A Pug's Journey (Cultivation Starts with Breathing)

"Rinvara?" I spat out, still choking on my food.

"Here." Sali showed me the newspaper page.

I read the line again to be sure I wasn't wrong. The paper was clear enough: a Sunmire delegation visiting the Adventurer's Guild to thank the noblewoman who sponsored the medicine wards and to discuss future plans. The list of names included the Sunmire Southern Saintess, Rava.

She chose a name just a few letters cut from her own.

Our last contact was a sudden parting that left too much unsaid. Knowing we were going to meet again soon landed harder than I liked.

The public reason made sense. The private one was easy to guess. Word travels fast when an "elven beasttamer with a little black beast" was making its way around. Since she was one of four who could connect the dots, she could easily pinpoint that it was us.

Sali cleaned the table without speaking. She picked the larger crumbs with her fingers, wiped the rest with the cloth, rinsed the bowl, and set it to dry. When the table was clear, she stood with her hands on the edge and looked at me. "Is Sister Rinvara actually coming to meet us?"

"She's going to the Adventurer's Guild," I said.

"She knows, right?" Sali said. "Since we've been making a name for ourselves, it's not a hard puzzle." She folded the cloth once and hung it. "Do we… change anything?"

"I don't know yet." I grunted.

She accepted that and glanced at the paper. "They wrote that she's here to thank the sponsor and plan more support. That's fine. But… if she finds you, what do I do?"

"Nothing," I said.

"Okay…" She paused. "Do I call her 'Sister Rava' or just 'Rava'?"

"Sister Rava," I said.

I've already given her details of my relationship with Rinvara, but nothing in-depth about what happened to her.

Sali's mouth twitched. "I only saw her once back then. She's a Godbeast, right? She was… very beautiful."

We left a bit early than usual. Sali wore her gear under her cloak, and carried the badge that registered her as an adventurer. No one gave us trouble. A few people glanced our way when we passed the corner market, fame was catching up and someone must have recognized us from the matches, but no one approached.

We didn't talk much until we were in sight of the tournament grounds. The outer crowd had already formed. Loud, but not packed. The final rounds always had a bigger audience.

Sali adjusted her cloak and said, "If we win this, we can go to the Adventurer's Guild and meet your sister, right?"

"Mhm." I grunted.

We passed the bracket board. Her name was there in the top ten. But in order to minimize foul play, it seems that the fighter will only be drafted at the time of the fight.

She didn't say anything as we moved to the waiting room.

The match before hers ended with a loud finish. Some kid with a glaive took a hard fall and didn't get back up immediately. The marshals announced the win and called for healers, waving the next fighters forward.

We stepped up. The noise changed before I even saw the opponent.

His name came with cheers. It was someone famous from the area, apparently. I could hear a small chant building in the back rows. A few vendors even called out his name while tossing meat rolls.

Gerald, the Harmonic Spear

A commoner who made his way up from the ranks from childhood. A veteran adventurer with more than 30 years on his belt. Ten years ago, he had also participated in the main tournament, but he was unable to complete the on-site tests.

He had a spear, slightly longer than standard, and a steady gait. His clothes were clean and the badge he wore showed his rank in the guild; he was at Grade-4. We were at Grade-6. The guild rankings were simple, everyone started at Grade-12 and they made their way down.

I found it a bit suspicious that the naming system was similar to how Aephelia called that artifact of hers.

The crowd continued cheering as Sali placed me down on the ground.

"You'll be fine," I said, quietly.

She nodded, and replied without looking back, "I know."

The marshal raised a hand, signalling the start of the fight.

I settled into my spot.

The crowd kept chanting the man's name.

"Gerald! Gerald! Gerald!"

The marshal's hand dropped and the match began.

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

Sali moved first, closing the distance with quick, light steps. She tried to angle in at his side, keeping her guard low to bait a thrust with her dagger. The man didn't take it. He stood calm, almost relaxed, as if her advance barely required his attention.

When she reached striking range, his arm extended, just a small push along her shoulder. The motion sent her off balance, forcing her to stumble to the side.

He had barely moved his feet.

She turned quickly and came again, sharper this time. She tested his stance with three quick blows, two to the midline and one high toward the neck. He avoided each one by shifting a fraction out of reach. When she committed on the fourth, he caught her wrist and let her own momentum carry her past him.

She managed to stay upright, but only just barely. The crowd erupted with cheers for his composure.

I sent a thread of Intent across the floor, a subtle line of pressure beneath his foot, enough to catch his legs if he was careless. He noticed. His stance adjusted immediately, a force of mana pressed back against my Intent.

'How…? That was possible?'

Sali dove in again, trying to use the distraction once she noticed that the man's attention was elsewhere. She slid low, attempting to sweep his leg out from under him. He lifted lightly, avoided the contact, and redirected her with a guiding hand at her back. The motion was fluid and it sent her rolling across the ring before she scrambled back to her feet.

The man still hadn't touched his spear. He continued the fight with a small smile on his face, as if expecting nothing much from this.

Sali wiped her lip, squared her body, and came back rushing again. She went for the elbow, twisting inward with a sharp grab, and for a moment it looked like she had him caught. But he shifted his weight, rolled his hip, and used her grip against her.

The next instant, she was lifted off her feet and planted onto the floor with a loud smack. The crowd roared at the clean throw.

I used Intent again, heavier this time, four staggered lines meant to unsettle his footing. He walked through them without faltering. He felt the pressure, adjusted his center, and carried on as though the lines weren't there.

Every entry Sali made, he turned into a chance to redirect her. Every strike she threw, he dissolved with the smallest touch, folding her energy into his own rhythm and sending her body where he wanted it to go.

She was being tossed around the ring without the spear ever leaving his back.

The crowd kept chanting his name, their voices louder after each throw. Vendors shouted for him.

Even the marshals looked like they expected the outcome.

Sali stood once more, fists clenched at her sides, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. She didn't complain, but she looked at me.

The man smiled faintly, as if enjoying the chance to show just how far ahead he was. "Use your beast."

Such disgrace…!

I've sacrificed my dignity countless times during our time here. But never did I feel so ashamed of being this helpless at a fight.

I've endured many things. Hunger, confinement, being mocked as nothing more than a mascot. But I held it together, for Sali's sake.

Those were easier than this. Loss, in front of so many eyes, especially watching Sali get tossed across the ring again and again, while my Intent dissolved before it even reached him, scraped at what little pride I had left.

I have given up on plenty, but never did I imagine I would stand powerless while someone toyed with us for spectacle.

Frustration built up, until I realized that this was a perfect debut. If I became famous enough in the main tournament, then Sunmire wouldn't be able to do anything to me.

My mind swirled in my head at the wasted ten years. 'Why didn't I think of this before…? Am I actually stupid?'

But another thought came up, 'No, if they knew of me when I wasn't famous enough, they could've sent more assassins and endangered Sali's life.'

That grounded my thoughts. And thus, I made a final decision.

I kept my eyes on Sali as she was thrown beside me.

My voice squeaked, "Ten years have been more than enough."

She was still breathing hard, but her voice was steady. "Are you sure? Really sure?"

I grunted with agreement, and I released the compression. Muscle and bone expanded; joints opened; the ring shook as I took weight. My back filled the sightlines of the first three rows. The noise from the stands dropped into a sharp quiet. Everyone froze, even our opponent, and Sali stepped behind me without being told.

Across the ring, I could see Gerald's face change into a crazed expression, very different from his previous solemn one. He lifted his spear from his back.

In this form, I could finally gauge his strength. He was at Middle Phase-4, which made sense as to why Sali couldn't do anything to him.

I placed one forepaw in the air in front of me and slammed it down, using Paw Intent. This time, it was far larger now. The air above Gerald's slammed down, and he shifted the pressure by using the butt of the spear to brace. He didn't panic. He pushed mana into the floor and the force of my Intent slammed the ground beside him.

'His resonance? Redirection?' There wasn't enough information for me to get through, after all, most adventurers kept their resonance a secret.

I added a diagonal Claw Intent at mid-chest height. The strike met the spear shaft and rode along it, but he rotated his grip and cut the angle.

The crowd found its voice again, and they started cheering for both sides. A lot of murmurs about the young elven girl actually beating Gerald now.

Gerald exhaled and changed his rhythm. This time, he took initiative and rushed forward, quickly appearing in front of me. He stabbed the spear to my ankle. But I ignored it, the blade hit fur and stopped with a dull sound.

Sali was still behind me, but she readied her bow and arrow this time.

Gerald released his spear, then tried to cross-step to my blind side. He poured mana into his body, and then, somehow, managed to vault above my body, slamming a hidden blade to my face. The tip skimmed fur and dealt no damage.

I wasn't interested in ending it quickly.

Gerald had made his point earlier, tossing Sali around like it was a demonstration. The crowd laughed with him. And no one saw anything wrong with it, because there wasn't.

Now it was my turn. As soon as he landed on the ground and retrieved his spear, I pawed forward, barreling towards him.

He tried to regain control with footwork, short thrusts, shifting angles. I didn't let him. Whenever he aimed, I was already inside the range. Every time he backed off, I was already there. He was forced to defend, and each time he did, he showed more openings.

This wasn't about winning. I needed to take something back.

Dignity.

Sali watched us from behind, she didn't need to interfere. This part was mine.

Gerald narrowed his eyes, then finally stepped in to strike. His spear shot out—quick, precise, filled with mana, and meant for my throat. I let it come, then shifted to the side, raised my paw, and swatted.

The sound was dull, heavy, and final.

His body slammed against the floor, flat on his back. The spear clattered somewhere out of reach.

Gasps from the stands.

And then, only silence.

I looked at them all.