Traverse The Fog

Spirit beasts... Cyrus rolled the crystal in his hand. Was that Saber-Tooth such a creature? That hulking, amor-plated creature with piercing, glowing green eyes dashed across his mind. No doubt about it. Spirit beast.

Hopefully, that creature was long gone.

"So," Cyrus began, pointing at the crystal. "What creature did this come from?"

"There is a creature known as a silver panther," Lord Dílis said, measuring an imaginary beast half his height. "They are rather crafty creatures known for their quick reactions."

"Oh, really?" Cyrus clutched the crystal. "Give me a moment as I need to prepare."

Lord Dílis furrowed his brows. "Prepare? Prepare for what?"

"For that weird feeling I get for absorbing life crystals."

"Oh? Do tell."

And Cyrus did. He explained how he felt all of his cells felt sentient, watching over him during the absorption process. Meanwhile, The Steward's expression grew stranger and stranger as time passed until he finally broke into a laugh once Cyrus finished.

"Gods, Cyrus." He tapped the side of his temple, chuckling. "What you went through is perfectly normal. Your body just has to get used to the process."

"Oh. Then I'll start then."

Cyrus sat down, closing his eyes. With a clear mind, he began absorbing the crystal. At first, Cyrus expected something akin to last night, yet something else occurred. In his mind, he felt something unlock, some vague notion or memory.

And then it came.

A new power? Some sort of technique? For some reason, Cyrus had felt he could focus his mind on a single point, forcing the world around him to slow down as his brain went on overdrive.

But he couldn't activate it. Not yet... I need more runes.

There and then, Cyrus willed his mana along with his life rune, splitting it five times before trailing them upward to his head.

Eight life runes. Far too little for what he wished to do. But... it wouldn't hurt to try. Hopeful and expectant, Cyrus opened his eyes, channeling as much mana as possible toward his skull. Ten seconds. Twenty.

Lord Dílis frowned. "Are you okay, Cyrus?"

But Cyrus didn't respond. He was too focused on his attempt, swelling up to a third of his mana. There. At that moment, he opened his eyes, life rune glowing within.

And then, the world decelerated.

His skull ran hot, almost unbearably so. Yet once Cyrus gazed upon the world around him, it appeared as if time had stopped. But only for a second. When his mana pool drained to a third, an exhausted Cyrus fell on his back.

"That..." Cyrus began between heaving breaths. "...Was amazing!"

"What was?" Lord Dílis loomed over him, brows furrowed. "What happened?"

"Uh..." Cyrus rubbed his aching temples. "It's hard to say…"

He then explained the situation. Once Lord Dílis heard everything, he remained quiet, seemingly lost in thought.

"Incredible," he finally said, his voice tinged with amazement. "It's rare to find someone so in tune with their domains." —His sharp eyes narrowed slightly, tone lowering to a whisper— "There are so many miraculous things about you." But then, the smiling Lord Dílis quickly recovered and plucked a strand of grass from the ground. "Let's test it out."

Cyrus agreed. And after a few minutes of rest, they began. Without fanfare, Lord Dílis flicked the strand into the air. The strand then began whirling unpredictably and at incredible speeds, nearly leaving afterimages.

Having prepared, Cyrus breathed deeply and fixated on the strand, entering a hyper-focused state. Time slowed again, and with it, the strand nearly slowed to a halt.

A rush of excitement and joy flooded Cyrus. It's working!

But that was all. Cyrus attempted to move his body, but it wouldn't listen to his commands. He tried and tried. Yet nothing happened until his skull overheated again, and time returned to its natural state.

"Again." Cyrus requested. Same results. "Again."

Nothing. Unfortunately, it was not until the third try that Cyrus barely moved his finger an inch. After the subsequent failure, he gave up, his head throbbing like a beating heart.

"I don't undertstand." He asked, clutching his sweaty, disheveled hair while turning to Lord Dílis. "I couldn't move in that state. What's wrong?"

The man in question sat comfortably on a wooden chair that appeared to have grown from the ground, sipping tea.

"From what you've told me—" he began, taking another sip. There was a pause as he enjoyed the tea's wafting scent. "—Your body isn't reacting as quickly as your brain works overtime."

I see. Cyrus wasn't manipulating time; he was simply overclocking his information processing. How... disappointing. "So It's only useful... if I need a moment to think?"

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

He'd hoped it could help him during fights. But what use was it for if it needed time to charge up only for a moment's pause? Not to mention the costs...

"Come now, Cyrus." Lord Dílis stood and strode to him, the wooden chair slinking into the ground behind him. "What you have is an amazing ability. One that Wayfarers would kill to have."

"How so?"

"Because you could already do so much despite your lack of runes, Cyrus." Lord Dílis placed an undesirable hand on his shoulder. "Think of its potential once your body is as fast as your mind."

Of course! Realizing the truth, Cyrus lowered his head in a genuine bow. "You're right, Lo—Cosan. Thank you."

"It's no problem, Cyrus. I'm here to help."

However, if Cyrus had looked up at that very moment, he would have seen the cold gleam in those sharp, scrutinizing brown eyes from The Dúndraíocht.

"Now then." Lord Dílis turned his face to the open field. "Shall we continue?"

Without waiting for a response, he waved his hand. In the next moment, more seeds shot toward him like speeding bullets before abruptly turning and crashing onto the ground.

The ground quaked again. Moments later, colossal bark-like vines sprouted, intertwining to create various obstacle structures. Wall climbs, monkey bars, rope climbs and descents, jumping stumps—a martial obstacle course arose before the two. And the sight of it brought a sinking feeling in the pit of Cyrus' stomach. He then glanced over at Lord Dílis, nearly cringing at his smile that couldn't be interpreted by anything other than pure mischief.

Lord Dílis' smile tugged further. "Every day, you'll run this course until you can do it with your eyes closed."

And what an hour it was. The course tested not only Cyrus' endurance but also his patience.

So consider the wall climb that stood an imposing eight meters in height. While Cyrus ascended, he soon discovered that the floral climbing holds would seamlessly meld into the wall after a few seconds, leaving him without a hold.

Then there were the jump stumps. They moved and elevated themselves at random intervals as Cyrus jumped on them, abruptly changing directions as if carrying a mind of their own. Maybe they did, considering who made them.

In the end, it felt like a torment that some madman had designed these living obstacles to test Cyrus' limits, where even the passages between obstacles sprouted weeds that would entangle him at the slightest distraction.

Still, despite all this, Cyrus pushed through. His muscles, one and all, strained in each obstacle, pushing him to the brink of collapse. And in the end, a chest-heaving and mindless Cyrus hadn't noticed the monkey bar in front of him had disappeared as he reached out for it mid-climb.

That is to say, he crashed face-first onto the ground.

Battered and miserable, Cyrus continued eating dirt for some time, cursing the lord who had put him through this. The said lord had a calm expression. So long as no one noticed his twitching shoulders.

"Well done." Lord Dílis clapped his hands, gaze shifting toward the manor. "Breakfast is almost ready. So you should freshen up before the day begins."

In response, Cyrus simply groaned with a mouthful of dirt.

"Oh, you'll be fine. But I do have a 'pick me up' that would fix you right in a jiffy." Lord Dílis held out his palm, materializing a glass vial containing a clear liquid. "Drink this, and you'll be up in no time."

With a face and beard adorned with dirt, Cyrus peered up, his steel-blue eyes glinting through his sloppy hair, focusing on the clear liquid.

"Please," He begged, voice dry. "Tell me that's some sort of healing potion."

Fortunately, it was. However, as Cyrus just climbed out of his pit of misery, Lord Dílis threatened to plunge him back into it.

"I have plenty of these to help you." A smile graced Lord Dílis' face. "And since I'll ensure your training is as efficient as possible, then it's no trouble to push your body's limits every day."

Every day...

Despite his inner grumbling, Cyrus nodded. Quickly, he gulped it down. The effect was almost instant, with a mild itching coursing through his body before it completely recovered.

"Wow," he muttered, standing into a stretch. "How convenient."

Now, another accrued debt is on the growing list. And if this kept going, Cyrus would have to pay Avalorn with a lifetime of favors. Without this city, he would most likely be dead again. However, a logical part of his mind retorted. It reminded him that he would not have gotten any special treatment without his background of being a potential lifeline for The Dúndraíocht's world. If that was even possible.

I'll make it up to them... somehow.

"Initiate Cyrus," Lord Dílis abruptly spoke; his sharp gaze tracked the dirty and sweaty young man.

"Yes, Lord Dílis?" he asked, recovering from his reverie.

He observed The Dúndraíocht grew stoic and grave. "Have you considered visiting the barber?"

...

After a refreshing shower and a hearty breakfast, Cyrus found himself equipped with several more books covering various subjects, ranging from runic theory and city-state history to a comprehensive bestiary. Collaborating with the Dílis family, they devised a detailed schedule for the upcoming days.

So it began. Day after day, Cyrus would engage in combat with the Nandi and run the obstacle course in the mornings while practicing his casting in the afternoons. In the evenings, he would delve into the intricacies of domains and civilization. And before Cyrus realized it, five days passed. This morning, He stood beside the nandi behind the manor, checking over his runes.

Indeed. After playing around for a few days with the allocation ratios, Cyrus had decided to maintain a ratio of five to two to one for life, fire, and light runes. And in the end, he had accumulated seven light runes, eighteen fire runes, and thirty-one life runes.

At the same time, everyone believed that Cyrus could only create seven runes, and he did not bother to correct them; instead, he just silently used the extra allocation to make light runes.

Who knows? The secret may save his life one day.

Once done with his inspection, Cyrus glanced at the bear, secretly willing the life runes to his abdomen for strengthening.

"Go on," He said, waving for its attention. "Punch me in the stomach." The bear looked at him hesitantly before turning away. "Oh, don't be like that." Cyrus held its head, turning it to his. "You heard Lord Dílis. I need to practice channeling my mana while under attack. And since the old man isn't here to shoot seeds at me, you're up in line."

In response, the nandi lightly growled, nuzzling its muzzle on Cyrus' chest.

"You can't bribe me with those doe eyes," Cyrus huffed, stepping back. "I have some vials regardless. Just... lightly hit me, okay?"

The bear lowered its head in a defeated manner, nodding.

"Good. Now, let me prepare."

Cyrus began some deep breathing exercises and psyching himself up. Meanwhile, he lined his fire runes toward his left hand, ready to channel his mana at a moment's notice.

"Now," he said, baring his life rune-lined stomach while channeling his mana. "Hit me."

The bear hesitated... at first—only at first. Before Cyrus realized it, it punched him with the strength of two grown men. Air escaping his lungs, Cyrus was thrown back off his feet. And it hurt. A lot. So much so that he barely registered Lady Dílis' frantic voice.

"Cyrus?! What are you doing?!"