no arms to speak of. Like many things in the prison, it gave off a faint vibration, indicating it was mana infused. Rix wasn't surprised. Anything made from simple wood wouldn't last long under Martial Soul attack.
As he had in the Quartermaster's room, Rix again reached for one of the techniques that had been imprinted on his mind. He conjured the [Force Hammer] shape in his mind's eye, moulding his mana into it, then directed it to flow out into his staff. This time, there was no backlash. As the mana left his hands and started to surge in his weapon, he felt the second part of the technique push to the front of his consciousness: a grip, a motion, a follow-through.
He did as the technique bid, shifting the weight of the staff until he held it by one end before slamming it down on the dummy like a giant hammer. The effect was violent and glorious. Mana surged through the staff, lending it weight and mass. The tip seemed to glow with a rich silver energy, and as it struck the dummy, there was a flash and a deep thud that seemed to reverberate through the figure and into the floor below. The dummy's wooden torso cracked under the onslaught before a ripple of mana stitched it back together again in the blink of an eye.
Rix realised his mouth was open. "Fuck! That was amazing," he said, to nobody but himself. The Quartermaster was right. He'd never felt so powerful in his life.
He immediately conjured his second technique, [Wind Blade]. This one had a different texture, operating with a central grip and letting him funnel it to one end of his staff or the other. When he made the mana shape, it manifested instantly, a barely visible blueish hue rippling the air past the left tip of the staff. Less showy than [Force Hammer], perhaps, but that could be an asset. Unlike [Force Hammer], the technique didn't call for a singular precise movement. He chose to swing at the neck of the dummy, the ethereal blade at the end of the staff slicing through as cleanly as chopping vegetables. Even as the wood once again stitched itself back together, Rix attacked again twice more, taking off the figure's legs with two simple sweeps. He found himself laughing with the sheer thrill of it. Many parts of this process had been disappointing to him so far, and it had been made clear nobody thought much of his chances of success, but in that moment he felt unstoppable.
He spent the next minute experimenting, trying to summon each technique faster or slower, seeing how much he could modify the strike itself before the mana shape fizzled out. [Wind Blade] was as flexible as he first thought, responding regardless of how he moved his weapon. It was basically a toggle he could turn on or off. But [Force Hammer] was limited. Its efficacy was tied not just to the mana shape, but to the action itself.
"You're burning all your mana."
Rix turned to find the white-haired man standing a few feet back from the door to his cage. Now that his face was visible, Rix could see deeply lined flesh, a long white beard, and a mouth that seemed to be set in a permanent frown. He truly looked ancient.
Rix gave him a deferential bow. "I'm sorry, I don't understand, elder."
The man gave a derisive snort. "That is abundantly clear. By all means, keep flailing about like that if you want, but then in half an hour you'll be facing a fadeborn with nothing but your wits. And from what I've seen, that's not much to rely on."
With that, he walked off back to his post.
Rix bristled at the insult, but when he summoned his System display, he saw the man had a point.
[Mana: 32/200]
He'd burned nearly everything. Panic rose in him, but he shut it down. He had time, and his mana was constantly refilling itself. After observing, it seemed like it refilled at a rate of about 5 mana a minute. He didn't know if the rate was flat or percentage based, but as it was exactly 2.5% of his total per minute, he suspected the latter. That meant he could go from 0% to 100% in forty minutes. In the time he had left, he'd gain back about 70%. He'd have to work with that.
Now that he knew the risks, he revisited the actual costs of his abilities.
[Wind Blade: (Cost: 15 mana to activate, 3 mana per second to maintain)]
[Force Hammer: (Cost: 30 mana)]
[Force Hammer] had a simple flat cost to use. He could do six of them before he ran out. [Wind Blade] was more complex. When he'd been testing it, he'd been turning it on and off, which was clearly not a viable solution. Nor was it really practical to keep it running indefinitely. He'd exhaust his mana in a minute at that rate. He guessed that might be long enough to kill a single fade, but if every encounter left him dry, diving would be tough. He needed to be choosy with how he deployed both techniques.
That was all the more true when he realised he hadn't assigned any mana to his mantle yet. Lacking any experience to the contrary, he felt like he should follow the Quartermaster's advice and reserve 20% for defence. Cutting 40 mana from his pool felt like a lot, but it wasn't a permanent decision. Once he had a better grasp of how all the systems of the Martial Path worked together, he could settle on his own ratio.
He waited a few minutes for his mana to recover, then set about distributing it. All in all, it took about five minutes for the mana to settle evenly across his body. Could he learn ways to speed up the process? Maybe it came with practice? The ability to adjust your defences on the fly would be incredibly useful.
With his mantle in place, he turned his attention to the last of his new toys: his staff style. Unfortunately, this was where things got frustrating. Where the techniques were the flashy moves that would punctuate key moments in a fight, at early martial tiers, at least, basic weapon use was still the backbone of combat. His style would be critical to his development.
The problem was Rix couldn't conjure it at all.
The Quartermaster had made it sound like channelling his style would be a simple process, but despite being able to feel it there, a vague collection of strikes and parries and movements, they didn't have any kind of shape he could make sense of. The best analogy he could find was that the style felt like a piece of clothing that was on back to front. It wasn't sitting correctly. And when he tried to move with it, nothing felt right.
He spent several minutes attempting every variation of a strike he could think of, but they all gave him that vague sense of dissonance. Frustrated, he summoned his System display. His heart sank.
[Weapon bond: Quarterstaff]
[Style: Foundational Quarterstaff Basics (Null)]
[Techniques:]
[Force Hammer (Low)]
[Wind Blade (Low)]
In his excitement to get his techniques, he hadn't gone back and looked at what the system actually said when he'd chosen his style. That list seemed to confirm most things operated like his Path itself with different ranks: Low, Mid, High, and Peak. But then what the heavens did 'Null' mean? Had something gone wrong when he'd chosen his style? Or was he broken somehow?
He began hitting the dummy with increased fervour, trying everything he could think of to find a blow that felt even vaguely correct, but it was hopeless. There was nothing like the mental drawing the Quartermaster had spoken of.
"You look pretty manic for a guy whose opponent can't hit back." The voice came from behind him again, and Rix spun to find a girl watching him through the bars. After a moment, he realised it was the one from the mess hall with the side of her head shaved who had been looking at him strangely that morning. She had a similar curiosity on her face as before, but this time it was tinged with amusement.
"Sorry, what?" he replied.
She nodded towards the dummy. "He doesn't have any arms, does he? Not exactly fair."
Rix took that in. It seemed benign, but Yutaro's conversation had started out benign as well. "I didn't exactly have a lot of options," he said after a few beats.
It was the wrong thing to say. Her smile widened and she opened the gate to his training cell and stepped inside. He could see now that she carried a long wooden training katana which would usually have a single cutting edge were she using the real thing. "Now you do."
Rix held back a grimace. Another day, another person imposing on his space. "I don't even know how this works," he said, gesturing to the cell around him. "What if one of us gets hurt?"
Her mouth quirked up. "I'll be gentle." Then, taking it Rix's expression, she sighed. "I asked old grumpy over there," she gestured to the old master with the book. "He said to rely on our mantles and common sense, although he did laugh when he said that. Apparently, we can still technically kill one another, but he also said anyone that does that 'will wish their souls had been shattered and cast into the Field of Agony'. That's a direct quote."
"I'm not even sure what that is," said Rix. Interesting to know, though. If push came to shove, this was one spot in the prison where he could actually kill someone.
"Me either, but it doesn't sound great, so try not to die, I guess?" The girl stepped closer and raised her weapon. "A heartstone to the first one who can hit the other?"
Rix gave a nervous chuckle, then realised she was serious. "From what I hear, a single stone is hours of excruciating pain."
"That's why it's a perfect bet!" she said brightly.
She deflated a little when she realised he wasn't going to agree, before drumming her fingers against the blade of her sword. "Ooh, okay. How about this: loser owes the winner a favour?"
"I don't want—" Rix started, but he was interrupted as the Quartermaster arrived behind them.
"Ah, good you two have already met." She had in tow behind her another man. He was maybe twenty, wearing prison reds, and carried with him a sense of arrogance that was almost palpable. "This is the third prospective diver, Yuta Kiro. Kiro, this is Zao Rixian and Kai Luna."
The man took them in with a sneer.
Rix and the girl, whose name was apparently Luna, both nodded greetings. She then leaned in and said to Rix, "We'll pick this up another time."
The Quartermaster clapped. "Okay, follow me. We have an area specifically set up for this. It's time to see what you're made of."