Six minutes.

That's how long it took to swing my axe twenty-five times with Mana-Channeling active.

Peanuts, compared to how long it had taken before.

But, I brushed away the System Prompts for now. There was much I had to think about right now. And while I could just use my second awareness to do both at once...I knew there were layers that needed my full attention.

I had 735 Mana in total now.

A hundred of that was tied to the Gates, plus another hundred for each of the threads connecting them, and ten more for the central Tap.

Two hundred and ten units locked away.

That left me with 525 units of Mana that I could freely use.

About the same as before my level-up, then...

It was a worthy trade, for such precise control over my channeling.

Using just ten mana per channeled swing, I was stronger than almost any Silver, yet still below the threshold of Gold. At that level of consumption, each swing completely outperformed my output back in Eidolon's Matrix. The Mana Burn was quite bearable at this intensity---only "slight" increases in my Mana Strain Resistance----and with this control I now had, I could kill most any Tremor-Class beast outright, assuming a clean strike.

But Crisis-Class was a different reality.

I replayed the fight against the Crimson Plague Serpent in my head. Five full-powered swings, each costing a hundred Mana, and the thing had still nearly lived through it. Had it been just a level higher, it might have endured all five. I'd have been left empty. A breathing corpse with no more mana to burn.

And the gap between successive tiers would only continue to widen.

The ceiling of my strength---when I used those 100 Mana full-power channels---wasn't any different.

But my baseline...most definitely was. For the first time since I learned to channel mana through my blood vessels, I felt like I was no longer improvising. Like I was no longer a child holding a loaded gun. I could hold the trigger now. I could take aim, and make sure my bullets were never wasted.

I exhaled slowly, lowering the axe. Its head settled into the rune-etched floor of the courtyard, the faint gold inscriptions pulsing faintly on contact.

For a long moment, I didn't move. Just...taking a moment to breathe a little.

The air here was clean, cool, and layered with that constant undercurrent of moving wind the Dhrokari had built into their city. It carried no scent of blood or ash. Just life.

It hit me that this was the first time in weeks I'd been surrounded by calm instead of survival.

I'd been wandering the wilds, with only the cub to keep me company. I was wholly dependent on my own strength, that could've faltered at any point---just five strikes. If another pack of Crisis-Class beasts had just so happened to come upon me, I would've met my end.

I realized I'd been suppressing that dread all this while, and trudging on regardless, because that was the only way I'd actually get anywhere.

Now, that I was finally in the lands of humans, within the walls of a city that was peaceful, with a quiet that made me calm rather than tense...I felt like I was finally able to let go of that breath. I'd been rushing through this journey. Desperately searching, despite not quite understanding that it was desperation. Perhaps that was why I hadn't pushed back at all when the Chieftain suggested I take the trial. Perhaps that was why I joined the Shavrak despite knowing nothing about them, despite knowing the Chief likely had ulterior motives.

The feeling from when I'd first woken up came back to me now. When I'd first seen the lights from the other side of the ravine, something in me had wanted to reach them. To be amongst them. I'd ignored that feeling after I parted ways with Freya and the party, burying it beneath the next fight, the next test, the next injury or boost in strength.

But now that there was nothing to occupy my minds, it was back. Loud.

Why did being among others satisfy me? Why did the idea of presence itself bring such satisfaction and comfort?

I didn't know.

It was probably just another residual echo of human psychology---a mechanism I'd inherited with the flesh.

Still, I let my gaze drift across the view below.

From the edge of the raised courtyard, the Shavrak's grand underground city sprawled outward in those soft golden spirals, encircling everything within like they were being sucked into a wormhole at the bottom.

It really was beautiful.

I hitched the axe back onto my shoulder. Whether I was amongst humans or not, it didn't change my goals in the slightest.

I had come to the Wildlands for one thing only.

Strength enough to kill a Disaster-Class beast.

Arthur had mentioned a Peak Disaster Class was able to wipe out two Mithril Ranked Guilds.

Two entire guilds, led by beings whose strength eclipsed everything I'd seen so far---and it still hadn't been enough.

Disaster-Class was only the fourth tier in the Beast hierarchy, but Mithril...was fifth in the human one. And yet, the scales didn't balance.

That difference would only grow sharper the higher I climbed.

It made me wonder...what kind of monstrosity, then, was a Cataclysm-Class beast?

"Powerful enough to fracture mountains…"

I said the words aloud, as if voicing them would make them any easier to accept.

My thoughts then leapt to Intisak's words, from our conversation back in his Study.

Bonds...

He'd said they equalized strength. That if one side was stronger, the other would rise to meet it. That two beings linked by a Bond shared in each other's growth.

I needed to verify that.

No matter how sincere the Chieftain had been, I still had to do my own research. And if there was a place I would find that information, it would have here, in the Wildlands.

Having cleared my thoughts, I finally opened my System interface.

[Daily Quest #2 has been successfully completed.]

[You have acquired +100 Mastery Points.]

A small, involuntary smile formed. Satisfaction, clean and simple.

I flicked over to the Mastery Panel.

Finally, I could break past the halfway mark of Sub-Par mastery.

If a thousand points defined the boundary where one could begin learning Gold-Rank Weapon Techniques, then five hundred should approximate Silver-Rank Weapon Techniques---or at least, their structural equivalents, the Silver-Rank Axe forms in Gerard's Manual.

But I would not skip steps. The Basics had to be perfected first.

Then, and only then, would I move on to the more advanced forms.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

[Mastery | MSTP: 0]

1.Greataxe Mastery (Sub-Par): 480 ---> 580 / 1000 (+)

[Confirm? (Yes/No)]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

My grip around the axe tightened a little as I braced myself.

Yes.

My eyes pressed close once more, breath steadying as the System's feedback surged through me.

The sensation was no longer unfamiliar. The flood of knowledge came the same way it had before---compressed, clinical, and absolute. Movements, stances, timing. The ghost of muscle memory that had never been mine.

Tens upon tens of hours of training those same five basic forms folded into that single heartbeat. Each form refined, corrected, overwritten into my nerves, pushing me ever closer to my goal of perfection.

My hands tightened around the axe, memories continuing to flow. The polished metal felt more and more familiar by the second. It felt like I was only now fully adjusting to the ultra-light weight of the Greataxe.

Phantom scenes flickered behind my eyelids---countless strikes I'd never swung. All perfect. All efficient.

Each one corrected, refined, optimized.

When I opened my eyes again, I knew.

My body had reached a new equilibrium.

The interface pulsed once and faded away as I stood there, still processing everything I'd just gained.

The wind moved softly through the courtyard, carrying faint grains of sand that brushed against my exposed skin, then vanishing amongst the dull glow of the runes all over the ground.

Have I..? Have I really..?

I shifted my stance, axe coming back up into both hands in motion smoother than anything I'd performed before.

I began to move.

A downward chop. A horizontal slash. A Downward Diagonal. An Upward Diagonal. And a Tail-End stab.

No trembling. No drift. Each of them perfect.

I didn't need a second swing with any of them to know:

I had acquired perfection.

And I realized now...perfection didn't give me what I thought it would.

I knew it wasn't strength or speed, and I'd believed it was giving me control...

But what perfection had given me, really...was certainty.

Certainty that every motion was precisely as intended.

I let my arms drop to my sides, axe settling on the ground once more.

It was a goal I hadn't expected to reach today. My success rate had been once every other swing before. I'd expected a more gradual increase, something like reaching twice every three swings. Then four every five, slowly making my way up.

But the System wasn't playing around. It was a satisfying accomplishment, sure, but my abilities were still very much in the bracket of "Sub-Par" mastery, and only a little more than half-way at that.

I shouldn't have been as proud of it as I was, yet it was undeniable.

The Silver-Rank forms were finally within my grasp.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.