Chapter 65 - Thoughts Are Just The Spark

Jiran hopped out of his temporary bunk bed the second he was awake. Dreams of fantastical training with a magical aurawizard had been playing through his subconscious all night and he could barely contain his excitement to begin.

I love my life.

He performed a couple of quick stretches and headed back toward the town’s central stage. He was surprised to find the meter-thick bubble of aura still protected the stage and people were filtering out of it in various states of drunkenness.

Jiran pressed his way through and was assaulted by the stench of food, drink, and body odor. Bodies were everywhere. Groaning people slowly woke up or were kicked awake by neighbors and family. Like a field of zombies coming to unlife, they rose painfully and stumbled off the stage.

These people really know how to party. How is this even remotely safe? I can barely believe this is the Madra I know.

At the banquet table, he ate his fill before feeding Daughter and recharging his mana. The Aahmra was still sitting in the exact same position with his eyes closed and his chest slowly rising and falling.

He stayed up all night to protect the entire village while they had a party? What a boss.

Jiran flexed his aura in anticipation of the challenges to come. He felt like it was ready to receive more mana so he quickly condensed some mana and shoved it in. His guts twisted in pain as the backlash of mana spread through his stomach. After recovering, he approached the Aahmra.

“Good morning, Master Aahmra. I am ready to begin my training,” Jiran knelt and bowed with his head touching the floor.

“Very well. The sooner we begin, the sooner you can complete your end of the bargain,” The Aahmra’s voice was chipper and relaxed as if he hadn’t just pulled an all-nighter.

Suddenly, Jiran felt his aura being grabbed by the hands of a giant. The ephemeral hands pulled and pushed his manabody like they were kneading a muscle. Had he not still been on his knees, he would have fallen over as pain swept through his aura and a scream left his lips. However, no sound came out as the Aahmra’s aura stuffed his mouth.

“Your aura is weak, no substance. Do your people truly teach their children nothing about the manabody?” After several minutes of pulling, pushing, and stretching, Jiran was finally released and fell limply to the hard-wood stage.

Another long minute passed until Jiran recovered enough to sit up and respond.

“I had a teacher, but he preferred for me to figure things out on my own.”

“Rubbish! What is the purpose of age if not to impart wisdom?”

Says the guy who made me pay for his wisdom!

“I can feel your rebellious thoughts, boy!” The pain returned as a giant finger pushed deep into his aura like someone pressing into a muscle far too hard.

Jiran gasped but remained kneeling, refusing to fall again.

“Our first goal must be to align your aura with your consciousness so it can properly form substance. It is far too ephemeral. I imagine you had difficulties controlling it at first?”

“That’s right,” Jiran replied through gritted teeth.

“That is not unusual. However, it growing this large while maintaining that state is something I have never seen before. It should have absorbed more of your consciousness over time. No matter, the solution is a simple thing. Compact your aura as far as it will go.”

Jiran pulled the energy into half its usual radius before it would go no further.

“Pitiful. Prepare yourself, this is going to hurt.”

Jiran was only given a single second before the giant hands returned and shoved every scrap of his aura inside his skin. His vision went white as pain erupted within his cramped body. Without his manabody all around him feeding him a constant stream of information, he felt blind and crippled.

The wood beneath him began to creak as his weight was no longer distributed over an area. The Aahmra’s aura stepped in and took over the load before he broke something.

After some time, a voice pierced through his agony-clouded mind.

“You will stay like this until you adapt. Aura and body are one, they belong together. Do not fight yourself.”

Jiran lost himself in the white world of burning anguish. He felt something in his manabody shifting and changing but it was hard to understand any of the sensations because the energy was so condensed. He had no idea how much time passed but eventually, he grew thirsty enough to create a few mouthfuls of water before he dove back into his inner world.

Aura and body are one. Do not fight yourself. It is me and I am it. But what am I? Who am I? No, not who am I, who do I want to be?

Confidence and desire echoed through him, rebounding between physical and aura, building upon one another until he felt like his emotions had grown so powerful they could burst through his skin.

I want to be free! Free from constant threat, free to explore where I choose, and powerful enough to never have another make my choices for me.

Jiran slipped in and out of wakefulness as the white-hot agony churned with his convictions until it slowly receded. When he could see again, he found himself in a garden behind the estate. The old mouseman sat before him with his eyes closed.

“Aura and body are one,” He spoke cryptically.

“Yes, I know that.”

“You know but do you know? Knowing is not the same as knowing! You have lazed about long enough. Now is the time to move, to learn. Match your manabody to your movements.”

Jiran climbed to his feet, feeling weak and unsteady. His manabody rebelled against even the simple act of standing. The energy was cramped inside his body and twisted into knots that constricted as he moved.

His first stretch was an absolute failure. He moved his arm but his aura refused to move with it. He stood for long minutes trying to force the thick soup crammed inside him to cooperate. It did flow over time to fill in the space his limb occupied but he ran into the same issue when he moved his leg, then again when he bent over.

“It doesn't want to follow.”

“Why would it want to follow? It's not a dance partner, it's you! Now dance!” A whip of aura cracked into Jiran’s back and he jerked in surprised pain.

Ass!

He stepped forward from the weight of the blow and his aura failed to move with him. It stretched outside of the bounds of his skin before snapping back in like a rubber band to send him tumbling to the floor.

“Again!” The Aahmra’s word echoed as it reflected from the aura-infused walls.

Jiran stood, and was knocked down again, and again, and again.

Days passed as Jiran struggled to align his physical body and manabody together. He met several other disciples who were each undergoing their own personal torment. They were not allowed to speak to one another so his time passed in silence, occasionally interrupted by summons from the Aahmra where he would whip Jiran around the dojo when he failed to move fast enough for his high standards.

Each step could take minutes. He did notice the knots working themselves out the more he moved. With each day, he became just a little faster.

Once per day, all the disciples would meet in a small clearing behind the estate. Dozens of boulders were placed haphazardly across the grass, each a different size and weight. The objective was to build up the strength of your aura until you could move the largest rock, which was the size of a small house.

A tier five he didn’t know the name of was the closest at only three stones from the giant monument. Jiran was still on the smallest stone, his only way to move it was by placing his hand directly on the stone and pushing with his weak, congealed aura.

The night of his first full day in the dojo, Jiran felt comfortable enough to finally select the shaping subskill as he lay in his bunk bed.

Elemental Compression: Condense elements into a smaller space

He saw Mayalyn a few times when she dropped by for her own daily training. Unable to speak and wholly focused on his aura progress, they would either nod or wave in greeting before moving on.

Two weeks passed and Jiran could move at the speed of a normal human. Which is to say, extremely slowly.

At least I’m finally starting to catch up on the attributes from killing all those betas.

Strength + 3.3

Agility + 3.1

Endurance + 4.4

Durability + 3.6

Wisdom + 4.7

Intelligence + 4.6

Shaping + 2

Channeling + 2

Identify + 1

Coating + 2

Revelation + 2

True Origin of Water + 3

Further upgrades delayed due to lack of density

He presented himself before the Aahmra for direct tutelage when he felt the tap of aura on his shoulder.

“Your progress is abysmal. Are you trying to renege on our deal by spending the rest of my natural life in these halls?”

“I am doing my best,” Jiran said while reigning in his frustration.

“Nonsense! Your manabody is still clouded, your thoughts are murky. Take out the garbage.”

“I don’t understand.”

The Aahmra sighed deeply and then spoke, disappointment clear in his tone.

“We are not our thoughts, Jiran of Feylon. Thought creates action, action creates momentum, momentum is who we are. Thoughts are just the spark. Only action brings real change to the world. While you muddle with your thoughts, your aura seeks action. It understands the truth, while your mind only trips your feet.”

Is he talking about that same concept I used to absorb the densoon waves? Putting aside my thoughts and emotions and simply existing in the moment.

Jiran looked at the far wall of the dojo and created a single spark of thought, “I want to move over there,” before shutting off his brain.

Then he walked. He felt the floor beneath his toes, the air as it rustled his hair. His skin brushed against his clothes and his lungs pumped while his heart beat. Action without thought. Then he was there and his hand touched the wooden wall.

“Finally,” The Aahmra groaned, snapping Jiran out of his trance.

“Thoughts can hold power, they can also destroy you. Use them as you would a spear. Strike swiftly then return to your stance of neutrality. The stance of oneness. You have two days to accustom yourself before we will begin the next phase of your training. Go.”

Jiran formed a single thought and then released his mind and settled into the movement. He made it down the first hallway before a random thought about food intruded on his peace and broke the spell of focus. Again and again, he tried to hold the ephemeral state of oneness as he went through his day. Always random thoughts would invade, often bringing with them turbulent emotions that disrupted his delicate balance.

For the first time in two weeks, Jiran left the dojo and wandered the streets of Azurlight. The People who recognized him from the feast waved to him cheerfully and he was happy to return their greetings. The sights and sounds of the strangely modern town were a constant distraction that he used to train his rampant mind into submission.

He sat by the stream that ran through the town, breathing in the scents of fresh weather and citrus while he observed the world around him and contemplated the Aahmra’s words.

Oneness, what does that mean? Is it really just as simple as being without random thoughts? That doesn’t feel right. I’m still missing something.

A bird alighted near him, its colorful plumage drawing his eye. It suddenly leaped from its perch and dove toward a small fish in the water. With its focus solely on its prey, it failed to see the small, scale-covered housecappel who was in turn stalking the bird. The pet leaped into the air with all the grace of a cat and closed its little jaws around the bird.

Not seeing the housecappel until the last moment, the bird flapped its wings mightily, barely avoiding the killing blow. However, when it alighted back atop the nearby branch it had sprung from, it was missing a leg.

Jiran expected the creature to scream and flail in agony, or at the very least chirp in outrage. He would not have been surprised had it shouted at the cat-like creature that it must be tired of living.

What he expected least of all was what actually happened. The bird did absolutely nothing. It merely watched the stream while balancing on one leg before leaping toward the next fish.

What the hell. Either that thing is used to losing limbs and has crazy fast healing or—

Then it struck him. The creature simply did not bother to think about it. There was not a single ounce of pity, self-recrimination, or doubt. It lived in a consistent state of action and reaction. There were no complications of any kind, no thought, oneness.

Jiran stood without thinking. He simply desired the movement and it became his new reality. His steps took him swiftly back to the dojo, when his steps could no longer keep up with his demand for action, he ran, then sprinted.

Muscle, mana, and aura flowed together, each building off the other to create something far greater than the sum of their parts. Jiran turned into a blur that sped through the streets, kicking up enough wind to blast the water from the nearby creek into a spray that soaked anyone foolish enough to stand within range.

All without a single thought.