New System, Who Dis?

Tutorial Day 8

My simmering anger never truly faded, and over the course of the next eight hours, it erupted numerous times. It was strange to have a reaction due to a powerful emotion like rage, but to also simultaneously try to catalog what you were doing when it happened.

Let's just say my progress in push-ups got worse before it got better.

"You sir, are currently the Monster feces frosting on an otherwise fantastically disgusting Monster Sausage cake," I grumbled—trying to come up with a new insult, but likely failing.

I was relatively sick of hurling 'Greed Pig' and 'Husk' around—and everyone knew Monster Sausage was all made up of the worst bits of the Monster.

Claude leaned on his spear with a smile, and suggested in English, "Not bad. Not bad. Maybe something with the Selfless' Birthday Monster Sausage Cake?"

"Get Husked!" I grumbled, feeling my body complain just from the inhalation I'd needed to speak those words with the kind of force I wanted. My full lungs quickly deflated and my abused chest, neck, biceps and forearms screamed. Even my abdominals and legs cried slightly.

It was clear to me at least that Recovery was struggling to keep up with the abuse of this training.

That being said, I thought I might even be able to feel the pain lessening as Recovery worked. At this point, I was pretty confident Claude was at least partially aware I had some sort of Skill at work—because he'd been surprised at the frequency of my attempts. Well, I believed he'd been surprised if I was reading his expressive face correctly.

I'd eaten at least ten bowls of the porridge-pudding too, and he hadn't charged me for it. I let my neck relax and slowly lowered my forehead onto the dojo floor. A nap might be a good thing?

Claude chuckled. "All done for the day?"

I took in a deep lungful of air, and sighed it out, forehead still resting on the wood. To that wood I admitted, "My body is in a great deal of pain."

"Most people would not be able to push through as much as you have," Claude said. "It's rather impressive. Still—you'll probably be useless tomorrow. If I was you, I'd expect this task to take you about a month."

My head shot up! A month! I didn't have the Tutorial Points for that. Just some quick math told me it would be close to seventy-five thousand just based on the hourly. So, as nice as Claude was being, this was still a trap!

My rage flared.

You're telling me I'm going to run through all my Tp and still have a dirty ass?!

Okay, admittedly my anger stuttered slightly at that amusing thought, even as I tried to push myself again. This time I would stand up—punch Claude in the nose—maybe dance a little jig, and then take off this husking armor.

No, I decided. I'm definitely taking the armor off first.

What actually happened, however, was entirely different than that—as I felt a trickle of something leaving my lower abdomen. It was like anger, and sweet tea given 'form.'

As soon as the sensation came, I forgot about my need to punch Claude—and unfortunately, I also forgot about my arms—which were currently fighting to hold me and the absurdly heavy armor up.

My arms, without the direction of my brain, shook and collapsed. Thankfully, Claude saw it coming and shot the pillow back under my forehead for the eleventh time today.

I barely noticed, so focused as I was on the tendril of sweet tea. My rage had dried up with the discovery, and instead, in its place—the retreating red tendril of energy only gained an even greater feeling of liquid sugar. It was pure energy meant only for one thing—to power an engine—well not really. It wasn't gasoline. It was much more than that. It was the sugary nectar of the gods—

Ambrosia!

That was the best description my mind could come up with while still focusing on tracking the tiny tendril back through my muscles and veins as it retreated somewhere under my sternum but above my stomach.

Why did it feel like I was on a timer? Like my body was screaming at me—but not in pain.

In terror.

I ignored it and followed the Qi home—tasting it through the scent and feel of honey that it gave.

Near the end, my muscles in my stomach found the spot a few fingers below my navel, and the final parts of the red liquid seeped into something there. Whatever it was, it had a shape and substance, but also shouldn't exist according to High school Anatomy.

Is this thing similar to Smegma and not of this plane? Both there and not there?

No, Smegma had no physical substance, and this spot definitely did. Studying the area with my nearby muscles as a guide, I could feel a weight—a density, and even a shape. I tried sending a signal to that area with my nerves and succeeded in flexing the muscles around the strange, dense object that shouldn't exist.

Suddenly, the reason for my body's screams came due and I convulsively attempted to suck in a breath—but got a mouthful of pillow. Coughing and sputtering I managed to lift my head out of the pillow enough to stutter in a breath. Thankfully my mouth was dry of saliva or I was pretty sure I'd have it in my lungs. Even without saliva, I coughed and twitched as my body attempted to flip over, or move—but the armor prevented it.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Eventually my reaction died down, which allowed my thoughts to return. My eyes were watering and I couldn't even wipe them effectively thanks to the ridiculous gloves and weight of the shoulder and bicep guards plus the gauntlets. Claude used a towel and mopped at my face like I was a drooling puppy.

Part of me was outraged and indignant at this treatment but Mental Fortitude calmed me. I also was grateful? This husking Skill was infuriating at times. I had every reason to be upset at Claude—he put me in this situation. It didn't matter that he was also helping.

A spoon was in front of my eyes once they were cleared enough to see. I closed them tight again before opening my mouth.

"You felt it, didn't you?" Claude said.

With the translator, I couldn't tell what intonation he was using, but when I opened my eyes, he looked excited, surprised and… a bit skeptical.

"How'd you guess?" I asked, lacing my words with sarcasm—that he might not hear.

"Most people don't suffocate themselves with a pillow—unless it's in the bedroom and for entirely different reasons…"

I coughed in surprise at the French man's admission—joke? Since I had pudding in my mouth some splattered onto his arm. His smile didn't waver.

I wasn't sure if I liked Claude—or hated him. He just had that kind of smile and perhaps 'charm' to him. I shook off that thought and accepted another mouthful of food, swallowing before I answered.

"I'm not sure on that one—but I doubt that I'm into that." Claude's smile grew and I rolled my eyes. I think I did like the guy. I continued, "I did, in fact, find a spot just beneath my navel that simultaneously feels like it both should and should not be there."

A thought struck me and I kept my mouth closed even as Claude offered another bite. My eyes narrowed in accusation. "Why couldn't you have just told me where to look?!"

"Oh," Claude said, his smile somehow getting larger. "People don't often learn nearly as much as they do if they figure it out for themselves. Or something like that." He finished with a shrug.

His smile by this point was a shit-eating-grin and I got the message loud and clear. He enjoyed torturing people. I decided then, that no matter how much charisma or charm the man had—no matter how many jokes he made—I would not like him!

I finished the bowl in simmering silence. Claude's smile faded only slightly, becoming cat-like. It was only with my understanding of where my Qi had gone that I noticed a new sensation. It was like my stomach was draining directly into that area. However, I could feel that my stomach was also full—since I hadn't yet used the washroom—

"Wait—what happens when I have to pee or poop," I cried, my focus on the concept making me aware of just how full my bladder and bowels were.

"When you gotta go, you gotta go," the horribly robotic voice said in my ear. My mouth fell open as I stared at Claude's face. His nose scrunched up. "It smells awful but only for a moment."

He was going to let me defecate in my clothes and the armor, then use the Cleaning Wave, wasn't he?

* * *

I couldn't meet Claude's eyes.

But since I was focusing on a spot just below my navel with my face pressed into the wood—I probably didn't look that awkward. A shiver passed through me as I recalled the memory of something I'd rather never have felt.

I'd lived my entire twenty-one years of life without ever having an accident like that in my pants—well at least not one that I could recall. And now—

Focus! I mentally screamed and tried to feel for the dense lump where the Qi-nectar had gone. I flexed the muscles around it, hoping to accidentally connect to it with a nerve signal.

Eventually, I realized that my current attempts were something similar along the lines of when I was flicking my Mana Pool causing it to vibrate.

I pondered that connection. Was Qi a metaphysical thing, where I needed to create a Mental Universe to access? No. Something about that felt off. It functioned through a method that was eerily similar to my 'intentions' to move my body parts. Which meant that it involved my central nervous system, but I think I was making it mostly clear that there were no nerves attached to the strange lump.

Could I stimulate it with Mana? Or was it perhaps using something akin to the Soul Nervous System? I accessed my Mana Pool and tried to visualize the Spaceship, but ran into a huge snag. What exactly was I connecting it to?

In frustration, I opened my eyes to find Claude cross-legged in front of me with his spear across his lap.

Growling, I asked. "Any tips?"

"Yes. Many tips. If spaghetti sticks to the ceiling it's ready. Don't place a nail into something you plan to have stay—"

"I meant about Qi, you jackass!" I interrupted.

"Ahhh," Claude said, pretending he'd misunderstood. "Nope—if you don't learn something for yourself. It isn't your knowledge."

I returned to looking at the floor muttering new creative curses at the man—hoping the translator caught them. While I didn't fully disagree with that sentiment, it was also definitely wrong. Like the concept of the best Hunter's who competed in the Hunter MMA Wars were combatants from the Portals.

Sure there were some absolutely devastating Hunters that worked on their Skills inside the Portals and then entertained us 'normies' with them—but in the last ten to fifteen years, new—better players were emerging.

Well, I guess the consensus was still out on whether they were 'better.' Mostly because the old hats had retired or died in Portals—but I believed that the new generation of Hunter's in the Wars were more skilled.

So, I guess I disagreed with his sentiment—but surely there was a reason for schools to exist. It was just impossible to learn everything on your own. Mental Fortitude cut off my exploration of that rabbit hole and my muttered curses.

'The solution wasn't going to solve itself, and if I wanted to leave here with any Tp—I needed to work the issue!'

Okay, so I couldn't connect my Soul Nervous System to whatever the Qi thing was. Had I heard Sarah or London say something about a Dantean?

That fit—since Qi was a term steeped in Ancient Chinese lore, and Taoism. Not that I was an expert in any of that—but I was at least somewhat sure Dantean also fit that same Lore.

So, I couldn't connect the Dantean to the Soul Nervous System—but then, did it just travel through my veins and arteries to my muscles when I was angry?

Maybe, but that didn't feel right, either. As I tracked that thread of Ambrosia back, it had moved through the center of my body—almost like it was on a roadway that tunneled through muscles here and went over a bone there. It was like a long highway that needed to cut through mountains and cross rivers…

That thought brought me back to the metaphysical. If it didn't exist fully in the physical—then the pathway had to be outside of it. I began to fall into myself like I did when I wanted to access my Mental Universe—but when it tried to come, I pushed it away.

I was looking for something else.

Then I felt something familiar. For a moment, I thought it was my Mental Universe trying to get my attention—but while I'd felt this feeling first in my Mental Universe. It had definitely 'vanished' from there.

Slowly, I followed the feeling, and suddenly my vision became filled with red smoke. What I discovered was a Universe—wholly unlike my Mental one. There was a Black Sun in the center that was belching red smoke.

The Black Sun felt a heck of a lot like the Skill Planet or Star that was formed when I used the Skill Altar in the Naga Caverns…

My consciousness brushed against it and I was absolutely certain. This was Reptilian Body—or whatever it had originally been meant to be, but had been vented and—Devolved?—to prevent me from dying!

Also… is the smoke slightly sweet?