Rise CHAPTER 16 - Did I Do That?

Jiran jolted awake with a gasp. He frantically grasped at the gaping hole in his back that oozed with flesh-devouring acid. His fingers ran over slightly bumpy but whole skin. The sensations of new scars with a noticeable lack of dripping blood and flesh brought him out of his state of delirium.

With a huge sigh of relief, he sat on his bed and stared at the plaster wall. The birds chirping on his windowsill brought a calm normality that helped him further ease back into a restful state of mind.

https://imgur.com/ghzPO18 

Samris must have saved me. He said he was going to, I guess it slipped my mind in the chaos. I keep waking up after nearly dying. This can’t be healthy.

Now that I’m relaxed, I feel fine. I wonder if mana also passively heals mental trauma as well as physical. I suppose anything is possible when it comes to magic cheat codes.

I need to think about that fight and figure out what I did wrong. I can’t let this outcome become something that happens often or eventually I won’t be waking up.

Jiran closed his eyes to check the attribute increases he could feel burning a hole in his eyelids.

Strength + .2

Agility + .2

Endurance + .1

Durability + .5

Wisdom + .3

Oh, cookies! Yum.

Is it scary that I no longer question why writing magically appears in my eyes? Everything I have seen so far implies a larger consciousness is involved with mana and density. No wonder those people go so crazy at Mom’s church.

Back on track, Jiran!

That’s the biggest increase to Durability I’ve received so far. Must be because I got so messed up. Makes sense. Destroy the body, repair the body, Durability one-oh-one.

No Intelligence again, and no increases to Molding and Forcing even though I’ve noticed them both getting easier to use. What’s up with that?

I am getting Wisdom when I fight. Could it be that Wisdom is what governs my control over mana? Does that mean Intelligence is more a value of critical thinking? Irrelevant for now, moving on.

I already know skills and techniques increase based on my understanding of them. A higher level value only controls the automated activations, not the manual control I’ve been using.

I should practice more with the automatic versions to free up my focus in fights.

On that note, what went wrong with the stupid gremlins?

Emotions.

I got emotional several times and each time led to a further mistake that compounded my disadvantages.

I was scared before the fight even started, which led me to stand like an idiot instead of finding a more advantageous position where I couldn’t be surrounded.

Then I got scared again and jumped too early, leaving myself wide open.

I got angry after being hurt and lost my focus which allowed one of them to get behind me.

Emotions were my downfall. But I need emotions to control my mana! How am I supposed to be emotional but not at the same time?

Unable to come up with a solution, Jiran distracted himself by checking his leg. He found a new scar there, misshapen, bright-white skin covered a full third of his calf. He couldn’t see his back but felt the same rough skin on his fingertips.

Jiran closed his eyes once more as he ran mana through his body. He concentrated it into the areas he was still injured, hoping the healing nature of the energy would speed up his recovery.

Several minutes later, a soft knock at the door disturbed his focus.

“Lord Feylon has requested your presence in his study,” Jiran heard soft footfalls retreating from his door before he had a chance to respond.

He dressed quickly despite the protests from his injuries. A few minutes later he knocked on Samris’s door.

When the door swung open on its own, he took the invitation and entered. The door clicked shut behind him, the wards activated, and Samris motioned toward a chair in front of his desk.

“You’re recovering well, Jiran. Amazing what a couple days of bed rest can do for a young body.”

“A couple days? Truly?” Samris gravely nodded at Jiran’s question.

“Indeed, your duties as my squire have been accumulating. I expect you will attend to them post haste.”

“Yes, Lord Feylon,” Jiran nodded vigorously.

“Now, let us discuss your failure with the beasts.”

Jiran was instantly flooded with embarrassment. In his disappointment, he was unable to hold eye contact so he focused on the wall behind Sarmis.

“You performed splendidly, Jiran,” The words left Jiran’s jaw hanging wide.

“Huh?”

“If you were the scion of a royal family anywhere in the realm, there would already be a banquet underway in your honor. Nearly emerging victorious from a battle with six beasts of your own tier is a feat worthy of admiration.”

His words held praise, but his tone and narrowed eyes told a different story. In the most serious voice Jiran had heard from the man, he continued.

“There are two inexorable rules for those who choose to tread the path of ascending the tiers,” He held up a single finger.

“Never fight a beast of a higher tier than yourself, even in a group,” He held up a second finger.

“Never fight more than one beast of the same tier as yourself, unless in a group that outnumbers them five to one,” He folded his fingers into a fist and slammed it on his desk.

“Your fight was beyond reckless. The fact you discovered Forcing and are able to use it at a disturbing level of competency is the only reason you are alive right now. Beasts have significantly higher base attributes than humans. With each tier, our attributes double, but so do theirs.

“Learn prudence now, while you can afford to do so.” Samris blew air out of his nose in the least dignified expression Jiran had ever seen from him.

“I had hoped your lesson with the crab was enough to instill you with some sense of your current capabilities.

“I was clearly mistaken.”

His expression and tone softened as he continued.

“There is no benefit to be gained from throwing your life away. Choose your battles with the utmost care and always retreat at the first sign that the tides are turning against you,” He stopped speaking and gave Jiran time to consider his words.

Wow, that’s a lot to take in.

So he made me fight a tier two, then a pack of beasts my own tier, all in an effort to teach me how to choose my battles wisely. Painful lesson!

Gratitude for everything Samris was doing for him suddenly welled up and refused to be ignored. Jiran stood from his seat and bowed deeply before his benefactor.

“Thank you for teaching me, Lord Feylon!” Jiran stood up when he felt snot begin to pool dangerously close to the tip of his nose.

While he sniffled, Samris responded.

“You’re welcome, Jiran. Do keep in mind I am not supporting you out of any sense of altruism. It is an incredibly rare opportunity to study one with a Unique status.

“Have you noticed anything strange happening lately? When my voice began to manifest, the first things I remember observing were people acting oddly vacant-minded in my presence, staring off wistfully and such.

“Your Uniqueness may not be centered inside your body, it could manifest in numerous ways. Do not ignore the clues as your curse quickens, or it may cause untold harm to those around you. I implore you to be mindful and report anything unusual to me.”

When Jiran thought about his recent experiences that failed to present anything new, Samris motioned dismissively toward the door. Jiran bowed again before leaving and making his way to his delivery box.   He found several letters and instructions to bring some boxes to the tanner.

He found the boxes just outside the manor before retreating back inside. He grabbed a plate of food from the kitchen that had been set aside for him and ate as slowly as possible. As usual, it was delicious, and restraining himself from gobbling it down in seconds was a challenge.

The higher tier density from the food pooled in his stomach like liquid metal, heavy and warm. Jiran sighed in contentment.

Time to get some work done!

Jiran busied himself loading up the manor’s cart with the bulky boxes. They smelled musty and rancid, like a rotting corpse.

Makes sense considering they are going to the tanners. Probably loaded with skins and furs from Samris clearing out the local beast populations. That explains all the fancy food too. I bet Elder Mireg is pleased as a fisher with a hook at the influx of higher tier goods.

The honest work was a pleasant reminder of his time with Micah. When Jiran left the manor gate pulling the cart behind him, a wide smile was spread across his face.

His smile quickly faded as he passed two women who loudly whispered and laughed.

“Look at those hideous scars.”

“The denless freak must be soft in the head. Did you see him smiling like a fool?”

“I heard his parents sold him to Lord Feylon. It’s fitting he’s so happy, being allowed to keep breathing is a blessing for him.”

Their cruel tittering laughter followed him as he urged the cart forward.

People always fear what they don’t understand.

"Jiran, my dear boy! Welcome back, welcome back," The grandmotherly seamstress shouted as he approached her shop.

"Have you changed Lord Samris's mind about that dreadful uniform yet? Mother knows that design is completely outdated. Why, not three moons past I made a uniform for Mr. Fancell's staff that puts yours to shame. Surely Lord Feylon won’t abide by his constituents outstripping his own staff in fashion?"

https://imgur.com/tetqsQU 

You’re the only seamstress in town! Did you forget you’re the one who made all our uniforms?

"I can't say what Lord Feylon’s plans are for our uniforms, Ms. Thedweil. Perhaps today's letter will reveal his intent." Jiran handed one of the letters to the meddling woman.

With a tsk, she snatched the letter and quickly read through it. A smile bloomed on her lips as she looked back at Jiran.

"It seems our esteemed lord has indeed decided to update your uniform. Now come along while I measure you, Jiran."

She gave him no chance to escape, grabbing his wrist and dragging him into the back of the store where she shoved him onto a wooden block.

His height now matched the woman as she made circles around him measuring every centimeter of his body. Jiran did his best to block out her humming as she worked.

"Look at how much you've grown, Jiran. It's been not a single moon and these old rags of yours barely fit. Just what are they feeding you, hmm?"

Jiran barely managed to school his expression before he rolled his eyes. As if you're not the very woman who designed and made these 'rags' I'm wearing! Is she even capable of opening her mouth without trying to sell something with a backhanded compliment?

Clamping down on his annoyance at the shameless saleswoman, Jiran stoically stood through the gentle abuse until she was satisfied. As aggravating as he found the woman, at least she made quality clothes.

Luckily, another potential customer entered the shop and Ms. Sharel pounced on him, leaving Jiran an avenue of escape.

Jiran rushed through town, finishing his deliveries as quickly as possible while ignoring the pointed glares and hurtful comments of the people he used to consider as extended family.

Back at the manor, he passed the library on the way to his room. He gazed longingly at the double doors before changing into something more suitable for exercise.

I don’t have time to sit around and read. If Samris is going to keep throwing beasts at me, I need to improve my mana control as quickly as possible.

There has to be a way for me to control my emotions during combat. I just need enough practice to figure it out.

With an intense desire to overcome his weaknesses, Jiran picked up his trusty shovel.