Aenon

The night reeked of sweat and dried blood mixed with the aroma of burning wood. All the new Guild recruits lay sprawled on the ground, barely able to move a muscle. Someone with basic fire proficiency had managed to light a small campfire to the side, while everyone simply collapsed next to the warmth. The pile of bodies included Jenny and Aenon, who had been put through the ringer by Ignar.

Aenon never even considered that his stat boosted body could feel tired or exhausted from simple training. But the sadistic drillmaster had known exactly how to push him beyond that illusion of endurance—until even he met the same fate as the greenhorns. It had been two weeks of nothing but backbreaking physical training. It was more demanding than anything he had even heard of.

His only saving grace was that he was the last one to fall. And, as promised, Jenny had dropped just a step behind him. He didn't even have the strength to remove the damned weights strapped to his body.

Ignar sat a short distance away, roasting meat over the fire with a relaxed grin. His wife lounged beside him, equally at ease.

As the smell of cooked meat filled the air, several of the recruits made pitiful attempts to crawl toward it. The low growls of their empty stomachs were the only proof they were still alive. Aenon tried once himself, then gave up and let the sweet paralysis of exhaustion claim him. He gazed upon the stars, the constellations finally feeling familiar.

"No healers among them?" Ignar asked his wife off-handedly.

No one responded since the statement made no sense. Their health and mana pools were untouched, and they didn't think exhaustion could be healed. Three of the forty-eight recruits had healing Classes. But when they attempted basic Spells, it actually made them tire out more due to the mana exhaustion with no visible benefit.

Apart from the stray comment, Ignar hadn't said a word since the training exercise ended. Their bodies were just tired, not injured. Much like a period of cramps after a workout.

Inspiration hit Aenon, as he began to look around him for a source of life wisps. From experience he knew that they existed in abundance on flora. Lucky for them, they were lying on grass covered ground. The concentration was abysmal, but Aenon tried attracting a stray few towards him anyway.

He channeled them into his body but didn't feel any effect. Since he was in no condition to move anyway, he decided to keep trying. But after wasting about fifteen minutes, he decided to change his approach. He closed his eyes and focused on his own body using Mana Sense. It was difficult at first, but eventually he was able to look at his body. What he found was both fascinating and confusing. His own body actually produced life wisps—as did everyone else—but in very trace quantities. And they seemed to be concentrating around his muscles.

So, he studied them next for the next ten minutes. Only then did he notice the almost imperceptible damage that the wisps were trying to heal. Aenon tried giving the little motes some help, attracting them to his right-hand using Mana Manipulation. The effects were immediate, as he felt his entire body felt more lethargic, except where he focused. In exchange he felt his arm become lighter as the microscopic damage healed faster.

Within minutes, he felt sensation return as he managed to lift his hand completely. Although weak, he managed to undo the clasps that freed him from his burden. With a heavy thud, and immense relief, the training weights fell off from his left hand.

"Truly a monster," Ignar's boomed with pride. "Never seen anyone pick it up that quickly. With just a clue, no less."

Even Velastra was astonished as Aenon repeated the procedure on his other hand. Several people squinted to see what their trainers were shocked about, realizing that Aenon was finally moving. Jenny activated Mana Sight, as she studied what he was doing. As realization struck her, she started to emulate him. Although not as successful, she did manage to undo one of her weights right as Aenon undid his last.

With herculean effort, he managed to sit up. But he didn't move towards the tantalizing smell of food. Instead, he sat cross legged, closed his eyes, and focused inwardly. The excitement of finally discovering a healing Spell overwrote the desperate need for nourishment. Free of his weight, he felt more relaxed than ever as he meditated on the way the wisps moved.

"All lifeforms produce life wisps," Velastra lectured in the background, helping him piece together the puzzle pieces. "While undead produce death wisps. Some generate more than others, and those who do can often develop healer Classes. But the truth is—everyone can heal. You just need to find a way to amplify it."

"These life wisps," Ignar added, "are hard to detect and manipulate, even with advanced mana sensing Skills. The fastest way to learn of them is to push your body to the brink. Since they focus on fixing minor tissue damage that is caused by stringent exercise."

The couple continued to explain for the benefit of everyone, but Aenon had learned enough. He tuned out the world and concentrated on his body with a singular focus. Feeling that he might need something more to accomplish the task, he even unleased his Aura. But unlike every other time, he focused it entirely on himself. His thoughts, feelings, and even connection to the world ceased. Pure instinct took over as nothing existed around him except him and the life wisps.

This was the first time Aenon had managed to enter this state of mind without an external stimulus. He simply existed in the void, a creature driven by nothing but intuition.

He willed the wisps closer, commanding them to obey. But instead of responding, they recoiled. The healer effects weakened instead of increasing like he expected. Confused, Aenon tried to coax them with care, but still they refused. The wisps wished to heal him… yet only at their own pace.

Aenon racked his brain to find a solution, until it finally clicked. The life wisps were trying to heal his body. As a living being, his body did have a propensity to attract life. But that wasn't his main attribute, was it? He immediately redirected his efforts to another wisp type, the ones his armor radiated in abundance. And one which his outer soul had an almost infinite amount of.

Like a long friend, the void wisps answered his call without hesitation. Within seconds, his body was cocooned in a pitch back layer, further isolating him from reality. Only life wisps were given free passage, as the two began to mix. The ratio had to be actively controlled though. Too much void, and life would erode. Too much life, and the void dulled.

After several trials, Aenon finally hit the sweet spot. The amalgamation of the two mana types was stable. He cautiously pulled the mix into his body, but the moment it touched his skin the world exploded. Euphoria surged through him as every trace of pain was driven out, replaced by a flood of revitalizing energy. His body felt indestructible. Muscles loosened and strengthened all at once; tendons flexed, bones stretched and creaked as countless microfractures sealed in rapid succession.

Aenon didn't know how long the effect lasted, but when it ended, he felt…disgusting? He was momentarily confused before an extremely repulsive smell assaulted him. He gagged and keeled over to the ground. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't hold in the black sludge that tasted like burning rubber and decay.

He heaved for agonizing minutes, expelling the acrid smelling goop into a pile. Even after it ended, the taste didn't leave him. He doubted it ever would. When he looked up with teary eyes, he found a stranger sight. His companions were standing almost a dozen feet away, their faces covered with whatever cloth or filter they could afford.

Despite their weakness, no one had dallied close to him. The looks of horror and revulsion were plastered on everyone's faces, including Jenny, Ignar, and Velastra. Although they did pity him as well, and in Ignar's case, quite disbelief.

Aenon looked at himself, an icky feeling running up his spine. This reminded him of the time he had taken the purified elixir that the Nurse had given him. Only this time the effects seem far more extreme. Although maybe it was the same, his soul was in the incubator when the effect had kicked in after all.

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Jenny started to approach him cautiously but retreated quickly as the smell got worse. She released her Aura and tried again. The ground froze with each of her steps, encasing the vile impurities in a thick layer of ice. Even in her Awakened state, she couldn't keep the disgust off her face.

"You okay?" she asked in a robotic tone, but it was laced with discomfort.

Aenon tried to respond, but each time he opened his mouth, the urge to puke brought him down to his knees. Thankfully Ignar stepped in to help. The giant man walked closer with a two meter—six and half feet—pole with a hook at the end. Gingerly he picked up Aenon, and carried him away from the expelled mess. Jenny quickly froze the remaining excrement as Ignar dropped Aenon far away from everyone. He hurriedly withdrew a large metal tank from his spatial storage, dropped a bag next to it along with some firewood.

"Boil. Herbs. Bath."

With just those three words, Ignar turned and marched off at full speed—leaving a dazed and utterly miserable Aenon lying on the ground like a quarantined animal.

Aenon couldn't blame the guy. Even he wanted to jump into his soul space to escape his putrid body. Suppressing the feeling, he got up and placed the huge bathtub onto some stone and placed the firewood beneath it. The tank auto filled with water somehow, a feat Aenon didn't bother questioning as he quickly kindled a fire before tossing the entire bag of herbs in it. While the water heated, he quickly started to undress, lamenting at the state his armor was in. Although his armor had a self-cleaning enchantment, it would take a long time to forget the fact that it was once covered in this filth.

As the water began to heat, Aenon didn't waste a second before plunging in—an action he instantly regretted. Agonizing pain tore through him the moment his skin met the liquid. Whatever concoction Ignar had provided had turned the water a dark, murky green—a detail Aenon had completely missed in his haste to wash away the filth.

The liquid began to seep in from every single skin pore, bringing with it agonizing pain. Even though the water had barely started heating, it felt like the temperature had far exceeded its boiling point. And it was now invading his body from the inside. Aenon's body convulsed as he lost all control. Like a dead fish his body floated in the soup that had begun to steam.

Once more, his body started to expel stuff, this time tainting the liquid a dark shade of red. Within a minute his body was stewing in its own blood, as he lay there helplessly. Even so, he didn't doubt the big man. He had full faith that whatever was happening to him was a part of Ignar's plan. And it must be something good.

He just wished the brute had at least warned him beforehand.

That was the last thought that managed to cut through the haze before darkness claimed him.

* * *

Ignar

"That was unexpected," Ignar said with a deep frown.

Velastra and Jenny stood next to him, worry marring their faces. The three of them were observing the tank that Lord Fenrast had thrown himself in. Both Jenny and his wife tried asking him what was going on, but Ignar didn't answer.

His entire focus was fixed on the boy who never failed to exceed his expectations. Every time he thought he had seen the kid's peak, he did something so ridiculous that it defied explanation.

When Lord Fenrast had come to him with a request to train, Ignar had taken it up like any other assignment. This wasn't the first time he had received such a request after all. He had trained several scions of prestigious noble houses. He had tried his best to fulfill his responsibilities and provide his utmost care and guidance. But rarely had his teaching been taken seriously. The brats he was accustomed to were not used to pain and suffering—a key requirement of physical training. Even the more gifted ones threw a tantrum at some point; claiming that he was just trying to harm them.

Until now.

Even though he knew about Lord Fenrast's iron will, Ignar hadn't expected things to turn so extreme. Ignar's goal was to slowly condition his body over time and forge it into something formidable. It was a traditional practice passed down through the generations in his tribe. A berserker's body was their greatest weapon and armor.

But from the start, Ignar knew he had met his match. He had pushed the entire group harder than he had ever pushed anyone, fully expecting them to tire out eventually. It was part of the process, and something he had been preparing for. Although he couldn't share the secrets of his clan with outsiders, he was not forbidden from using the technique on others.

The process was grueling, and often life threatening. His elders had put him through the same thing—break down the body using extreme stress, repair the damage using their secret arts, and finally reforge the conditioned body using an assortment of rare herbs. He was free to use the first step on anyone he wished, and only hint at the second step. The mana flow patterns and Spell formations his tribe used could not be revealed to outsiders. As was the blend of herbs needed for the last stage.

Ignar had trained countless members from the Guild using this method. More than half of them didn't even make it to end of stage one. The select few who did, never really capitalized on his clues to heal their bodies using Spells. The formations might be unknown, but just gaining a basic understanding of the process had tremendous benefits. Boff and Toff—along with their dead brother—were the only ones who ever managed to create their own version of self-healing Spell. They too were rewarded with the herbal bath, a feat that had also earned them a spot in his party.

But what Lord Fenrast had pulled off went beyond what anyone had achieved so far. Not only had it taken almost two weeks to break Lord Fenrast—far longer than anyone before—he had even picked up the hint relatively quickly. The difference though was in the quality of Spell he had created.

"Please tell me I am mistaken," his wife's whispered from his left.

"Mistaken? About what?" Jenny asked from his right.

Neither of the women looked away from the tank, which had started to emit a red froth from the surface.

"I come from a long line of berserkers," Ignar explained. "The art of body forging has been studied and refined for generations. It includes three steps—destruction, purification, and finally formation. The training regimen I have been drilling into you has been carefully curated to achieve the first stage. It literally breaks everything in your body—muscles, tendons, and bones. The continuous process of breaking and healing is what strengthens a body."

"That is nothing new," Jenny replied with a frown. "The theory behind building muscle was known quite well on Earth."

"But the healing process is usually passive, is it not?" Ignar asked. "But by adding magic, the process can be more controlled. Refined."

"Yeah, I noticed him pulling life wisps to heal the micro tears," Jenny said.

"He did a lot more than that," Velastra chimed in. "You only saw his first few attempts. Later on, he added something more to the mix."

Jenny looked at Ignar with confusion, waiting for him to elaborate further.

"My clan's teachings are secret," Ignar said softly. "I am not allowed to share the exact formations, even with you. At least until I get approval from my elders."

Jenny looked upset but shook her head as she refocused on Lord Fenrast. "So, what? You taught him the formation or something."

"No," Ignar whispered. "He has forged his own variation. One that is on par with our methods. Not to mention the addition of a mana type that is least understood by us all."

Jenny's eyes widened in shock as she stared at the bubbling liquid with newfound admiration. Even Velastra's voice was subdued as she spoke next.

"The things he does—overwriting a Spell ritual with the World Tree, creating his own versions of Spells, and now this. It's a talent that is unheard of. All indicate towards outside help or influence. And yet, I haven't detected any. Even Lady Sylvathorn said the same. Something about his soul being…extremely powerful."

"Not just that," Ignar added as he turned to the other recruits who were huddled far back. "He doesn't rise by himself. He carries others with him. Like a tide lifting a ship."

"What do you mean?" his protégé sounded confused.

"None of you could have lasted this long if not for him," Ignar explained with awe. "Even you barely lasted two days before. But this time, it took me two whole weeks to bring you to the same state."

"Well, yeah," Jenny said defensively. "I have been training. My stats are higher too."

"It is not about stats, kiddo," Ignar chuckled. "This regimen is designed to scale with your level and attributes. What matters here isn't numbers—it's willpower. Again, not the stat on your status screen, but the underlying concept that the System cannot measure."

His gaze drifted towards the tank that was beginning to emit red smoke now.

"I see now why his nobility quest started off at such a level," he spoke with admiration.

The three of them stood there in silence, contemplating what they were witnessing. Even Jenny could quite see what was going inside the tank, her Mana Sight was going haywire. The entire area was being inundated with a wild mix of mana types.

"What did you add to the tank?" she finally asked.

"A special blend I have been saving up for you," Ignar replied. "I was waiting for you to forge your own version of the healing Spell. It is what triggers the last stage—formation."

"Wait, what if I had never figured it out?"

"Then I would have waited to get permission from my elder, whenever that may be," Ignar responded with a shrug. "The purification step is a requirement before the herbs can be used. You wouldn't believe the number of impurities your body collects over the course of your life."

"Is that what the horrendous stuff was?" Jenny shuddered.

"Something you will also experience at some point," Ignar said with a sorry look. His student looked horrified, but there was nothing that could be done about it.

"I was looking forward to our evolution ceremony," his wife said. "But now, I am more curious about his."

"Me too," Ignar replied, ignoring Jenny's questioning look. "His achievements are already high enough to gain a superior race. But with this body rebirth, it is bound to be pushed higher."

"Hold on, this can also affect my racial evolution?"

"Of course," Ignar told his student. "Why do you think I am pushing you so hard? But if you can't achieve it in time, then we wait till your next evolution at level 200."

"Oh, hell no," Jenny remarked with fire in her eyes. "I am not letting him leave me behind."

With that the redhead ran off towards the spot she had dropped her training weights. Despite her tiredness, she put them all back on, adding a few more from Lord Fenrast's pile. Velastra stared incredulously as the ice warrior started the workout anew. Only one of the recruits joined in, but most couldn't.

Ignar merely chuckled as he turned back to the one responsible for this.

"A rising tide indeed," he whispered. "Question is, how high will it rise? And who will get drowned in it?"

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