Chương 36: Power and poison

The air in the garrison yard was different. Before, Caleb had been a ghost, an anonymous trainee lost in the ranks. Now he was a landmark. As he moved through the pre-dawn air, a space cleared around him, a bubble of respect and fear that trailed him wherever he went. Other trainees fell silent as he passed, their faces caught between awe and envy.

"That's him!" one whispered, nodding discreetly toward Caleb.

"The one who cleared the old quarry. Mah cousin saw 'im bring the claws into the Hall, she did." The other boy scoffed.

"Alone? Don't be a idiot, Seth. My sister's crew - three High F-tiers, mind you - nearly got wiped out by a single matriarch last spring. Said it was like fighting a walking rockslide. No half-trained teen is doin' that on 'is own."

"The Guild doesn't lie about contracts," the first boy insisted.

"He did it." Caleb kept his expression neutral, noting the shift in the yard's pecking order. Across the way, Narbok stood with his usual cronies, rigid, and with a frosty look in his eyes that stifled his typical bluster. Their eyes met for a moment before Narbok deliberately turned away. The blast of a horn rang through the morning air, silencing every conversation. Captain Hatch strode into the yard with his polished metal armor bright in the early light.

An unfamiliar figure walked behind him, a woman in pristine white robes adorned with silver threading, her auburn hair braided with small bone charms that clinked softly with each step.

"FORM RANKS!" The group scrambled into formation, one hundred-some young people standing in neat rows facing their instructor. Caleb found himself in the second row directly behind Leo Tanner, whose shoulders were already hunched. Hatch surveyed the assembled group with penetrating brown eyes, lingering on Caleb before he spoke.

"The Reaping approaches, trainees. For you, this means more than simply a remembrance and a celebration." He grinned out at the assembly.

"It's time for our annual village youth tournament." Caleb groaned, while excited murmurs rippled through the ranks. A tournament? Wonderful. Juuust great. Another item for the long list of 'Local Customs That Might Get Me Killed.' This was the frustrating part about his memory. He should have all of Thal's experiences at his fingertips, yet they merely surfaced like a backseat driver yelling about missed turns after he had already passed them. A ridiculous thing to get annoyed about, of course.

You have a literal superpower, Foster. Some gratitude is probably in order. Hatch raised a palm for silence.

"The tournament will follow the format of the Sunforged Trials: single elimination matches over the final four days of the festival. However, participation is an honor that must be earned. Only the top forty performers from this Awakened cohort will be allowed to compete, as determined by my final evaluations over the coming days." Hatch gazed across the formation.

"You should consider this your first real battlefield. You will face full-contact combat with real weapons and real consequences." He gestured to the woman in white robes.

"Specialist Spinova of The Auric Medicus will oversee warding and medical treatment during the matches. Her presence means you will push yourselves to your absolute limits without fear of permanent injury." The captain hardened his words.

"It also means there are no excuses for holding back. You will fight as if your life depends on it, because someday… it will." Caleb felt his pulse quicken. The prospect of facing other trainees in formal combat without fear of death was… actually kind of exhilarating. His newfound abilities could be tested against real opponents with proper weapons, far different from creatures of tooth and claw.

"The top finishers will receive essence stones as prizes," Hatch continued.

"The reward will be tailored to your advancement and adjusted to each fighter's current attunement." A low rumble of confusion passed through the ranks.

"Third place will receive enough F-tier essence stones to bring every attribute in either the Martial or Mystic Path to the breakthrough threshold." The murmuring stopped, replaced by a stunned silence as the trainees processed the statement. It was a guaranteed path to the peak of their current tier.

"Second place will receive the same, with the additional stones required to bring their Vitality to the threshold as well. A complete foundation for a specialist's advancement." The silence broke. A wave of gasps and breathless whispers swept through the formation. That was a full breakthrough package, an entire tier's worth of progress handed to them on a platter.

"And the champion," Hatch declared, seeming to pin every trainee at once, "will receive enough stones to elevate all seven attributes. Enough to attempt a breakthrough on the Harmonic Path." The yard erupted. Shouts of disbelief and fervent desire drowned out all other sounds. The Harmonic Path was the domain of the noble Illuminet and wealthy Gilded families, a road to power paved with a fortune in stones.

For the Duskborn commoners who formed the bulk of the garrison trainees, it was a distant, unattainable dream. To be given the resources for it was unthinkable. Hatch let the noise swell for a moment before he dropped the final piece.

"Furthermore, for all three winners the value of any pre-existing attunement will be compensated with E-tier spirit stones." Caleb latched onto the last detail, replaying it with a flash of recognition. Well, would you look at that. Even Veraxus has rebates. Hatch's prize amounted to a money-back guarantee if you placed. Win, and your entry fee - every stone you burned getting ready - was returned in a more valuable currency. Brilliant for upping the stakes. And predatory.

The incentive pushed everyone toward their absolute limit. And it was an opportunity he had no intention of wasting. Essence stones… The prize elevated the stakes beyond simple bragging rights. He remembered a line from one of Thal's basic primers, a core rule of the system his own recent experiment had confirmed. The power from a stone was a fixed constant for its tier, a value identical from stone to stone.

But where an F-tier spirit stone granted five percent attunement with the Contamination tax, a similar tier essence stone gave a clean ten percent. No Contamination. The tournament offered a path to instant advancement, bypassing months of Contamination grinding for something forced to rely on spirit stones. More than that, it offered a direct route to the one path that could fully utilize his unique Soul Impartments if he were to claim the top spot. Assuming I can eventually learn some magic…

"You have nine days to prepare, trainees. Use them wisely. Now, let's start the morning with fundamental drills. First rank, advance!" As the day's exercises began, Caleb fell into the familiar pattern of spear work. The repetitive thrusts, blocks, and stances required little conscious thought, allowing his mind to drift as he replayed Hatch's words, zeroing in on the true value of the prize: acceleration.

Those stones were a straight line to the strength required to enter the Rootbound Depths, the only place he could find the specific moss his plans depended on. Heck, if he took first place he might be able to skip it entirely. To win that prize, however, would likely demand a level of power he didn't currently possess, a thought that immediately summoned the memory of the experiment he had performed just the night before. He had headed back down to the stables and started in the loft with a single stone.

[Agility has increased by 5. 00%; from 5. 00% to 10. 00%] [Spiritual Contamination has increased by 10. 00%; from 0. 00% to 10. 00%] Testing the change had been illuminating. He'd felt different: lighter, more responsive. When he moved through a basic spear form on the stable floor, he seemed more capable of executing the movements, flowing from position to position with a bit more grace.

But when he attempted to use [Flicker Step] or project his enhanced perception with Mana, the spiritual drag was immediately apparent. Mustering the energy for both abilities felt sluggish, like pushing water through a pipe obstructed with sand. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. [Agility has increased by 5. 00%; from 10. 00% to 15. 00%] [Spiritual Contamination has increased by 10. 00%; from 10. 00% to 20. 00%] The second stone had amplified both effects. His Agility reached 15%, and the physical improvements were undeniable. But the Spiritual Contamination at 20% deepened the cost. The grit in his channels thickened, coalescing into a restrictive clog. A simple [Flicker Step] now required a noticeable extra push of will to overcome the internal friction. [Agility has increased by 5. 00%; from 15. 00% to 20. 00%] [Spiritual Contamination has increased by 10. 00%; from 20. 00% to 30. 00%] The third stone had been the real test. At 20% Agility and 30% Contamination, the debuff started to become debilitating. His body was stacked with new potential, every muscle fiber enhanced and optimized. Yet each attempt to draw on his power ground through an internal resistance, sapping both his will and energy. Using [Dash] required nearly twice the normal Stamina expenditure, and maintaining Mana-injected perception for more than a few seconds left him with a splitting headache.

It's both power and poison I guess. Caleb didn't like the prospect of having to go into a serious fight with his current status, even after the one percent reduction from sleep last night. The change was barely noticeable. Hopefully, his glimmerdew moss contract would be fulfilled soon and he would be in fighting shape for the tournament. A piercing whistle brought him back to the present. Hatch was calling for a rotation, partnering trainees for controlled sparring.

Caleb ended up paired with a girl named Mira, a quiet human whose movements were economical and exacting. Her guard stayed compact, each block meeting his spear easily. As they went through the motions of attack and defense, he felt the honed reflexes from the night's experiment. His parries came faster, his counters more fluid. But when he tried to project his perception to track her aura and position, he felt that familiar drag, proof of the price he'd paid.

The main session concluded with the trainees dismissed for individual practice. Most scattered to work on specific weaknesses, but Leo lingered near the weapons rack, his shoulders slumped in dejection. When Caleb approached, the boy looked up, desperation and hope warring in his expression.

"Thal," Leo said quietly, glancing around.

"M-my father heard about the tournament... he told me this morning he expects me to uphold the Tanner name." The words tumbled out.

"H-he's going to force me to compete! He said he would pull strings with the captain to make sure I was on the roster. I'm scared… I don't know what to do. I don't think I can get out of it. Please, c-can you teach me? I know it's asking a lot, but—""Hey, what's this about training?" Corinne's cheerful voice interrupted as she bounced over. She looked between them, hazel eyes bright with excitement.

"Are you two planning extra sessions? Because I am so in! I've been thinking about the tournament all morning, and I need every edge I can get if I'm going to prove I'm ready to be an adventurer!" Before Caleb could respond, more footsteps announced the arrival of Narbok. The tall Mycari strode over with Finn and Durk flanking him, staring intently at Leo. Without warning, he shoved the smaller boy hard enough to send him stumbling.

"Training?" Narbok asked contemptuously.

"A baker's boy and a tavern girl, begging a half-breed for scraps because he managed to stick a few goblins." He finally turned to Caleb.

"Don't think your lucky stunt in the quarry makes you a warrior, dull-ear. Your luck will run out in the tournament. I will win. I will win, I will take the prize, and I will prove that the strength of the Mistblood is still to be feared in Deadfall." Behind Narbok, Finn tittered nervously while Durk cracked his knuckles. What a bunch of jokers. Could this be more cliche? I know they're basically idiot teenagers, but it's getting exhausting. Caleb straightened to his full height, calmly meeting Narbok's glare.

"You want to hear something I've learned, Mr. Mistblood? That the loudest people in the room are usually trying to convince themselves more than anyone else. But hey, if you want to prove your Mistblood superiority so badly, be my guest. The tournament's in nine days. Save it for then. I'm sure everyone will be very impressed." Each word wiped a little bit more of the sneer off Narbok's face than the last. Around them, several trainees suppressed smirks while Narbok flushed with rage.

He reached for the dagger at his belt, his body tensing. Glancing sideways, he caught Captain Hatch watching, and the strain bled from his shoulders as he deliberately forced himself to relax.

"You should be careful who you taunt, coward," Narbok snarled.

"In nine days I'll make you regret your words." He stalked away with his followers, the hostility slowly dissipating in his wake. Leo looked shaken but grateful, while Corinne practically buzzed with the confrontation's energy.

"Don't listen to that bully!" she said, clapping Leo on the shoulder.

"He's just scared because he knows you're going to surprise everyone!" Caleb nodded.

"Yeah, that settles it. Meet me out front of the Hearthsong's stables after dinner, both of you. We'll see if we can't get ourselves ready to put on a good showing." Leo broke into a relieved smile.

"Thank you, Thal. Really. I don't know how to repay—""Just show up ready to work." Caleb clapped him on the arm.

"That's payment enough." Corinne bounced on the balls of her feet, all but vibrating.

"Yes! I can't wait to show them what we can do!" The rest of the morning's session passed as Caleb worked methodically through his spear forms, feeling the improved Agility make each movement smoother and more precise. The impulse to augment a simple lunge with the force of a [Sundering Strike] was a constant temptation, a touch of power gathering in his muscles. Before it could form, he released the energy. No. Not yet. Every trainee in the yard was now a rival, their eyes searching for an edge, a weakness.

He would give them nothing to study but the predictable lines of a common spearman. As the session concluded and trainees began filing out of the yard, Caleb made his way toward the Golden Mortar. His appointment with Selara awaited, and he was looking forward to getting back out into the field. The alchemist's shop appeared as pristine and intimidating as ever, its smoked glass windows reflecting the morning light.

Caleb pushed through the solid door and inside the shop remained empty of customers, towering shelves displaying their sparse, museum-quality inventory.

"Punctual. That is good, Thalorin." Selara emerged from the back room.

"You'll be working back here today." Not field work? She led him past the immaculate public space, through the laboratory where Aurelian hunched over a complex apparatus of bubbling glass and copper coils. His attention was completely consumed by the slow drip of a vibrant blue liquid into a waiting beaker. Selara navigated the maze of equipment, stopping before a heavy wooden door Caleb hadn't noticed before. Iron bands reinforced it, and an impressive lock held it shut until she produced a key from her void ring.

What lay beyond the door matched the shop's public face perfectly: a storeroom of meticulous order, neatly labeled crates stacked in exact columns, barrels arranged in orderly rows. The air was cool and dry, smelling of cedar and pine. In the far corner, however, stood another structure: a plain partition of unpainted wood with a narrow door. Selara crossed the clean floor and opened the basic latch. She pushed it open to reveal a den of barely contained chaos.

"Welcome to your new home: the archive," she said, gesturing to the room beyond. The archive was crammed to bursting. Shelves lined every wall from floor to ceiling, packed with jars, vials, boxes, and containers of every conceivable size and shape. The space was thick with overlapping scents: herbs, minerals, preservatives, and things he couldn't identify. Labels in various scripts covered most containers, though some bore only cryptic symbols.

Barely large enough for two people to stand in, the room was overflowing. And squeezed against the far wall was a tiny desk that looked ready to collapse under the weight of the books stacked upon it. A single wooden chair sat in front, its seat worn smooth by use. But it was the books on the desk that made Caleb's heart skip. A massive stack of lore towered precariously, easily two feet high.

A few volumes were thick, their leather covers dry and brittle to the touch, spines cracked like old riverbeds and the pages within the color of sun-bleached bone. Others looked like they could have been fresh out of a printing press. Some even bore titles in languages he didn't recognize. Selara smiled a little too sharply.

"You have proven you can handle yourself in a fight, my apprentice." She gestured to the intimidating pile of knowledge.

"But being a good forager, and indeed a good adventurer, is about much more than being able to stab something that wants to kill you." She smirked.

"I expect you to read these. All of them. You will be done when you think you are ready to proceed. Naturally, I shall be the judge of that." Without another word, she stepped back and closed the door, leaving Caleb alone in the cramped storeroom with his new task. The silence pressed in around him, broken only by the soft settling of old wood and the distant sounds of Aurelian's work. Caleb grinned. Holy mackerel, I've struck the motherlode!

Selara probably expected a teen like Thal would be overwhelmed at the task she had left behind, considering he would barely have had enough schooling to pull off reading and writing out here. But Caleb couldn't be more excited to finally put [Savant of the Mind] to the test. He approached the desk eagerly, trying to determine where to start.

He could make out several titles embossed in faded gold leaf: A Compendium of Virethane Flora, Foraging Basics: A Primer for Budding Adventurers, and On the Nature of Forest Spirits. The topmost volume was bound in black leather with silver clasps, its title even more daunting:"Ecological Dynamics of the Virethane: A Thorough Study of Territorial Behaviors in Endemic Megafauna." Caleb pulled out the chair and sat down. He had nine days until the tournament.

He needed every advantage he could get, and he'd just been served this mountain of accumulated knowledge. Maybe there was something that could help him? He opened the first book and began to read.