NOVEL NEXT Chapter 25 - Finding Rhythm
Rix's dive that day was uneventful. From the portal, he watched Luna wander off into the western quadrant with a woman he didn't recognise. Apparently, she'd found someone else to dive with. That made him feel a little better. Perhaps she'd be content to leave him be now.
As a fresh Mid Whisper, Rix could have ventured deeper into the Fractured Realm than the previous dive, but he didn't, instead staying firmly within what he was thinking of as the Low Whisper zone — the first two-mile radius of the portal. The dead inmate he'd found still hung heavy in his mind. That man had been a rank above him at least, and he'd still died in the weakest area, likely to fades identical to those Rix had already fought. Rix's success on his first day didn't change the fact that the Fractured Realm was still fundamentally a brutal place, and one fraught with uncertainty. He wasn't afraid of pushing himself — that was a necessary part of the Martial Path — but to progress he had to survive, and that meant knowing when to adjust his risk profile.
He intended to spend that dive exploring his new territory, but he quickly realised it was something of a fool's errand. He simply had no idea how much of the western quadrant the dead man had laid claim to, and there was no easy way to find out. He couldn't exactly ask another inmate and expect an honest answer. As such, he decided to simply stick close to the place they'd met and see what it had to offer.
The answer, it turned out, was not much. The overall quantity of enemies and treasures wasn't any different from what he'd encountered the previous dive. He fought more familiar fades, as well as a new variety that resembled a giant beetle, and dispatched them with relative ease. On one hand, it felt good. Just his second day in the Fractured Realm, and he already felt a degree of comfort. By the end of the day, he had nine kills to his name.
Unfortunately, similar results did not yield similar rewards.
[Essence: 10%]
It was a pitiful number. After the previous dive, he'd overcapped his essence by 10%. At the time, he'd wondered whether he was gaming the system somehow. Could he stay at Low Whisper and benefit from the huge returns from every kill? But of course, that was too good to be true. When he'd forged his essence and ranked up, that extra 10% had been reduced to 1%. And now, seemingly, that was all each fade here would give — roughly a tenth of the essence of his previous rank, though it varied a bit by kill.
It was said the first step along the Martial Path was the easiest, but he hadn't realised how stark the difference would be. It was going to take ninety more of these fades just to rank up again. That was a daunting number that would take weeks of work.
Paying more attention to his earn rate did tell him a few things about his quarry and the way the System interacted with them. From what he could tell, just because fades were in the same area didn't mean they gave exactly the same amount of essence. Sometimes, a kill would increase his essence counter by 1%. Other times, the counter would stay still, but the next kill would see a 2% jump. It seemed likely that the percentage reference was an abstraction of some more granular amount of essence. That meant that while you could probably estimate roughly how much a fade would be worth based on where you were diving, the exact percentage would vary. It also told him there was probably some variation in how tough fades were, even within the defined brackets, since essence was a representation of how much mana a fade had imbued itself with.
In any case, for now, he resolved to maintain his discipline. He'd continue to follow conventional wisdom and dive the closest part of the realm until he had his feet under him.
After all, a dead man took revenge on no one.
***
The rest of the week followed a similar rhythm. He spent his mornings training the exercises Master Zhen had given him. Unlike the thousand blows, there wasn't a single overwhelming feeling he was searching for. Instead, there was a sense of gradual improvement, developing a stronger connection to his body and an understanding of the way it moved through space.
It made him realise how his approach to combat throughout his entire childhood had been backwards. He'd always thought fighting was about the effect of what you did. The impact of your weapon, the speed of your dodge. When scrapping with other amateurs, that got the job done. But he was starting to realise now that the effect was the product, not the goal. The goal was execution. Do that correctly and everything else would follow.
Every day, someone, be it a guard or another prisoner, would lob a few barbs his way about how he was still training unarmed, and while they fed his temper, he managed to keep himself in check. That was probably only manageable because he could actually feel himself getting better.
The only disappointment was that his style still refused to set. He tried it every day after completing his training, but his mind still filled with just the same fuzz. It wore on his patience. Master Zhen said it would simply take time, but it was frustrating to be improving yet making no actual progress on the Martial Path. He'd had a decade of preparing for this. If he'd known the value of such a foundation, he'd have put that time to good use. But the Chronicles didn't detail such humble beginnings. They only told of acts of legend.
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It wasn't just Rix's general desire to improve that drove his disappointment. Watching the arena fights had taught him a number of things, but chief among them was that he needed his style to compete. Every warrior that stepped into that ring was a dangerous fighter, their movements precise and honed. Rix's hodgepodge of techniques would only lead to embarrassment against people with System training. Until he'd solved his problem, he couldn't take part.
Predictably, during this time Luna joined the list of arena combatants. With her attitude, it was a shock she hadn't thrown herself in there the first week they arrived. She handily won her first bout, displaying a flowing, patient style prone to bouts of sudden aggression that routinely slipped through opponents' defences with blisteringly fast attacks. This was made more dangerous by the fact that she seemed to be able to fight with either a one-handed or two-handed grip, depending on the circumstances. She had two techniques, as far as he could see: a rapid series of slashes that wrapped her sword in some kind of green energy while accelerating her blade, and a kind of block that allowed her to actually use her hand to deflect incoming attacks.
Though he already knew she was skilled, seeing her in action made one thing clear: Luna was already one of the most dangerous Whispers in Spiritlock.
What was even more impressive, though, was the Sparks. He hadn't been in any state to really appreciate them the first week after witnessing Han butcher Jian Li, but this time he made an effort to pay attention. They were a significant step up from most of the Whisper combatants. They fought with crisp, precise attacks that spoke of countless hours of training, and their techniques were often viscerally powerful in a way none of the Whispers were. Physically, they were scary too, with Rix often struggling to even keep up with the pace of the battle.
One man, in particular, was truly awe-inspiring — the cocky Martial Soul from the Cauldron who had given him advice on his thousand blows. And after seeing him in all his glory, Rix was glad he'd listened to him. He was a Spark named Goro.
And he was a force of nature.
That second week, he watched Goro fight a spear-wielding Spark by the name of Ro. Goro was the smoothest mover Rix had ever laid eyes on. He complemented that virtuosity with a barrage of fire techniques that were as flashy as the man himself. From what someone in the stands told him, Goro was one of the strongest fighters in the whole prison population.
Watching the arena also gave him an understanding of how the whole thing worked. Inmates were divided into divisions based on martial tier, and there was a ladder for each one. Things in the Cauldron worked a little differently, but since the Whispers were considered an opening act at best, their system was simple. Each week, you were matched against someone roughly near you on the ladder. If you won, you earned points and climbed higher. Seasons ran for four months, and whoever had the most points at the end was the winner.
Over that week, Rix had several further run-ins with Yutaro. The man never made a move to actually strike him again, but the intimidation was constant. A shoulder check in the corridor, threats lobbed at the portal, steely gazes from across the mess. The message was clear: Rix wasn't forgotten.
Then, heartstone day arrived.
***
Against his better judgement, Rix tried to make three stones. Deep down, he knew that even if he succeeded, it probably wouldn't be enough. People like Yutaro didn't bully because of the gains. They did it because of the power. One stone had become two, and if he managed that, two would almost certainly become three.
But he had to try. He simply wasn't strong enough yet. If there was even a slight chance of de-escalating the situation and buying some time, he had to take it.
Unfortunately, producing three stones was simply beyond him.
Even the second strained him in new ways this time, the spiritual burning more pronounced, like lava in his channels. Somehow, he made it, but when he sat down to do the third, the technique would barely form. No matter how iron his will, his body was not up to the task. By the time the door to his cell fell open, he was a raw, aching mess, and he only had two stones to show for it.
The failure hurt, but not too badly. In truth, he'd been expecting it. The question was, what did he do now?
It seemed to him he had two options: own up to his failure, or try to hide it for as long as possible. If he went to Yutaro now in the mess, he'd achieve a few things. He'd get on the front foot and show the man he wasn't weak. That counted for something in these circles. He'd also feed Yutaro's ego by offering him a public apology, which might take a little venom from the bite Rix knew was coming. The downside was that Xu Han would likely be there, which made it pretty much the opposite of avoiding his attention.
The other option was simply to avoid Yutaro entirely. He knew the man wouldn't simply let the issue lie, but it would achieve the immediate goal of delaying things, even if it was just a day or two. At the same time, it would embolden Yutaro, probably making the follow-up more vicious. It also just rubbed Rix the wrong way. No matter the situation, the idea of hiding from a petty bully burned like acid in his throat, particularly one who worked for Han.
So, steeling himself, he made his way to the mess hall.
The usual cacophony of clanking trays and loud talk hit him. He scanned the room until he found them. The Iron Hand, holding court at their usual long table — Yutaro, Kenzo to his side as always, and at the head, Xu Han.
Rix felt a rush of conflicting emotions. Though he'd watched Han from afar, since arriving, Rix had never actually exchanged any words with the man he was here to kill. He didn't know that he trusted himself to do so now. But perhaps the idea that he could truly go unnoticed up until the moment he slid a knife into the man was ridiculous. Getting that first confrontation out of the way now might be a good thing.
He just had to maintain control.
He walked towards them. The noise around their table quietened as he approached. A few Iron Hand members looked up, expressions shifting from casual to wary. Yutaro's smirk appeared as Rix stopped a few feet away.
"Well, well," Yutaro said, his voice carrying over the sudden lull. "Look who's decided to grace us with his presence. Come to pay your dues, little lamb?"