The Tower of Emnu

Aaron woke up with a giddy excitement for once in his two lives. It felt like what everyone had always told him Christmas should feel like. But Aaron could not remember Christmas ever feeling that way. It had not felt like a time to celebrate at all for years now. Without his mother to celebrate it with him he had actually dreaded those days when everyone was so forcefully cheerful and he had not been. But today not even depressing memories of his past life could affect his good cheer. He just pushed those thoughts back to where they belonged, in a sad little corner in the back of his mind and sat down to begin cultivating. Once he finally settled down, he spent 5 minutes yawning and trying to focus before he began with his cultivation session for real.

He took out one of the manastones from his wallet, it did not matter which one, since they were all the same size and had the same glow. Then he cut his hand without any hesitation and sliced a long relatively deep cut into his palm, ignoring the pain before he shoved one of the sharp edges of the manstone into his wound. It hurt enough to make him hiss and hold his hand for a moment before he got himself back under control. Damn but this was uncomfortable.

He focused on his pain and its origin and could already feel his body guzzling up the mana, turning it into Qi. While the shards had conjured the image of a fast flowing stream of hot searing energy in his mind, the energy of the full manastone was like a raging river, wild, clashing, its energy sloshing around wildly, only kept at bay by the vast difference in quality Qi had to the comparatively weak energy.

The Qi conjured by the manastone was simply sweeping him away, making Aaron frantic to guide it into his dantian and down the by now familiar path of his cycling technique.

It felt like trying to force a river off its course. It felt almost entirely pointless and most of the Qi created flooded his entire body instead of his dantian. With all his effort he pulled some of the qi, prodded it and the deluge of QI followed its wake, split and poured into his dantian. Filling it and then being drawn into the Qi veins to be cycled. Aaron’s whole body tingled, heated up and he felt how his pores opened, how his lungs inflated and his whole body was suddenly flush with energy, flush with a need to run, a need to train and make use of the overabundant energy in his system.

But he could already feel the efficiency of his bloods power to change mana into Qi dip, just like it had yesterday. The longer he persisted in feeding it the pure mana, the less Qi was actually created. He also had to refresh his cut twice, because his body literally healed too fast.

In the end he was not able to finish the manastone. It's glow had dimmed considerably and the pointy edge that he had thrust into his wound had dissolved and so the former pyramid had a blunt side that looked like someone had taken a blowtorch and melted the crystal away.

There was apparently some sort of limit of how much mana could be converted by his blood in one sitting and the closer he was to reaching it, the slower his absorption would become. Still this had been two fantastic cultivation sessions. His dantian was so full now that in his inner eye he could not just sense some dim strands of Qi rotating in on itself in an empty cavern, but a small whirlwind of Qi that dipped to the floor of the cave and filled it with soft mist like energy. If he had to guess he had filled his dantian by about 20% total, which was astounding. If he kept this up, then he would be able to fill his dantian to the brink in about 5 days. Although it would probably cost him quite a few manastones to do so.

He had only 13 and a half left and he would need 13 to pay the cultivators in the prison. So there really wasn’t a lot of leeway unless he wanted to use the 3 beast cores he had found instead. Which he did not want to do. If he could, he wanted some new techniques, something for offense maybe, or a ranged option would be very welcome. Even a perfect copy of the Rejuvenating Fist kata sounded like a great idea.

Aaron was practically bouncing on his heels when he got up from the meditation and started stretching thoroughly. Then he absolved the 50 sets of the kata to finish his morning routine. But with his body flush with Qi it felt totally different. It was like he was always half a step faster than he had been before. Like his punches were stronger, his footwork more precise and the Rejuvenating part of the technique was even more potent.

After finishing the last set Aaron felt incredible. A bit tired mentally, but his body was still full of energy.

Still he did his best to calm down and plan his next steps. First he had to smoke and if possible dry some of the deer and turn it into jerky, second he had to train his archery skills or he would always have to rely on wind steps to catch anything. Quite frankly he should have made the smoker already and looked for ways he could conceal the deed from any pursuers yesterday. The first step was gathering fire wood to dry next to the fire, then create a rudimentary smoking rack above his fireplace with relatively straight sticks and a bit from his diminishing rope supplies. It would not be as effective as building a nice smoking house that would dry out the meat much quicker with a relatrively even temperature. But Aaron was not about to build anything of that magnitude for a camp this temporary.

The actual tasks took him more than an hour to complete, especially building the smoking rack turned out to be way more difficult than Aaron had expected. But eventually he was satisfied with his roughshot construction. When he was finally done with his little construction project he was starving and so he started carving the bled out doe into pieces he could smoke properly and hung them on the rack before he cut out some choice cuts to eat right now.

While cooking he checked where the smoke of the fire was going and if a smoker would be viable if not, if he wanted to keep to relative secrecy here. The smoke vanished through the crack he had seen before selecting the camp site and it got sucked out through the narrow gap in the rock by a draft that kept blowing through it. The ledge of the overhang he had made his camp under was curved in such a way that it barely let out any smoke any other way but through the crack.

With a wind steps empowered jump Aaron leapt on top of the overhang and searched for the end of the crack while the smoke was billowing out. It wasn’t ideal, most of the smoke would still be visible if he kept it this way and so he went back down, took the tent canvas and draped it over the worst bit where the smoke came out, pushing it further down the crack towards the river that flowed past, sinking in a small gulf before dispersing in a much wider smoke column than straight up like from a camp fire.

It was still not ideal, but much better than what he had feared.

More or less satisfied with his work he enjoyed a breakfast of seared venison again, which still tasted quite good, especially as Aaron was slowly getting the hang of cooking over an open fire without any utensils.

Next on today’s agenda was finally training with his bow.

For that purpose he went a bit away from his camp towards the edge of the forest and made 3 snowmen. Which meant he just stacked 3 giant snow balls on top of each other.

He positioned the snowmen at different distances and then took up position a good distance away.

He drew an arrow, knocked it and shot the closest target, while he tried to discern why it was so difficult to be accurate with the bow. The first problem he noticed was that he had no idea when to release the arrow. Why? Because the tension of the fully drawn bow was almost negligible with his new strength. Quite frankly he could have just stood there holding the drawn back bow without any issues for hours.

Which was not how you actually used a bow. Or at least not how he had learned it. When he had started bow hunting for fun his instructor had made him aim, draw, aim again and release in the span of a breath. The tension of the string and the full draw was what gave Aaron more control over how stable and accurate his shots were.

But now he could not handle it at all. The stability had to come entirely from how still he held his arms while drawing. The bow was simply too weak to be shot the same way and he had to adjust to it. Slowly but surely he improved his form, fixed some mistakes and he hit the targets more often than not once he was finished. The closer the target the better of course, but he had hit the furthest snowman in the head ball more often then not when he had aimed for it. Which was a huge improvement.

He gathered his arrows and made sure they were still in good condition, before he decided to go exploring and hunting some more.

He was restless and his Qi filled body made him antsy and hyperactive. Aaron needed to bleed off some of the energy or he felt like he would go crazy.

So he sprinted along the wall, running in between canyons and deep gulfs filled with gravel and fallen rocks, he jumped over cliffs and soared with wind steps wherever necessary. It was a liberating feeling and he could not help himself. He had a permanent grin on his face while using his movement technique and whenever he saw a gap open up in front of him he had to jump over it. Had to feel the weightlessness as he passed over huge gaps in the hills. He loved this feeling more than he could even describe. It felt like what he had dreamed of as a child. It was like having super powers.

To soar through the air was pure freedom and although it was not flying it was so damn close sometimes. When he soared over a gulf no man could have ever dreamed jumping over. Then it was bliss, absolute unfettered freedom of movement and while he passed over miles of rocky surface, he observed his movement art. It was a strange technique. He could jump a rock formation and turn mid air if he wanted without losing any momentum. Which was seemingly impossible while he only coated his feet. The rest of his body should continue to move forward. But that was decidedly not what happened. Instead changing directions mid air felt like nothing had changed with his momentum at all, only the direction he was going in. It was bizarre and the more he concentrated on understanding how it all worked, the more mysterious the technique became. Because he found out that the Wind Steps did not only coat his feet in Qi after all.

His entire body seemed to secrete a small layer of Qi when he activated the movement art, as if he was sweating Qi. Which was weird because all he had to do to activate the technique was lead his Qi into his feet, push it out and then suck it back in with the opening in his other leg. No matter how simple the technique seemed to be, he realized quickly that the actual cycle of the Wind Steps was so much more complicated than he had initially thought. It did go in seemingly the straightest way possible through his legs at first glance, but in fact it was a winding complicated path through his body. He did also cycle the Qi when using Wind steps just like with the Fiend-god art. It was just that he could not really understand exactly where the Qi went once it left his body and how it coated his body. How it then came back barely diminished even while he walked, jumped and generally did not have his feet close to each other, was a complete mystery. Why did it not matter how far apart his feet where, how he moved while he had the technique activated. Should it not matter?

He could not sense his Qi at all once it left his body, but he knew that it had to do something with the sensation of silk underneath his feet and with the coating of Qi that spanned his whole body. Maybe the coating was so efficient that there was no loss whatsoever.

With his whole body coated in Qi, it made sense that he could move however he wanted, if he accepted that moving through Qi followed fundamentally different laws than not moving through it.

Aaron sped through all of the territory that he had explored the day before and continued alongside the wall, passing by some landmarks he made a point of remembering, a deep gulf running parallel to the wall, a giant peak of a rock jutting out of a flat plateau like a ruler. He passed the land by, running most of the time, jumping when he had to until the hilly and rocky terrain slowly smoothed out.

In the distance he could see the elevation vanish as the forest began anew. Everything on this level of the tower was dominated by that forest and this side of the hills seemed no different than any other at first glance.

Until he spotted a hole in the wall.

A giant perfectly circular opening was gaping in the wall like a great wound, through it and up into the wall stretched a set of marble stairs wide enough for an army to march through. The bottom of the stairs vanished in the trees and made it seem ethereal, as if the stairs had no end or beginning.

Aaron gaped at the stairway and at first he thought it was one of the 12 openings in the wall where he had come from, where the Hall of illusions and the summoning chambers must be. But it was not the ground level like those openings, but up at least 100 meters in the air. There also had been no stairs for the 12 Entrances and there was no symbol above the stairway either.

It could really only be one thing. The way to the second level. Or maybe not the way, but one of them. He did not know, but for now he had to assume that this might be the only way up. He was tempted to have a look, to experience another Level of the tower and see its differences, but he immediately discarded that idea.

If this was the way up the tower then there was no way people would not be waiting for him here. He gave the distant stairway one last look and quickly turned around.

He gauged if he could make the jump back up a rock without Wind Steps to preserve some Qi when he stumbled forwards unexpectedly. At first he thought he had tripped on something, but when he looked down he stared in disbelief at the tip of a giant arrow poking out of his chest.

The pain came a moment later and blood turned the surrounding furs and cloths around the arrow crimson. Aaron gasped and coughed while he stumbled against the rock he had tried to get up. He could not breathe and his mind was in a strange fog of apathy. He had been shot.

What a weird sensation, having an arrow through your chest. It felt much worse than the sword that impaled him. Maybe that was because of the position of the arrow?

But his musings were interrupted by the pain, the searing all encompassing sensation of a deathly wound. It woke him from his stupor and cleared his mind, while he screamed a short yell full of pain.

He was under attack. HE WAS UNDER ATTACK. His mind screamed it now and his body reacted. Instead of up, he stumbled, moved as quickly as he could around the rock into what he hoped was cover.

The pain was unbelievable. A hot searing, blinding pain that ate through his chest, robbed him of his clear thoughts and made his whole world sluggish as he struggled to breathe. His heart hammering in his chest. He had to move, he could not stay here, he had to do something about this arrow.

Primal fear, no terror took a hold of him as he felt how weak his legs were and how much blood was starting to stain his clothes. It shook him out of his inaction and Aaron ran. There was a small valley leading back into the rocky and hilly terrain and he sprinted into it.

With every step the pain boomed in his chest, threatening to drive him to unconsciousness. He groaned and his breath was still shallow, interrupted by first dry, then wet bloody coughs that hurt so much he wanted to die to get it over with every time. He spat out blood, while his feet never stopped moving, bringing him out of the open in between comforting rock walls reaching up to the false sky.

His vision was getting blurry and he had no idea how he had not gone into total shock, how he could move at all with a bloody arrow stuck through his chest. He ducked into a small opening between rocks and felt finally secure enough. Anyone trying to shoot him here would have to shoot around corners at least. He gently prodded at the shaft in his chest, sending shock waves of pain through him.

His eyes stung with tears but he had to get it out. There was no other way. He could not go to a hospital. Hell, he had no idea how he would survive without the arrow holding him together. But in the back of his mind something cold and calculating told him that with the rate he had healed in the past, if he didn’t get the arrow out, he might make things much worse. What if his wounds grew around the arrow, trying to repair what was not there? He shuddered with pain and indecision, but he had no real choice. He had to get it out and hope he would not bleed to death within minutes. He still had a Health Potion or two on him, but they suffered from the same problem as his regeneration. With the arrow stuck in him, they would not do anything good.

He took a shallow breath, feeling his lungs strain, his body shudder not to cough up blood again and then he gripped the arrow with his right hand tightly and pulled it forwards.

Aaron screamed in pain as the arrow came out inch by inch until he had to stop and loosen his grip before he crushed the wooden shaft. His gasping breaths seemed louder than thunder, his blood was hammering in his ears, his eyes were flooded with tears and his whole body sweaty and tired. But he could not stop now, not here, not ever. Slowly, very slowly he pulled the arrow out, stopping and starting again. The fletching slid through his open wound in his back, searing pain into him, but it was better to have control while pulling out the offending object. If he had tried to get the arrow out the other way it would have probably gotten stuck.

Finally after what felt like an eternity he had almost half of the arrow pulled out through his chest. Aaron was beyond pain, beyond suffering, his whole body was numb and he guessed that was not a good sign. Apathy crept into his mind once more. Why was he fighting his own death? Why did he want this life? Why endure such pain? Why not give up and go now before the real torture of life started.

Aaron remembered in those few moments where he was close to giving up how he had floated in the void, how he had slowly gone insane in the nothingness. Nothing changed, nothing moved, no breath, no body. Just being in eternal emptiness, lost with his ever spiraling thoughts. Unable to move forward, unable to die, stuck forever more until the last bit of his mind would be gone. He had almost gone through that process, had almost perished.

But he had not, he was alive again and a storm of positive memories flooded his mind. Breathing nice and evenly while basking in the light of the tower, learning the Fiend-god art, feeling how his body turned beyond anything he thought possible. Finishing the Rejuvenating Fist Kata for the first time correctly, flying through the air while laughing madly, feeling Wind steps silky touch under the soles of his feet.

No, he was not ready to go, not ready to die.

Aaron gasped, his hand tightening around the arrow shaft once more. With a finally steady hand he pulled out the rest of the arrow out of his chest and collapsed back against the stone wall behind him.

Desperately he pressed his hand against the open wound, feeling the blood splutter out, staining his fingers. Quickly he uncorked one of the red potions with his teeth and drank some of the liquid. He had not tested these potions, but he was desperate. A new form of energy filled him, radiating from his stomach, cool and soothing. He coughed and felt his lungs work, felt them struggle to inflate before he spat out a mouthful of foul blood and took a nice and even breath. It felt like bliss. Within 12 breaths his lungs were healed and his breath evened out. He looked down at the Potion in his hand and splashed some directly on the open wound on his chest.

The pain slowly receded, his blood stopped flowing and even though he was still in pain, in so much pain he would have screamed any other day, compared to just now it felt like the best thing in the world. It was the ultimate bliss, pain vanishing, his breath slowly evening out.

Weakly he got up. With every moment, every second he felt himself recover. But he was still weak and his enemies were probably right behind him. He had decided to live this life, had made a choice. He was not about to let anyone take his choice from him again.

The bastards who did this to him would pay.

Getting up was agony and he almost fell against the wall. His eyes were glassy and he stared into the dim light of the icy canyon. Snow had filled half of it and the ice made the whole terrain slippery and hard to traverse. Not to him though.

Aaron activated Wind Steps, the technique coming slowly, the activation cost was once more horrendous, but he could not care less. This was about survival. No progress was worth dying for. He took a single halting step and launched forward, flowing through the air more than stepping on the snow. He left a trail of blood behind him that still dripped from his clothes. But he did not mind that at all, the trail would lead them to him, lead them to their deaths. He pushed himself of the left wall of the canyon, then the right, skidded over the snow and ice and landed beyond the congestion in the tunnel.

He looked around, searching, planning. If his pursuers decided to come for him. He would be ready.