“You acquit yourself well, Disciple, but raw aggressiveness will only take you so far. Physical Augmentation is a delicate art. Without focus and discipline, it will consume you entirely.”
I nodded. “I’ve seen power consume others before.”
“In Wilds and the uninitiated, perhaps. Always keep a mind to your Path.” He nodded. “You are bursting with questions, no doubt. You have the privilege of three before we conclude your training for the evening.”
I organized my thoughts and asked the first one on my mind.
“Kegohr can do something similar to this. He calls it the Spirit of the Wildfire. I’ve seen it boost his strength and resistance to damage before. Is he using Physical Augmentation?”
The Hierophant raised an eyebrow. “It certainly sounds as though he is. Wilds instinctively reach toward more fundamental principles of Augmentation to survive. Your friend burns with a strong affinity for fire, and as such, he seems to have learned to use it without formal training.”
“Kumi has her own technique that only affects the environment around her. She sings, controls water with her voice, and uses it to heal wounds and restore energy. It’s not Physical Augmentation, so what is it exactly?”
“The famed Song of the Sea of the Qihin people,” the Hierophant replied. “It is a unique skill, to be sure, but it uses the principles of Environmental, rather than Physical, Augmentation. She is restricted in her knowledge, but you will learn its principles in time.”
I held back a smile and chose my last question carefully.
“What forms of Augmentation do you intend to teach me?” I asked.
“Physical, Spiritual, and Environmental. These are the fundamentals rarely utilized in the Seven Realms except by the most learned students of the monasteries. The Swordslingers who came before you died before they could access the fullest secrets of their art. Some prevailed, and legends tell of their transcendence to the plane of the Demigods. But, while you show promise, you are young and inexperienced.” The Hierophant stood and gestured for me to do the same. “Your training will continue each day when the sun is highest in the sky. You have proven yourself worthy, Ethan Murphy Lo Pashat, and we of the Dying Sun pledge to your formation as the Immortal Swordslinger.”
I bowed in gratitude. “Thank you.”
“The cells are simple enough to find. Take one of the exits and rest. Breakfast begins at dawn. You would do well not to miss it.”
“I won’t.”
I scooped up the Immense Blades and made my way to the left side of the hall, where I’d seen my friends take their leave earlier. The three dragon spirits within the weapons spun into my mind, a whirlwind of excited voices.
“Oh, sweet man, you make us proud to serve you,” Nydarth said. “To match blows with one of such power is no small feat. I feel the flame within you, stronger and brighter than ever. You must press on and free me so that I may reward you for your labors.”
“Gods, are all dragon spirits so base?” Choshi asked in disgust.
“Nydarth is passionate by nature,” Yono answered, “with no appreciation for the subtler shifts in ocean or pond. But she speaks truly, Master. Your power grows, and with it, our own.”
I pushed open the door, leaving the hall and the Hierophant behind me. Gleaming black stone reflected the light of the soft lanterns on the walls, guiding me toward a series of doors at the far end of the hallway. Intricate carvings had been set into the walls, and ancient representations of gods and dragons whirled over them with wild abandon. Gold trimming gleamed around the images of the mighty creatures.
“Your kin, Nydarth?” Choshi asked.
“Indeed. My mighty ancestors who ruled the Realms millennia ago.” Nydarth sighed. “They have fallen into obscurity, reincarnated into lower forms. A pity, but perhaps a necessary one.”
A single door in the hallway was open. I walked through it and found myself in a small cell that the monks had assigned to me as my bedroom. A bunk sat to the left side, a small bookshelf lined the right wall, and a little shrine stood directly ahead of me.
Candles flickered upon the tiny altar, drawing my attention to the weapon stand upon it. There was room for three staff-sized weapons. I took a moment to unstrap the Depthless Dream and the Demure Rebirth from their place in the harness.
“They even provided us with a place to rest,” Yono observed. “How courteous.”
Choshi yawned. “It’s been a big day, and I’ve taken a pounding. Rest well, Master.”
Nydarth snorted as I placed the warhammer upon the stand. “And she calls me base.”
“She’s but a child, Nydarth,” Yono chided. “She needs time to learn and to grow.”
“You’re quiet, Master,” Nydarth observed. “What ails you?”
I paused to think about it. “I believe there’s something deeper at work behind the sudden arrival of the monastery. And I want to know if Tolin knows the Hierophant and the monks. Their training is incredible, and I’m not about to waste the opportunity, but still... Something feels off.”
“Perhaps you’ve spent too much time fighting, Master,” Yono suggested as I placed the trident down above the warhammer. “There is not always some enemy to fight, and not all conflict involves death and destruction. It rises, crashes, and fades into the whole once again. Perhaps it is time to appreciate a still sea while you have it.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” I said. “Good night.”
“Dream deeply, Master.” Yono left my thoughts.
I examined the Sundered Heart. “What do you think about all of this?”
“You should do as you always have, Swordslinger,” Nydarth purred. “Grow in power. Slay the unjust. And continue to tend to your women. I have no doubt that, if something should go awry, you’ll be ready to deal
