The change was noticeable. Almarine watched Arson start small. She doubted what she was seeing at first. Yet as he completed more and more natural trials, she knew. “But will you find it in time?” She by no means had any plans of stopping him, or even acknowledging that he was completing the challenges. The land rich with mana would often create obstacles of its own, which the system would reward cultivators for completing with the deeper understanding of runes connected to their own specific mana type. While those like Arson, only gained mana. Without a core, future cultivators risked tapping into energies that would snuff out their souls in an instant. So the system gave mortals a higher chance to gain a core, through the giving of small amounts of ambient mana held in the environment. Arson climbed a particularly interesting tree called an Oakenrubiks. The tree from the outside looked like a normal tree formed a spiral staircase from its own branches and foliage toward a large flat topped apex of multi colored leaves, each leaf larger than the boy himself. The puzzle was seemingly easy, a matching of colors that forced the challenger to use rapid movements not to be struck by the moving branches, nor flung free of a branch lifted after being triggered by an improper choice in the sequence. Almarine watched him be flung about and fall a handful of times before he understood fully what he’d gotten himself into. He taught himself through trial and error and eventually made it to the top of the trees platform like canopy. Almarine waited for Arson to celebrate the minor victory, but instead he honed in on another target in the distance, gave a single nod and rushed off. It seemed that Arson was going to do everything that involved him being high up, but Almarine could see and sense that his fear rose the higher he was positioned with every challenge he encountered. The more challenges he completed, the more Almarine would freeze in anticipation. Each completed challenge gave more or less mana than the first, and Arson’s body should only be able to consume so much mana before his core creation would be triggered. Why… The amount of mana that the child had already been granted three days later was enough to start the process for any of her own previous disciples, but not Arson. Almarine watched Arson swim into a small lake that was near to an abandoned clearing within the orphanage, he was so far from the main portion of the grounds that she watched from a crouched position atop the roof. It was the only point that she could get an angle that would allow for her to see across the vast distance, and she wanted to see how he would handle his next challenge. It was once more that she watched him fail continually, as the challenge within the lake was to be able to pull a powerful mana stone from one of the lowest points within the waters. Almarine knew what kinds of stones could be found there, and unless he learned to breathe underwater, he would have to move on to a new challenge before he would be able to complete a task of this magnitude without an expanded lung capacity or gills. “I’m glad to see you understand your limits, my boy. Now try a new challenge you don’t have much time.” … Arson sat at the shore of the lake he now knew had mana stones with so much energy stored within, they could be seen through the darkness of the abyss that was the depths he’d dove through in front of him. He continuously cupped his hand, and pushed down on the surface of the water, testing something while he felt the captured air rush passed his fingertips. If I could trap the air some how, maybe I could get to the bottom? Then began a series of experiments. Arson was seen on a search through the orphanage’s main property. His normal interactive character was far more reserved and focused than normal, and the change left many confused, and even more orphans unsettled. Many knew Almarine had a favorite, but now that her favorite had adopted not only her habitual introverted mood swings, and vigorous internal drive, many felt what had once made Almarine less wound up and frustrated, had been lost to the stresses of aging. Arson was a toddler, yes, but spoke like a teenager, and had the confidence of a young adult. Even without the knowledge or skill to back up his bravado, he found a way to be left alone in his hunt for power over the next few days. He did finish many other tasks, but Almarine was shocked to see him return to the lake, an old wooden tub being dragged behind him on a sled. Almarine was proud of the physical training the young man was putting himself through. The assumption of the tub being used like a boat was fresh in her mind, until Arson flipped the bath for children on its head near the shoreline, settled it over his head, and sat deep enough in the lake that both he and the boat were completely submerged. The only thing left visible a slight portion of the bottom side of the tub. What are you doing boy… Almarine was rewarded with an answer when the boat moved further into the lake and a large bubble of water burst from underneath the tub, and rushed to the surface. The gush of trapped air only a moment faster than the gasping Arson himself. “No, child, you can’t be serious,” said Almarine on top of the roof once more. She shook her head in wonderment of what she was witnessing. She didn’t know if she should truly allow him to try what he intended or just step in and end the dangerous attempt. Arson obviously was taking the utmost care, moving with cautious and precise movements, but one slip up at the bottom of a lake and Arson could find himself drowning in a flash. “What if the tub grows too heavy for you to handle, you fool!” Arson couldn’t hear her complaints, and after Arson managed to return with a small core nowhere near to the greatest depths, but still far enough to obtain a core, Almarine grew even more worried. Stay cautious, don’t get too excited and you may be able to… Almarine rose to her feet when the tub rose from the depths of the water a third of the way in, accompanied by an explosion of trapped air, but no Arson. She scanned the water rapidly, wishing the use of her mana wasn’t being hindered by the dense clusters of unused buildings around her. The system-given mana constructs more than enough to house the homeless and many more in need, instead used to detain Almarine instead. Almarine was moving so quickly that colors blurred around her, her heartbeat the only thing she could feel and hear in the moments she believed Arson to be drowning. The moment she made it to the tree line nearest to the lake, Arson’s head bursted free of the lake. He gasped for breath and struggled to pull the mana core he managed to pull from the depths to the shore. The orphan mother didn’t even remember how she’d gotten off the rooftop. Nor running most of the distance. He struggled and even as he made it ashore, and passed out, she wanted to rush to aid him. She closed the distance after Arson seemed to have fallen asleep. The mana stone he’d gotten was as large as his head, and worth enough that some Cultivators would murder every woman, child, and man within the orphanage to receive one half its size. “What am I going to do with you,” said Almarine. As she pulled Arson’s wet hair from his face and smiled down at him. She constructed a small array from wind mana, and left a message in the air. The sound of her voice recorded to play moments after Arson lifted his head from the ground. “You never cease to amaze me,” said Almarine with a smile. She lifted the mana stone in one hand, shook her head, and strode back toward the Orphanage. … When Arson woke up, he sat upright as if he’d been scared awake by a nightmare. A nightmare that had been a reality only moments prior as he had authentically almost drowned, and was surprised to see himself ashore. “What did Khalif call it, survival instinct, right, maybe my fight or flight or whatever he called it kicked in,” said Arson to himself. Then he looked around for his prize, and saw that it was no where to be found. “Or maybe someone saved me and took my prize for their own,” said Arson with a sigh before Almarine's voice came whispered on the winds as if she stood right next to Arson. Sigils and Symbols visible in the breeze that manifested momentarily around his head. “I’m proud of you, boy, but you passed out before you managed to protect your treasure, for not properly handling such a prominent resource, I am confiscating it until a later time when you are ready for its usage. Until then be happy you maintained your life, boy,” said the voice of Almarine before silence returned and Arson rose to his feet. The consideration to try again briefly crossing his mind before he dismissed the idea and headed back to his perch atop the roof of the orphanage to plan his next step. His mind flickered from thought to thought. He worried whether or not his efforts were in vain. He felt stronger everyday, but still nothing he did gave him the confidence to say he would become as strong as Almarine. Or his new favorite fighter, Jade of CloudLake, his favorite could change honestly as frequently as everyday, but still the woman stuck out to him. He wanted to learn to fight like Jade, and wield the hands in the sky just as he had seen Almarine. He made that his only focus and put it on a list he kept mentally. He often would go back through his memory to check to see if he’d forgotten to add anything to his list. His memory flowing like the holograms he watched everyday, with the exception being the scenes after his birth, somehow muddled and distorted by effects from the system he didn't understand, but was very eager to interact with. I’ll find out why my mother gave me away, and show her what my value really is. Arson didn’t make it inside the orphanage, before he remembered the building he continued to skip over. He didn’t know why he felt the urge to run whenever he got close to the building, but he wanted to. Not very many other things gave him the innate sense that he should run, other than an angry Almarine, and the caves he didn’t dare enter. The sensation grew and Arson had to fight to ignore it the closer he got. Every step required a deep breath. He found it strange that he was sweating while taking single steps forward, but set that aside. More and more distractions filled his mind to the point that the building in front of him became blurry in his vision. Arson forced his eyes closed, stretched his arms out in front of him, and continued. His thoughts became loud to a degree that Arson became aware that an external force must be interacting with him. He would never yell at himself to turn and run away from something that may bring him one step closer to becoming a cultivator. His steps became shaky as he heard his own voice telling him to turn around, turn left, turn right, all at the same time. “No, just put one foot in front of the other Arson, listen to yourself, and see where it takes you,” Arson said to himself with another few steps forward. A pressure grew, and Arson felt his ears pop in a strange way before he felt he could once more breathe freely. He slowly opened his eyes with a rapid blink to clear his vision, and was perplexed by what he saw around himself. … Almarine was absolutely flummoxed. She didn’t even remember that she’d indicated that anything was there, but in that moment she regretted ever drawing the building, that was not a building at all. Formations had been engraved around the bottom, and top of a mountain. The mountain had a clear path from top to bottom on four sides. While the spacial runes made the mountain appear as if it wasn’t there. Illusionary runes at the top made what was truly there appear to be a building. From a far the runes made everything seen by the cultivator appear to dazzle the eye. Entice anyone who looked upon it to want to explore. Until one stood at the base of the mountain, an incredible distance between the cultivator and the apex edge disguised as a few yards separating them from one of the most interesting constructions of architecture they’d ever seen. To be pulled through space up the side of the mountain across the large spans of inclined terrain, the formations used the mana within the cultivator’s own body. Only one other of Almarine’s disciples had ever experienced what Arson just had, only they failed to make it to the apex. The first disciple to attempt the challenge had more than enough mana, far more mana than Arson in fact, and could have completed the challenge easily if she had done the one thing that Arson had. He closed his eyes. Most of the challenge was made more horrific by what was seen and heard while an individual pushed up the side of the mountain. Once the first three steps were managed, cultivators began to see and hear things. See demons behind themselves whilst the sight in front of them became even more inviting. Once passed the halfway point up the mountain side, the illusions inverted. The way back became free and welcoming, while the sight before them turned into a dungeon from their grandest nightmares. Beast from dungeons appeared from times most cultivators in the current age had never seen before. Drakes and horned-demon hawks battled the skies, and winged lions and sphinxes swooped toward the cultivator, a mixture of elements bringing the illusions to life, giving the constructs the ability to physically knock the challenger off their feet. Arson ignored most of these illusions entirely, but should have been stopped by the mental runes set in place to fight the will of the challenger. Only, as a child, Arson’s mind wasn’t pulled into the million directions an adult found their own minds yanked toward by fears, and common everyday distractions. He had one goal, become a cultivator. If what he found here would grant that, then he was going to push forward. Having seen a building in front of him, the moment his vision began to fail him, he closed his eyes and trusted the rest of his senses. This was a trial that Arson barely survived, the amount of mana required to get to the top was only met, because of the life force he gave the slightest amount of to take the final step which didn’t matter, as the floating object in front of Arson spat a gush of mana in a continual pulse, a restorative measure allotted to any who could manage to make it from bottom to top. Even before Arson could wipe the blood from his face, the energy pulled the liquid back into his body through his pores in a cleansing wash of energy that swept across him from top to bottom. Almarine clapped, and waited for Arson to celebrate, but once more, he did not. A single nod given to himself, as if the astonishing accomplishment was his duty. Something to be expected of him to be completed like a chore. Arson’s face had obvious questions, and she knew that if he didn’t skip their nightly conversations as he had been, she would be asked about this for sure. “Lets hope he doesn’t figure it out…”
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