A Pug's Journey (Cultivation Starts with Breathing)

Sali stepped through the gate when the marshal nodded. The roar from the stands hit us like a wall, but I was ready for it this time. I was small again, heavy with food and sleep, tucked against her chest. She carried me into the light and then set me down just past the chalked line. I planted my paws and looked up.

At the center, the other winners made room. Sali slipped into the line beside a tall, broad-shouldered man who gave her a brief nod. The five of them stood together: Sali and four unfamiliar fighters who had worked their way through the provincial brackets.

An Adventurer's Guild official approached with two marshals. One carried a wooden box. The official was trim and gray-haired, his dark green waistcoat cut neat.

When he spoke, his voice carried cleanly over the noise.

"Congratulations," he said, scanning our line. "By the authority of the Guild and the city of Duramark, you five are declared our tournament winners and official entrants to the Decennial Adventurers' Tournament."

The cheer returned, louder. He raised a hand, waited for the sound to settle, and went on. "You've proven yourselves the best in this city this decade. Wear that honor well, and be prepared for the challenges ahead."

One marshal opened the box and began to hand out bronze medallions. Up close, I saw they were round tags on short ribbon lengths, meant to pin at the collar or chest. The Adventurer Guild's crest, a tower circled by laurel.

When the marshal stopped before Sali, she bowed her head and accepted the tag with both hands.

"Thank you," she said.

She fumbled with the pin since she was still holding me with one arm.

When the last tag was given, the official raised his hands again. The crowd sank into a busy hush.

"You will all depart in three days," he announced. "The Duramark guildhouse will sponsor your travel to the Adventurer's Guild. There, you will undergo preliminary examinations before the main tournament."

A low grunt came from the burly man to Sali's other side.

"These examinations are mandatory. The Guild changes the tests each decade, but the purpose is the same: to ensure all entrants meet the minimum standards." He paced before us, meeting each face in turn.

When his gaze reached me, his left brow ticked up a fraction. I stared back at him until he moved on. "With two hundred thirty-seven cities participating across the central continent, more than a thousand competitors will converge for the tournament. The examinations will reduce those numbers."

Sali swallowed. Her hand drifted down and hovered over my head. She rubbed my ear with her thumb without thinking.

The official's voice stayed even. "In the next three days, it's on you to prepare. Train, rest, ask for what you need. The guildhouse will provide reasonable support."

The tall woman on Sali's other side lifted a hand. She stood far above Sali's height, sword in a decorated scabbard at her hip. "Pardon, sir," she said. "Will the examinations be disclosed beforehand, or remain a surprise?"

A few of the winners shifted, listening for the answer. The official allowed a thin smile. "A surprise," he said. "Adaptability is part of the measure. Be ready for anything."

Murmurs passed along the rail. The winners traded quick looks.

The official raised his voice for the crowd. "A reminder of what awaits at the tournament for those who reach the final five." He lifted a hand toward the stands. "Fifth place receives a Dungeon Priority Permit, first rights to enter any newly discovered dungeon under guild authority."

That had a lot of implications. After the scouting team, they had the opportunity for rare and undiscovered artifacts.

"Fourth place earns the Guild Blacksmith's Equipment Warrant," he continued. "A custom piece from the master smiths, at no cost."

The burly brawler uncrossed his arms at that, eyes bright.

"In third," the official said, raising a finger, "a prize from the Nation of Cards. The finalist may choose a card from their repositories, up to a rank just below the Squire Deck."

I perked an ear. The Nation of Cards—Brother Maevin's home. I wonder how he was doing right now.

The official didn't slow down. "Second place will be awarded a Grade-3 artifact of choice. And the champion will receive a Grade-1 artifact from the Guild's vaults."

A low sound moved through the stands. Grade-2s were rare enough to tempt a kingdom. Even I felt a small chill at the thought of Sali having something that people would kill for..

He clasped his hands. "Once more, congratulations to Duramark's winners." He bowed to the line. "May fortune favor you and guide your paths.."

The crowd answered at full volume.

Sali bowed, awkward but sincere. The others made their own acknowledgments. The tall swordmaster lifted a hand and grinned at the seats; a neat pocket of whoops answered her.

The winners began to file off. A few traded nods and light shoulder taps.

The afternoon sun fell, leaving long shadows at the arch as we left. The streets were busy, voices braided with vendor calls. Roasted nuts, smoked meat, and spilled ale rode the air.

Sali walked slower than usual. During this time of day, she normally hummed the way through or talked about trying another cake. But today, she kept her thoughts close.

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She glanced down with a thin smile that said I'm fine. But I could clearly see that it didn't reach her eyes.

We turned off the main road and the noise thinned. Lamps were coming on one by one. The sky had a dull purple edge, signalling the evening was coming.

"You saw how helpless I was…" Sali said. Her voice was small, steady because she made it steady. "He tossed around me like I was nothing. If that had been a real fight, I'd be dead."

I huffed. Hard to argue with how Gerald parried everything she did. I recalled that it was a type of martial arts that focused on deflecting, rather than direct attacks. And there was the factor that his resonance supplemented his fighting style.

Of course Sali, an unawakened one, didn't stand a chance.

We eventually reached our house. Inside, she didn't light the lamp. She took off her cloak and sat on the bed, eyes on the bronze tag at her collar. I jumped up beside her.

The city kept breathing outside—cart wheels, a baby crying two doors down, people already visiting pubs this early, and plenty of vendors selling food. We sat with it. After a while she whispered, "I need to get stronger, Pophet." She looked at me. Determination was there, even with her shoulders slumped. "I want to save mom."

She reached and took my paw in both hands. Warm, a little shaky. "I think it's time… I try to awaken."

I drew back a bit.

Awakening was the step everyone took when the road got steeper. It wasn't simple, but it also wasn't impossible.

"I know," she rushed on. "You don't use mana. You already told me. But you've seen it more than I have. Could you guide me? Even a little? I don't have anyone else to ask."

I looked at her face, then at the calluses on her fingers.

After our years together, dignity was something I could set aside for her. "I'll try." I said.

"I can't teach you mana," I said. "But I can try and help you feel what I can feel. There is no guaranteed success."

A small smile cut across her face. "Okay."

I told her "Tomorrow morning, we start. We will sit and breathe. I'll try to help you feel Qi."

She nodded. "And if I can't awaken?"

"Then we will find another way."

Three days later, before sunrise, we stood on Duramark's train platform with the other four entrants. The station was already awake. Porters hauled trunks to the scales, clerks checked names against ledgers, and families crowded the edge of the platform to hug their own winners.

We arrived early because Sali couldn't sit still. She had been up before dawn, checking her pack, my satchel, and then her pack again.

Those three days blurred into a loop of food, sleep, and quiet work. Unfortunately, she was unable to awaken.

A whistle cut through the air.

Far down the line, men shoveled coal into the engine's open mouth. The five of us had tickets for the same car by the Guild's order. I recognized the faces as they came through the crush: the tall swordmaster with the decorated scabbard, the broad brawler with taped knuckles, the axeman with a shield strapped over his back, and the spearman.

Sali hovered near the edge of the platform, travel pack on her shoulders, bow case slung across her back. The bronze tag sat neat on a clean linen shirt under her leather. I was still being carried by her, and when a train attendant offered to put me in a box, I growled back. A ̶p̶u̶g̶ Godbeast has his pride.

A guild official in a green sash walked the line, checking tags and tickets. When he reached us, he glanced at me and Sali, and marked our names with a quick stroke. He said, "Compartment 3." and moved on.

The swordmaster gave Sali a brief nod as she passed to find her door. The brawler lifted two fingers in a lazy salute.

Sali watched the others step up to the car.

The engine hissed. And the conductor called boarding for other passengers. We climbed the iron steps to Compartment 3. Inside smelled of oiled wood and old smoke. Padded benches faced each other in the compartments, with nets overhead for luggage and a narrow window on each side.

Compartment 3 held two benches. The axeman and the brawler slid packs into the net and took the far side. Sali set her pack above us and sat by the window. I hopped down beside her and settled by her hip. The spearman and swordmaster had the compartment across the aisle.

The train lurched. Metal slowly knocked underneath the floor. The platform slid backward. Duramark's long roof trusses moved past the window, then the far wall, then the last lamp.

This was Sali's first time on a train. So, out of nervousness, Sali closed her eyes.

Eventually, she settled and her stiff face eased. Feeling the wind, she opened her eyes and turned to the window, watching the fields roll by. Sheep dotted a slope in clumps. A boy on a fence waved at the train. But no one waved back but him.

The compartment rocked in a steady rhythm. Across the aisle, the swordmaster stood and walked towards us.

Her dark-blond hair was pulled into a neat braid this time.

"Good morning," she said, stopping at our door. Her eyes flicked to me, then settled on Sali. "Ready for the journey?"

Sali sat straighter. "Ah, yes! Good morning! As ready as I can be." She patted her pack. "I triple-checked. I think might have overpacked."

The swordmaster gave a quiet laugh and offered her hand. "I'm Sarah. Sarah Fairshield."

Sali shook it, careful and firm. "Sali. Just Sali"

Commoners didn't have a family name here. So, to fit in, Sali didn't use her family name.

Sarah leaned a bit, taking her first proper look at me. "And this must be your beast. I saw him with you in the ring. He grew quite large"

Her tone was warm. I suspected it was because Sali was still a child. But I growled back when she tried to touch me.

"Sorry," Sali said, wincing a little. She scratched behind my ear in the approved spot. "He doesn't like strangers touching him."

"It's smart," Sarah said. "The world is full of friendly hands until it isn't."

She glanced at the bronze tag on Sali's shirt, then back to her face. "Is it your first time to the Adventurer's Guild?"

Sali nodded. "Yeah, I've only worked near Duramark."

"The rail takes you at the heart of the continent," Sarah said. "It's quite busy there, being the trade center after all."

Across from us the axeman pretended not to listen. The brawler chewed on a piece of dried jerky as he watched the scenery. The spearman leaned in his seat with his arms folded, face blank.

"Are you nervous?" Sarah asked.

"A little," Sali said. A bit too honest. "I want to do well."

"You made it here," Sarah said. "It's the examinations that actually knocks out most of us. Hell, I even only managed to finish the 3rd examination last decade before falling out." She then scratched her face. "If you need someone to look at your equipment when we arrive," she added, "there's a man I know at the blacksmithing streets who works quick. Name's Harven. He charges fair."

Sali nodded. "Thank you. I'll look for him."

The whistle gave a short call as we crossed a mountainpass.

Sarah crossed the aisle and slid into her own compartment. The spearman said something low that I didn't quite catch. She answered with a single word and a nod.

Sali let out a breath she'd been holding since Sarah first walked over. "She seems kind," she said.

I grunted in response.

We rode like that for a while. The light shifted as the sun climbed, and the glass warmed under my chin. People in the fields turned to watch the train pass.