Chương 69: Meditation

The carriage was cool considering the heat of the day, as long as Aaron didn't lean against the metal walls. The smell of humid air rose in through the vents into the cart. He was cramped back under the staff, which had to slot in diagonally across the cart. Alex, Paige and Tim all looked just as displeased as he felt. But who could blame them? It had been a long two weeks. Aaron closed his eyes and focused. It was time to put his new talent to the test and start enhancing his body.

Parts of him were toughened already where he'd healed injuries over. He was glad he found a way to strengthen himself without having to heal things back stronger, otherwise he'd need to break his bones hundreds of times to achieve the desired effect. How does this meditation thing work? I guess it's just extreme focus and channelling my mana into my own bones and muscles. Just like animating a corpse but… my bones instead of some rotting carcass. He crossed his legs over, accidentally knocking Tim in the thigh.

He must have been zoned out or too polite because he didn't say a word. He exhaled deeply through pursed lips, making a long huffing sound, then inhaled slowly. He cycled his breaths a few times and focused on drawing his mana out into his body.

"Whatcha doing?" Alex said.

"Focusing."

"Why?" He asked. Aaron sighed and opened his eyes to see the bard staring at him uncomfortably close. He leaned back in his seat and folded his arms.

"What? I'm bored, okay. I just want to make conversation."

"I've got a new talent, but I need to meditate deeply and focus on using it. So if you wouldn't mind keeping it quiet, I'd appreciate it."

"How does your song go again, Alex?" Paige jeered.

"Alright, screw it. I give up. What do you want to talk about?" Aaron huffed.

"I don't know, what do you want to talk about?" Aaron slammed his head into his palm. Two whole weeks of sitting in the cart opposite this moron was taking its toll on his psyche.

"We were meant to be going over the plan," Tim said, slipping out a half smile. He was obviously amused by Aaron's irritation.

"Okay, we can do that now. The camp is a headquarters and training facility for the Order of the Rising Sun. A Necromancer and undead hunting guild…. But you know that already. There are tiers of recruits, similar to what you're familiar with. Novice, Journeyman, and so on. And there are also different roles, such as warriors, supports, intelligence, and leadership. You'll be expected to fit into one of these functions when we arrive. The best place for all of us to be is in the warrior group.

I know some recruits there, and it'll be simple grunt work and training drills. It will be easy to stay discreet." Alex screwed up his forehead and went to speak, but Paige interrupted.

"Yes, I know. Physical work sounds hard. We have different plans for you. You'll join intelligence where your psychic magic can be put to good use."

"Phew," Alex said with an exaggerated wipe of his brow.

"I won't be joining the warriors either. I'm going to join the supports. I've always been a healer, and what better place to develop my powers?" Aaron said.

"No, that's dumb. You'll get discovered before you can cast a handful of spells," Paige replied.

"I was a Spirit Healer for years. I know how it works, and I know how they think. I can make my magic look the same by healing slowly and topping people up little by little." Paige frowned. She didn't look convinced. But Aaron wasn't going to be told where to go. He knew what he was doing.

"And what about my condition?" Tim asked. Paige turned away from Aaron, but not before throwing him a severe side-eye.

"Giddeon co-founded the order, and he knows people. Their best healers will work with you to help you control it."

"Control it? What about turning me back to normal?" He asked. Paige hesitated a moment, then smiled at Tim.

"Yeah, they'll do everything they can. If it's possible, I'm sure they'll find a way." Aaron shook Tim's shoulder gently, but he didn't turn to him or smile. He stared forwards at Paige without blinking, then looked down and twirled his fingers together.

"I'll be working with the healers. I'll make sure there's a way. And remember, the curse is gone now. He has no control over you anymore. You've just got the good bits and the power left over from it. It's yours to use how you like." Tim kept looking down at his fingers.

"Turning into a monster doesn't feel like a good bit. I don't know, Aaron. I know the curse is gone and it doesn't make sense. But I still feel like he's there."

"No, it makes sense. It will take some time to heal. We'll get there," Alex said. Tim looked up and smiled.

"Thanks, Alex." The conversation lightened up from there. Aaron desperately wanted to talk about his staff. Who could fix it? How long would it take? Would they keep the Necromancy part of it a secret? It's a given that they'd figure out the type of magic. Even if they didn't detect it with a tome or seer magic, it had a skull at the top. But it wasn't a good time to ask. Tim looked upset, and the conversation had finally taken a more positive turn. Giddeon said he had a plan, and he would have to trust him.

As much as Giddeon despised Necromancers, he said the staff was better off in Aaron's hands than with the leadership of the camp. He didn't elaborate why, but given how much he despised Necromancers, it must have been a pretty decent reason. The chatter quietened later into the afternoon, and everyone backed off into their own heads. Aaron waited for Alex to start snoring before even thinking about meditating because the idiot would surely start yapping again the moment he closed his eyes.

With a stroke of fortune, the bard's head fell back, and a string of saliva dribbled out the side accompanied by a deep snort and long rhythmic breaths. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Aaron folded his legs up and crossed them over, then relaxed into his seat. The firm fabric felt like stone after hours of sitting still, but he shifted his weight around and found a spot that was slightly more accommodating.

He closed his eyes and reached for his mana, activating his Manipulate ability. He should be able to improve his physical attributes through spending mana in a meditative state. How to meditate and improve them was the real question. Meditating was a foreign concept. Tim told him once about Seers who used it to enhance their abilities of foresight, but he'd never tried it himself.

In theory, it would have helped empower his True Sight, but he'd only ever used it to diagnose his patients and never needed the additional power. But still, he pressed on. He cycled his breaths in long counts. Three heartbeats inhaling. Hold. Three heartbeats exhaling. Repeat. He focused on each breath and cleared his mind, although focusing on not thinking just made him want to think more. Over a few minutes, his focus deepened, and with it, chilled mana pulsed through his body like ice through his veins.

The sensation was distinctive, but not painful. It was easy to fixate on to draw his meditation deeper. The world outside his mind was blank. His thoughts were cleared of everything, except for his breathing and the power flowing through him. And then the ice went still and heavy, and sank deep into his chest. The freezing wave forced him to take a sharp inhale, like he'd jumped into a frozen lake. His focus faltered, and he opened his eyes.

Aaron blinked hard and rubbed his eyes as he looked around the infirmary's morgue. He was there in mind, except everything was muted and faint. His hands swayed and blurred in front of his eyes as he shook them to test the reality he found himself in. Is this another vision? Have I been pulled into Selezar's gaze again? No, this feels different. It's like a dream, and I feel in control of this place. He looked closer at the morgue.

There were several jars of preserved organs dotted around the benches at the back of the room. This was nothing unusual. Except the contents were strange. And the rest of the room was effectively empty. There should have been equipment like knives, empty jars and tables, but it was just empty space. Aaron walked up to the jars and inspected them more closely. They were large glass cylinders, as wide as a melon and as tall as a sword. They were filled with a grim beige liquid.

Sediment settled at the bottom of each one, and Aaron got the impression that it would look like a sandstorm if he shook it up. The first jar contained a strip of pink flesh. The colours were dusky and muted, but the pattern and structure were clearly visible. Aaron used his True Sight, but nothing responded. He couldn't reach his mana or abilities here. He scratched his head and looked closer. Lines were running up the unidentified preserved viscera in the jar.

They all ran in the same direction from bottom to top. It was muscle. Aaron recognised the organised groups of tissue all facing the same direction. Like a slice of ham. He moved on to the next jar. It was the same size and filled with a similar disgusting liquid. Not that he would try it, or even could try it wherever he was, but he imagined it would make him very ill to drink it. The contents of this one were much more obvious. It contained a long bone, likely from the thigh.

He worked his way around the room identifying each one. There was a plane of skin in one jar, which was stretched out on metal hooks. Another had nerves from a spine, collected in a long strip like a bundle of straw. Finally, a heart nested in a pair of lungs floated to the top of the final jar. He'd seen it before when he dissected cadavers as an apprentice Spirit Healer, but it always fascinated him to see the web of blood vessels netting over a heart. So what am I supposed to do with these?

I'm meditating right now, and my mind has created this room. I'm doing this to channel mana into my body and increase my physical attributes. So maybe these represent parts of my body. Aaron's thoughts echoed around the room as if they were being spoken out loud. He looked around the plain white walls, shrugged, and then focused back on the jars. So muscle is obvious; it means strength. Heart and lungs are stamina and endurance. Skin and bone are probably more literal and just mean toughening them up. But nerves?

They control muscles and sensation. So I guess they will increase my reflexes and speed. This place was created in my mind, so surely I should know. I doubt anyone else's subconscious would visualise a morgue and some pickled body parts of all things. Do I have to choose one or can I put mana into all of them? And how do I even do it here? And with that thought, a table appeared at the back of the room. It neither made a sound nor disturbed the air in the slightest.

But a tickle at the back of Aaron's mind told him something was there. The table was plain pale oak with age rings marbled through it. There were scuff marks along the edges from chronic use. A large metal chef's pot sat atop it with a ladle inside. Aaron went up onto his toes and peered in. A shallow pool of blue glistening fluid sat at the bottom of the pot. Glittery specs swirled around in soothing patterns. Well, if the jars at the back represent my body, this must be my mana.

Or a representation of my mana pool. Here goes nothing. He grabbed the ladle and scooped up some of the blue liquid. He turned and walked steadily over to the jars. Five paces in, some of the liquid sloshed up the side of the ladle and dropped onto the floor. It instantly evaporated and rose up from the floor, then flew across the room and returned to the pot. Aaron frowned, but didn't let his irritation break his focus.

He could only carry a small amount at a time, and if he dropped some with each trip, it would take hours to empty the pot. Stepping one foot forward, carefully keeping his hips perfectly square, he finally reached the jars. He let out a sigh of relief as he evened his weight out between both feet and held the ladle steady. Only about half of the mana was left in the spoon, but it was better than nothing. I probably should have thought about where to put the mana first.

All of these attributes seem important, and I don't think I should be specialising in one. But I've been working on toughening my skin to withstand swords. I'll focus on that for now to get an idea of how quickly this works and then try the others later. Aaron placed his hand under the bulk of the spoon, instead of holding the handle, and lifted it up above his head to reach over the jar. He then poured it over the top into the beige liquid below.

The glittery blue mana swirled around the surface for a couple of heartbeats, then dispersed and diluted until he couldn't tell it was there at all. The dusky grey plane of skin didn't change. And Aaron definitely felt no different. He'd only put one spoon in. Well, half a spoon after everything he spilt on the floor. Maybe after emptying the container, it would make a more noticeable change. Aaron continued for what felt like hours.

Even though he wasn't physically in the room, his shoulder and core burned from steadying the ladle for hundreds of trips back and forth. He had not anticipated feeling physical pain in a place in his mind, but then again he was making this up as he went along. He wished for a bigger spoon, but he figured this was probably a visual representation of how difficult it was to channel his mana in the correct way to strengthen his body. An annoying one of that. He chucked the ladle back into the pot with a loud clang.

It was finally empty. He flexed his shoulder by rotating his arm, then reached upwards to stretch his back out. Although he decided afterwards that it was pointless, as this wasn't even his real body. He was still sitting in a cart meditating. With a thought of returning to his body, he blinked, and the world around him changed. He was back in the carriage, but it was dark and empty. Everyone had left, and it was nighttime. With difficulty, he unfolded his legs and placed them down in the foothold in front of him.

They were completely numb. It felt like stones were attached to his shoes, making it impossible to lift each leg up. Within a few moments, sensation came back into them, but with a rush of stinging and throbbing. He forced himself to stand up, steadying himself on the walls and walked around until the pain subsided. He made a mental note to meditate without crossing his legs next time and then opened the door and stepped outside of the cart. The smell of rot smacked him in the face.

It was sickly sweet like decaying compost. It was too dark to see, but he knew exactly what it was. He was standing on the edge of corrupted land. Giddeon's voice called from behind the cart.

"Get over here and eat. We're going through that tomorrow."