Chương 1: The Training Dummy

The miasma hung far above the third level's surface as thick, multi-coloured clouds. Sections of the second level peeked through it, spreading like an umbrella over the center of the significantly larger lower floor. Large open sections and spiraling land bridges held up the upper floor, standing like titanic pillars. They allowed sunlight to leak through, providing ample illumination and revealing the swarms and behemoths that traveled along the walls and ceiling.

Sam couldn't help but look for landmarks from the old world, before the cataclysm twisted, stretched, and reshaped the land into a multi-tiered cake of stone, metal, and titanic flora. The section of the third level matched the neighborhood where his mother's office used to be. Both his parents were long gone, but he hoped that spotting the places he visited or spent time in would help him remember their faces or ignore the miasma's effects on his mortal body.

It was the deepest Sam had ever descended into the Abyss. As a mortal, he wasn't supposed to travel beyond the first level. The third was far beyond what his body could naturally withstand.

"Here," the ranger candidate said, handing him a vial of brown brackish fluid.

"Are you sure?" Sam asked, hesitating before he removed the stopper.

"I already emptied my supply."

"We both know it's not enough for the descent sickness. Drink up. The vessel isn't ready, and your training dummy services are required." Sam groaned, glancing at the rest of the party waiting and watching. Four other rangers and the two teenagers they were escorting stood by.

"It's the newly awakened one, isn't it?" The ranger candidate nodded.

"He's spoiled but not the worst. Finding a talent seed and awakening wasn't enough. Kid is disappointed about not finding a compatible spirit. And the commander is doing whatever is necessary to keep him happy."

"His dad is someone important, isn't he?"

"His mum, actually," the ranger candidate replied.

"Some big fish in Bastian who invests heavily in the legion. She's paid handsomely to see her son taken care of and entertained."

"And I'm entertainment." Sam sighed, tearing his eyes away from the visible sections of Level Two's underside. The upper floor was significantly smaller than the one below, taking up much less space. The sky on the horizon was yellow, but it took on an orange hue the higher you looked, with the latter shade becoming densest just below the miasma cloud.

"It's why you were hired." The candidate shrugged.

"Commander said that there might be a bonus if you do a good job. Not a percentage of the cut, but still more money and priority when recruiting for future jobs." Sam uncorked the vial and downed its contents. The sludgy texture and combination of extreme bitterness with hints of sickly sweet made him gag, but the descent sickness faded with each gulp. His nausea receded first. The dryness around his eyes and the tightness in his chest disappeared next.

Unfortunately, it did little for the constant whispering in his ear that had intensified after reaching Level Three. He had consumed a similar but less vile beverage when descending from the first to the second level. It was far more effective, but the sickness was also nowhere near as bad. The airfield was empty except for the airship's crew and the group of six that had just arrived. They had disappeared to the other side of the vessel, demanding complete privacy as they loaded their cargo.

Sam didn't know who they were, but the usually arrogant commander had behaved unusually compliant and respectful. As a result, he didn't get a good look at them or whatever was under their ratty tarp. Sam also didn't need to worry about leaving his valuable cargo unattended.

"I'm told you have combat training, Porter," the teenager said as Sam approached.

"I used to work in Bastion Academy, young master," Sam answered. He had learned to treat the children of the rich and powerful with deference the hard way. They expected the same respect that their parents had earned with ingenuity or raw power.

"The combat trainers had me help with sparring on occasion."

"You're still a mortal?" Sam nodded, resisting the urge to remind the young master that he, too, was one until the day before.

"Did you pick up any techniques?" Sam nodded again and removed his scarf, jacket, and boots. They were only a month old, and he couldn't afford to damage them.

"Which?" The young man continued before Sam could reply.

"Actually, don't tell me. The element of surprise might put us on equal footing." The commander grinned behind the 'young master', offering neither advice nor warning to either of them.

"Begin," was all he said when the two were in position and adopted a ready stance. There was no doubt about who was better trained and stronger. Sam had worked at Bastion Academy for five years but had never seen the young man. It meant his parents hired him the best private tutors, teaching him the ways of the Abyss, its secrets, and martial arts. He was dedicated and rose with the porter every morning.

Instead of helping with waking duties and packing up the campsite, the young man drilled every technique his teachers had taught him. Unattuned techniques used by a newly awakened body weren't much of a threat. Without a bonded spirit, he had no domains to grant them attunement or power. The young master's ether reserves were also barely above those of a mortal. However, he had variety, flexibility, and also energy that came with youth.

The young master approached with explosive speed, covering the twenty feet between them in a blink. Sam had seen the technique countless times before. It was popular among the academy's students. Explosive Burst. Circulate ether through the lower body to increase muscle strength, and release a burst through the feet to take off at blinding speeds. Excellent for quick approaches, but it is monodirectional. It takes time to prepare, and repeated use heavily taxes the body.

An open palm shot at Sam's midriff the moment the young master stopped in front of him. It didn't land. Sam was long gone before the strike reached its target. The young master's eyes widened when he struck nothing but air, and his opponent hopped five feet away.

"Feather Step?" The young master frowned. Sam knew better than to answer or converse during combat. He didn't expect to win, but disrupting his breathing would make the spar's results significantly worse. However, the young master's guess was correct. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. As a mortal, Sam couldn't store ether within himself. Feather Step was a much cheaper technique than Explosive Burst.

It enhanced the entire body, strengthening muscles to a much lesser extent, hyperoxygenating blood, sharpening the nerves, and reducing weight. What it lacked in potency, the technique compensated for with ease of use, efficiency, and sustainability. Sam could just about keep going by channeling ambient ether through his body. The environmental density made it much easier to maintain the technique than on Level One. The young master used Explosive Burst again, covering the distance in a flash.

Instead of a palm thrust, he horizontally chopped at Sam. The outside edge of his right hand and forearm glowed like someone had lit a bulb under his skin. It undoubtedly had enough power behind it to break a mortal's bones. Cleave? Instead of retreating, Sam moved toward the young master, ducked under his attack, and flanked him. He released Feather Step—his heart was already pounding too hard from holding onto it for so long—and activated the only other technique he knew.

Strength and solidity replaced the lightness and speed of the delicate footwork arrangement. He threw two quick punches. The jab struck his opponent's abdomen, but his right hook missed the target kidney. It wasn't enough. Sam grunted as the recoil from the jab traveled up his fist, into his wrist and elbow. It felt like he had punched a boulder. Iron Body? No. He's just awakened. It's something more basic. Probably a secret family technique.

The young master pivoted on his heel and struck Sam's solar plexus with a palm strike. The blow drove the air out of his lungs and folded him in half. Sam collapsed, gasping for air. He expected a finishing blow. When Sam was still a training dummy, the affluent students of Bastion Academy loved going for finishing blows, knocking him out, or leaving him concussed. The supervising healer always took care of him afterward, but the experience still left him in considerable pain.

Instead, the young master knelt next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't panic," he said.

"I shocked your solar plexus and nerves. Give them a moment to relax, and you'll be breathing comfortably in no time."

"Good job, young master!" One of the rangers called.

"Great show. You—""Don't be a suck-up." The young master sighed.

"It's embarrassing." The compassion toward a 'lesser' and general attitude would've surprised Sam if he weren't as breathless and in pain. Teenagers in his position rarely showed anything other than contempt or indifference toward the help. They also appeared to bask in flattery, enjoying every moment of it.

"How did that feel?" The commander asked.

"Did the talent make a difference?" The young master nodded.

"My reaction time has increased, and techniques activate faster. It'll take a while to get used to, but it should work great."

"A good compatible spirit, perhaps one with speed or reinforcement adjacent domains, and you'll be an asset to any ranger squad you join," the commander stated.

"We should celebrate. The airship's captain has a good vintage from—""Why don't you go on without me? I'd like a word with my sparring partner." The commander also appeared surprised. He nodded, then walked away, whispering to the other rangers as he passed. They and the other escort followed him, grabbed their packs, and headed up the gangplank to the outer deck, where the crew had set up a food-and-drink station for waiting passengers.

Only the ranger candidate, on his trial run, lingered for a moment, watching them. It looked like he wanted to say something. But then the vessel's captain called, and he went sprinting after the others. Meanwhile, the young master sat next to Sam, breathing deeply and directing him to follow. Even after the shock and brief stun passed, it took Sam a moment to gather himself, and even longer to get his breathing under control.

Once settled, he copied the young master's breathing technique and found the ambient ether reacted to him more readily.

"That second technique. It packed quite a punch. What was it?"

"Internal Ether Flow," Sam answered.

"It improves ether flow through the body and grants better control for improved strength, durability, stamina, and channeling into strikes. I know it's not much, but it's easy to use without any side effects."

"I imagine it makes carrying your giant pack easier," the young master said, nodding at the luggage still sitting beside the landing pad. It was as tall as Sam and twice as wide.

"It's part of the reason they gave me the job. I might not yet have a talent or spirit, but IEF lets me keep going harder and longer than your average scavenger. Although a good deal of them are significantly stronger than me."

"It's too bad your arts suck. You might've taken me otherwise. Do you know you hesitated a moment too long before launching your punches? I shouldn't have been able to hit you." Sam shrugged.

"I've never been much of a striker. In fact, my instincts when it comes to melee combat are pretty terrible."

"But your mastery over the two techniques you know is pretty incredible," the young master said.

"I spend most of my time training and practicing, but I'm not as good with any of my techniques as you are with Feather Step or Internal Ether Flow."

"Thank you?" Sam wasn't sure how to react. He hadn't received a compliment from any of his 'betters' ever before.

"People like you rarely put in the work, so it's a pleasant surprise." There we go. I knew something like that was coming.

"They throw all of their time and money at drinks, whoring, and gambling. It's disgusting to watch, really." Sam wanted to tell the young master about the horrors many of them faced, suffering incredible mental and spiritual trauma. Scavengers had the highest death rates in the wild. He had only been at the job for a few months but had already seen several colleagues and friends die. Drinking, gambling, and whoring were all that many of them could do to forget everything and hold onto their sanity.

"You shouldn't be a striker," the young master continued.

"You're horrible at it. A technique that works with Internal Ether Flow might be best."

"I'll try to save up for one after I have enough for a talent seed," Sam replied.

"Thank you for the guidance, young master. I'm Sam, by the way."

"Thomas Walton the Third." Thomas glanced over his shoulder at the vessel. Sam followed his gaze to the rangers and the other client, laughing over food and drink. They weren't paying attention to the men on the ground any longer. The young master reached inside his jacket, pulled out a cylindrical leather container, and handed it to Sam. It was two fingers thick and as long as his hand. Bold black letters painted on its side read: Pulsing Palm.

"I couldn't get much out of it," Thomas said.

"Palm techniques are all about controlling ether flow and driving a pulse into the opponent or releasing it as a burst. Martial arts, stance, and form help, but aren't compulsory to get the most out of them. I'm more of a striker. Reinforce and enhance, and strike. I only use it as a non-lethal option to stun and disable."

"And I can just keep this?" Sam asked, failing to conceal his surprise.

"It's not a gift. Consider it payment for the spar and for allowing me to test my new talent. Don't let your employers or anyone in the city see it."

"They'll think I stole the manual."

"Unfortunately, so. Good luck. I respect hard workers and hope you find whatever you're looking for." A loud whistle interrupted their conversation. The captain waved at the pair, gesturing for them to board.

"It looks like the other party is done," Sam stated.

"I should get the cargo on board." Thomas nodded. He stood, dusted himself off, and departed without another word. Sam swiftly pulled on his boots and jacket, and hid the technique in the latter before channeling Internal Ether Flow again. It suppressed the lingering discomfort from the palm strike and gave him the necessary strength to heft the massive backpack. Sam went around to the other side of the vessel and carried the luggage directly into the lower deck.

The airship's engines started, and it lifted off before he was done securing everything. Sam touched the leather cylinder hidden in his jacket's inner pocket as he ascended to the passenger deck, still struggling to comprehend what had just happened. He had grown so used to the awakened and their affluent children treating him poorly; the conversation and gift still felt surreal.