February ~ 17!

CHAPTER 17

As it turned out, Grant did not need to make it the entire way to the city. A subjugation team met them only a mile further down the road, hurrying back toward the initial site of the reports. Grant was seriously concerned to be surrounded by nearly fifty Vassals and Wielders so suddenly, but to his great relief they were all only concerned for his and Waylons’ well-being.

While he was unsure if another random civilian would have gotten the immediate treatment that Waylon did, Grant thought it was nice to see the others spring into action to save the poisoned and paralyzed young man. Unfortunately for him, the stench coming off of Grant’s clothes was so extreme that no one volunteered to come and check in on him, but that was fine with him… all the way until someone explained that he was coated in tracking fluids that wouldn't fade for at least another two weeks unless he received intervention from an alchemist.

The stink wasn't why he had been left alone as he’d initially thought; the fact was that no one wanted to get the smell on them while they were hunting the monsters. It wasn't until they came to a stream and an utterly spent Grant soaked in it for a solid ten minutes that he was reluctantly allowed to join the main group. As they were so close to the city, they decided to send back their fastest people to get Grant and Waylon into the protection of an enclave, while the majority of the group continued onward to go and burn out the nest of Stalkers.

Noticing the state that he was in, Grant was directed to get on top of the wagon, and his soaking wet body was simply strapped to the top with a tarp. After nearly three days of continuous fleeing, filled with intermittent combat and constant pain, he thought that it might have been the most comfortable bed that he had ever slept on. As soon as he was flat, Grant was asleep. His dreams were filled with spiders, bright orange hawks, and shadowy figures digging away at his soul.

Then everything changed.

Grant looked around in the gray world that he was standing in, and tried to puzzle out what was happening. He knew he was still asleep, but something told his mind that this was real.

“Hello, Grant. Welcome into February Twenty Nine.”

“Sarge?” Grant turned around and stared at the strangest man he had ever seen. He looked human-ish, but had draconian eyes and muscles that would look more appropriate on a Dire Gorilla. His entire head was hairless, and he easily stood nine feet tall. “What in the name of the Seventh Sword Saint are you?”

“I’m Sarge, you punk.” Sarge growled at him, and a massively oversized version of February Twenty Nine appeared in his hand. “You can only come here two more times after this, but just like every other Wielder out there, you get to use the runoff Quintessence to improve a single skill while you break through a major stage in cultivation.”

“I… I broke through?” Grant’s eyes lit up. “How? When? Why didn’t I know?”

“You broke through on pure cultivation, not by leveling up. You were already close, but doubled cultivation speed thanks to Spark Shield helped your mental cultivation a lot.” Sarge was clearly impatient. “Listen up, breaking through major ranks can only be done while you sleep, to allow your body to increase in potency without breaking your psyche. You only have a short while where you can direct the overflow into me, so tell me what skill you have that you directly want to increase by one tier.”

“That’s… I can do that?” Grant’s question was met by a nod. “That should be easy, right? Kenjutsu. Always Kenjutsu.”

“Hm. Good. That mental cultivation hasn’t been going to waste, then.” Sarge did something, and the particle-laden air around them began to swirl and drain away. “While you’re still asleep, let me explain what happens at the different tiers. Didn’t think this would happen for a long time, so I didn’t bother.”

“All skills are different, but there is a clear method that each conforms to at each tier. At tier one—Novice tier—there’s a ten percent flat increase. With weapons, this means bonus damage. With something like… let’s use alchemy as our example today, it means a more potent effect. Tier two—Beginner tier—gives you a bonus of ‘Perfect Aim’. For you, it means that you will be able to put your sword exactly where you want it. Might not seem interesting now, but you’ll see. It is impacted by what your target does, but you’ll never need to worry about cutting yourself with a sword again. Continuing our example, an alchemist would be able to place reagents in perfect positions every single time.”

“What does-” Grant’s interruption was flat out ignored as Sarge powered on.

“Tier three—Apprentice—gives you Critical Success increase. You put the sword where you want it to go, it has a better chance of decimating your target. Tier four—Student—will give you a flat twenty percent increase to all damage. Now we’re out of time. Look at how unbalanced you’ve become.” Sarge nodded behind Grant, who turned and saw inside himself for the first ever time.

Four enormous orbs were slowly orbiting what had to be his heart. One was steel-grey, the next was leather brown, the third was a radiant blue, and the final orb was blood-red. The last was enormous, and seemingly already straining against the bounds it had been forced into. The sheer size of it was causing the orbits of all of them to become lopsided as it pulled against the others, making Grant wonder where his physical cultivation was actually sitting currently. For the first time ever, attempting to pull his status up gave him nothing.

“Look closely, and see how what you do impacts your self.” Sarge’s words were strange and philosophical, utterly unlike how he usually was. “Look into your mind.”

Grant looked more closely at his ‘mind’ cultivation, and suddenly it was right in front of him. There were odd pathways that connected this orb to other things, and as soon as he noticed the first one, it tried to hide from him. Frowning, he looked closer, and found that the harder he looked… the harder it was to find. “Is that my stealth skill?”

“Correct.” Sarge stated simply. “While you’re here, I want you to change that skill.”

“What? Change it?” Grant looked for Sarge or the skill, and couldn’t find either beyond the shimmering energetic orb. “Why? How?”

“Stealth is unbecoming of a samurai-in-training like you.” Sarge explained, his voice coming from everywhere. “Unless you want to kill all your opponents, you will need to defeat them. You will be hunting, chasing, and intentionally drawing their ire so that you can move as fast as possible. Stealth is not what I had been attempting to teach you when you went against the Gleam-Fang. I want you to grasp stealth, and reel it in. Take that connection away and channel it into your armor cultivation.”

“This seems… my mind is screaming at me not to do this.” Grant admitted cautiously as warning bells seemed to physically resound around his brain. “Also, I’m not a samurai. I don’t even know what that means. I’m a cultivator.”

“You’ll lose this skill permanently. There will be no regaining it. This is true.” Sarge quietly ignored Grant’s protest against the life goal he had set for the young man. “It hurts to let go of something that would make your life easier. If it were someone else… never. But you cannot increase your stealth and still be the Calendar King. Instead of this skill making a pathway from your mind to your body, sending it into your armor will provide you with ‘armor’ that is specific to protecting you from those more powerful than yourself.”

Grant grabbed stealth, the entire representation of it in his soul… then tore it out of his body cultivation with the intention of connecting it to his armor cultivation. Happily, the intent was all that was needed, and the new channel was formed; because Grant was in no state to function as he ripped a part of his soul and attached it elsewhere. It wasn’t pain, it was an utter feeling of loss. A part of him that had been there was gone, and even though he had something else now, it would never be the same.

The strange vision faded, and he opened his eyes to see an unfamiliar thatched ceiling. Grant sat straight up, the sudden motion throwing him off the floor he had been laid on and halfway through the door to the room. He groaned and tried to pull his head back, managing to do so only by absolutely wrecking the flimsy wood.

Damage taken: 1 terrain.

An unfamiliar voice called, “Called it! He was breaking through a major rank.”

“Yeah, but he was out way longer than anyone else I’ve ever seen go through it.” Another new voice stated. Grant looked around for the speakers that sounded like they were right next to him, but couldn’t see anyone. They were walking, their steps so loud that it made his head pound. Five seconds later, the ruined door was pushed open, and two people in the heraldry of House Wednesday stepped in. “Hi, there. You okay?”

“Ugh… sorry about the door.” Grant whispered, even though it sounded like a shout to his ears.

“You saved one of our boys, a door isn't even worth mentioning.” The smaller of the two men stepped forward and gave Grant a once-over. “You look unharmed, but… something is messing with my ability to see you clearly. Are you healthy?”

Grant’s mind flashed to what had happened in his soul, and he gave a light nod. The larger man smiled warmly, “Besides all the help you’ve been, this is a room made especially for people that are breaking through into a new major cultivation stage. Everything in here is cheap and easily replaceable so that you can get used to the changes. Figure yourself out, then come down the hall so we can discuss what happens now.”

They walked away and Grant sank his aching head into his hands.

“Display status changes.” As the screens appeared, he felt a twinge of loss in himself that swiftly faded.

Name: Grant Monday

Rank: Lord of The Month (January)

Class: Foundation Cultivator

Cultivation Achievement Level: 12

Cultivation Stage: Early Summer NEW!

Inherent Abilities: Swirling Seasons Cultivation

Health: 228/229

Mana: 8.1/9

Characteristics

Physical: 89 -> 119 *Major breakthrough!* (Cultivation Stage Maximized. Gains will be retroactively applied when all stages are aligned.)

Mental: 35 -> 40

Armor Proficiency: 45 -> 51

Weapon Proficiency: 67 -> 75

Skill tier increase: Kenjutsu (2/10).

Tier one effect: All damage dealt when wielding a sword is increased by 10%.

Tier two effect: Your sword will never betray you. When a sword is wielded by you, the blade will always land exactly where you intend.

Skill destroyed: Stealth. This skill has been rejected and altered. As the connection slot is still in use, the original skill can never be regained.

Skill created: Reflective Skin. Knowing your enemy is half the battle, and you’ve found a way to make it harder for other people to understand you! As this skill is self-created, it will increase significantly faster than other skills.

Tier one effect: Increases effectiveness of armor cultivation by 10% when interfering with others abilities to inspect your innards or cultivation ranks.

“Wha… wow.” Grant stared at his new characteristics, the changes in his skills, and especially at Reflective Skin. Each time his eyes touched it, he felt the loss of Stealth, and a strange yearning to prove that this skill was worth having instead. “It’ll improve faster? Why don’t more people do this?”

<Would you ever knowingly go through that again, Grant? I know of some incredibly potent skills you could make.> Sarge’s words reminded Grant of exactly what he had to go through to get a rapid-growth skill, and he admitted to himself that no, he would never willingly do that again. <Best way to get used to your unshackled body is to swing me around. Sword out!>

Grant pulled February Twenty Nine out of his sheath and started moving through sword forms. He marveled at the explosive power of his body, and the fact that the blade would instantly come to a halt if he wanted it to do so, no matter how much force he may have put behind the initial swing. It made his forms seem completely inhuman as he swung in perfect lines, zigzags, and varied patterns. His sword seemed to hang in the air as he traded which hand he used to wield it, and found that it was equally easy to use either when using single-hand attack patterns.

“Sarge… why did that happen? Any of that.” Grant eventually asked his mentor. “I don’t understand why I just now broke through a stage, when two of my characteristics were already showing as Early Summer.”

<If you were a method cultivator, or a duo cultivator, then that would have been all you needed.> Sarge explained as Grant wiped his sweaty face. <Yet, you are a Foundation cultivator. You have higher heights that you can reach, but limiters on the speed you can achieve them. The short answer? You needed to have an imbalance that broke the deadlock of your various cultivations. The average of all four of your methods always points at the lowest possibility. With mental cultivation reaching forty, your physical finally progressed to Mid Summer, and changed what the ‘average’ lowest bound was.>

“That’s… that was the short answer?” Grant’s laughter caused Sarge to grumble threateningly at him.

<Looks like you need spicier training. Oh, look! Wall krakens!>