Gareth’s eyes shot open in a panic. The mental image of falling down a cliff and getting caught in a storm flashed through his mind, shocking him with adrenaline. Heart pounding, sweat beading, ass puckering, the whole shebang. Hsi arms flailed as he frantically sat up. He looked around critically to assess his situation.

  He felt himself lying on an all too familiar bedroll, a small fire sputtering and crackling against the wind two feet away. Then there, sitting beyond the fire, the man, the myth, the legend, Ivor Hansen.

  Gareth heaved a massive breath of fresh air, and flopped back down onto his bedroll, his arms and legs all akimbo. As he did, the restrictive sensation of bandages wrapped around his legs and arms told him Ivor Hansen had nursed him back to health...Again. He was seriously starting to owe Ivor Hansen and when he inevitably called in his debts Gareth would be fucked because he had nothing to give but service...Again.

  Forcing a grateful smile to his face, and embracing the relief at being safe, he looked at Ivor, "I’m so godsdamn happy to see you Ivor, I thought you got eaten."

  "Hmph, they certainly tried their utmost. Luckily for you, Ivor Hansen is the greatest ranger that Volun has to offer." Shadows danced across their little cave's wall as Ivor nodded humbly.

  Though honestly, dude deserved respect if he could survive those raptors -- so Gareth certainly wasn't going to say his arrogance was unearned. He sat on a large stone, his muscular legs crossed and his back perfectly straight. His boots were airing off a few feet away, so Gareth saw that Ivor had one more toe than the standard five. He didn't want to be staring at someone's feet, though, so he moved on swiftly.

  "How long I been out?" Gareth asked and stoically stared at the stone roof of the cavern. He was scared that he'd cost them a lot of time and they would be caught out at Night.

  "This one is unsure, I found your unconscious body on a ledge near here. It has been only five cycles since we first lost contact. This one decided I would wait for you to wake up before journeying on." Ivor shrugged simply, as if being so generous with his time didn't bother him. Gareth didn't trust it. No one was this nice without expecting anything in return.

  "I can’t thank you enough, choom. You bailed my ass out...again. Where we at now?" Gareth asked and looked into Ivor's eyes. His guarded, yet honest eyes.

  Man I love this guy. He's saved my ass so many times -- Gareth realised. He was waiting for the shoe to drop, for Ivor to bring up his debt, but Gareth couldn't ignore the fact that this kind guy had been nothing but nice to him, nevermind saved his life on multiple occasions. His experience told him to mistrust, but his natural inclination was to like, to forgive, to hope that there existed a spark of goodness in others.

  "We are approximately twenty miles from the bottom. So perhaps... two more cycles of careful travel before we reach Volun. Junior brother made my job much easier, as you fell most of the way down the cliffs. When this one found your body…it had been ravaged by storm mana. You should expect to have some resistance to it, as you have been partially forged... by the Everstorm."

  Congratulations!

  Due to the nature of the Rune of Devouring -- which is to consume mana at a rapid rate -- and the Rune of Berserker -- which is to heal the body based on the consumption of mana present in the body -- you have consumed enough Storm Elemental mana to permanently infuse your cells with the aspect of the Storm.

  Stormic Infusion: Your Skin, Muscles, and Tendons have been tempered by Stormic mana. Your eyes have received a partial forging. You have gained resistance to stormic mana. Your body will passively absorb atmospheric storm mana. Directed attacks you make, will now be infused with 5% Stormic mana.(3/?)

  Gareth broke off examining his notifications to ask Ivor a question. The floating screens resumed their blue-dot blinking in the corner of his vision.

  “What's forging?”

  “Hmm. Interesting that you bring up such a topic, junior brother. Body forging is the practice of acclimating your organic cells to specific mana types: Nature, Water, Fire, Darkness, etc..." Ivor steepled his fingers and leaned forward to think. The fire turned his green eyes slightly amber, and Gareth could see some wicked nose hairs peeking out from his somewhat flat nose.

  "By acclimating your cells, they will naturally start producing organelles meant to process and produce that form of mana," when Ivor saw he had lost Gareth, he simplified further, "meaning you get mana producing cells in your body." When he saw that had the spark of understanding, he elaborated further, "This also means that element will not kill cells who have been acclimated, meaning you will become immune to that mana damage to some extent."

  Ivor unlaced his fingers, sat back and shrugged, "The poison in the pudding is that elemental concentrations powerful enough to forge the body are also likely to kill it. So it is dangerous, expensive, and often lethal to its practitioners. It is a lesser path of progression, though one most people pick up eventually for one reason or other."

  Gareth, not one to really share crucial info like this, due to his background in information smuggling, chose not to reveal that he could now punch with lightning. He only nodded to show he understood and chose to change the topic.

  "Will you tell me about Volun?"

  Civilisation sounds so nice right-about-now -- Gareth thought as he snuggled under the warm blankets. His body was still emaciated, and thus the cold still struck him hard, but his body was mostly fine. The sores of captivity had healed, his back didn't ache, and his joints moved smoothly. The scars from the runes were still faintly visible though.

  Gareth wanted to know what to expect before he got there. Terra had long since formed megacities across all the continents, with many other planets being similarly colonised, but those were reserved for the middle class. His family hadn't been well off, and struggled to make ends meet, meaning they lived on the lower floors of skyscrapers that were packed together like sardines.

  The people had been hard, skeptical of strangers, and utterly loyal to those they trusted. They looked after them and theirs. They hadn't been unkind, just extremely protective of their means of survival: credits.

  Ivor looked outside the small cave, where Gareth could see light still shining and lightning flashing.

  "Volun is a border city on the frontier of civilization. It is extremely distant from the head of the empire: Avrrest, capital of the Yun Cheng Empire. The only reason Volun even became the Marquis that it is, was because of the Volun city tree. You see, the city tree emanates an aura that deters beasts from coming near it - meaning all within its aura are safe. Not only does it provide protection, but it naturally gathers mana and stores it within its crystalline leaves, like those leaves in the pouch you lost.” Gareth winced slightly but luckily Ivor didn't make a big deal of it.

  “Cultivators find these extremely valuable as the mana within the leaves can be absorbed to cultivate elemental cores. So valuable, in fact, that it forms the very currency of the empire."

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  He paused for emphasis, and Gareth felt like the old guy was waiting for him to ask something, but considering this was all new to him, Gareth was in 'absorb information' mode and would take anything Ivor said as gospel. If people used leaves as currency, then who was he to say shit was impossible. Hell, dinosaurs were extinct, yet raptors nearly killed them.

  Whatever rules this world functioned on were clearly different from his own.

  "What are the people like?" He asked after his pause.

  "To understand the people one must first understand one of the primary functions of Volun. It is a place where scions of the wealthy and powerful come to train in relative safety.”

  Ivor steepled his fingers and smirked slightly, “Volun is where ancient families send their children to be trained, to be forged in fire and combat. It is high in ambient mana, which means there are many beasts, monsters, and opportunities for progression. Those who come here are hungry for power. They quickly find their limits, or die in the process. Those who choose to leave are scarred veterans. Those who stay will inevitably become masters of combat, or die.”

  “Sounds intense, choom. Why would people want to live like that?” Gareth asked with no small amount of trepidation.

  Gareth picked at his overgrown nails that had a metric fuckton of dirt stuck under them, but the pressure washer that was the storm outside had cleaned that up nicely.

  “Because to live in Volun is to become a professional in your chosen craft. To live in Volun is to fight in the arena for prestige and acclaim, as certain jobs are only for those with a high arena ranking. The strong are respected and the weak are forgotten. Fighting in the arena is a cultivator’s way of showing how strong they have become. Delving rifts and dungeons are ways to gather materials and magical items. Culling beast hordes, learning spellcraft; Volun is a place of challenging your weaker self to become stronger. It is not all about fighting and such, there is a residential area where people can start families. There are farms, inns, merchants, and other businesses, but the true craft and purpose of Volun is to fight, expand the reach of the empire, and become stronger." As Ivor spoke his eyes filled with a spark, his lips started turning into a bloodthirsty smile, and his head bowed forward as if to pounce.

  An unknown pressure pressed down on Gareth, like gravity had suddenly doubled, his ears popped like he'd rapidly changed altitude. His heart started beating faster, sweat broke out across his body, and Gareth knew that Ivor Hansen could kill him with less effort than swatting a fly.

  Ivor made eye contact with Gareth and quickly did a double take. The pressure abruptly vanished, leaving Gareth to gasp for breath. Ivor sat back up and rubbed his head in embarrassment. A weak chuckle escaped his lips, "This one apologises, my blood runs hot and I forgot to control my aura."

  Gareth shook his head and took a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart. "No problem, what was that pressure?"

  "It is rather complex to explain, but think of it as an expression of my current mental state through my spiritual aura. As a cultivator ages, their aura grows stronger, and they must learn to suppress it, lest it influence those around us. I apologise, it will not happen again." Ivor said with true contrition, rose from his seated position, and bowed deeply.

  Gareth waved away his worries, "Nah man, it's fine. Ian did similar things, I just never had a name for it."

  He had experienced a similar feeling but had assumed it was just his body feeling 'fear at the prospect of being tortured' again, in a calm environment like this the feeling had been startling enough to notice.

  Ivor resumed his cross-legged position on the rock he used as a seat. Then continued with his lecture.

  "Those who live in Volun are warriors first, and whatever role they have to play in the city second. The soldiers are legends, the guards are veterans, and the people are biding their time as they grow stronger. Even the street sweepers are proficient with multiple weapons. If a large enough threat approaches the walls of Volun, all except children are expected to contribute to its defence. Strength, wisdom, and discipline are valued by most, though of course... there are exceptions."

  Ivor once again looked outside the entrance of their cave, as if he could see the city in the distance, lost in thought.

  "People tend to help each other in emergencies, but with power comes pride, and with pride comes rivalries. Especially among the nobility who come to train here. They have their own ways of interacting with one another, and there are often duels and challenges for no other reason than saving face. If you want this one's advice...stay out of their way. When...if" he said with significance, "we get to Volun, you will likely be asked to join the Volun military."

  It was a rapid change of topic so Gareth reeled for a second, but quickly shook his head. Gareth had already agreed to this but the prospect still set him on edge.

  Ivor noticed because he sighed heavily. "This one will not force you to join the military, Gareth Elson. But it is your best chance at success. The military looks after its soldiers by providing them with resources to advance, certain rights that non-military members do not have, and training to survive in a world rife with danger. It is also a legitimate honour to be accepted into the Volun Military, especially in such a combat focused society."

  "I understand." Gareth sighed, “It’s not that I don't want to join the military, I had just hoped to get some rest after all the years of torture...on second thought it might be best to just stay busy, to keep my thoughts away from all that stuff.”

  “This one understands. Luckily the military is not your only option. The Adventurers Guild, the Merchants Guild, the Alchemists Guild, there is a lot of money to be made by fighting in the arena…” he was quiet for a second and looked to the natural cave ceiling to find some inspiration, “There are a million and one ways of making a living, the Volun Military is just the most stable.”

  They locked eyes and Ivor smiled kindly.

  Of all the people Gareth had met in this world, and likely even before he’d gotten here, Ivor had been the kindest.

  Gareth did have chooms on Terra, they had just had some serious boundaries that made true friendship difficult. Ivor Hansen was a sick guy.

  "Rest now. Tomorrow this one will carry you down the cliff, in five cycles...we will reach Volun.”

  “Ivor, there is one last thing…”

  “Yes?” He tilted his head to the side and Gareth was reminded of Ivor’s monkey-like features.

  “Before you found me… I was captured by something called an Oni Broodmother. She…she did something to me.” He pointed to the very faint scars on his exposed arms.

  Ivor had been nice enough to give him pants and a shirt, though they were clearly pajamas.

  Ivor scooted closer, his bare feet with opposable thumb seeming strange in the cold cave, and examined the runic scars. “This one is unfamiliar with these markings, but I do not sense a malevolent mana within. Has the System told you of its effects?”

  His brow furrowed with concern.

  “I’ll check.” He said and re-focussed on the blinking blue dot in the corner of his vision.

  Congratulations!

  The Demon mana in your body has been purged by rampant and uncontrolled Storm mana.

  Failed Runes of Devouring and Berserker have become dormant due to intentional abortion of the ritual.

  “Well, it…it cursed me and carved these runes into my skin. But I got the option to refuse the curse, so I did. The System said it was just tempering my body against Demonic mana. But it looks like the storm washed all that Demonic mana out, and partially tempered me with Storm mana, whatever that means. It also said the runes of Devouring and Berserker are dormant?” Gareth trailed off.

  He knew he'd said he'll keep this info close to his chest, but he was hella concerned that the scars on his body weren't fading away.

  Ivor looked deeply into his stark blue eyes, as if he could see the fear and uncertainty hiding behind Gareth’s calm facade.

  “Do not fear Gareth. The healers of Volun are great in power and will be able to help you. But we must make haste towards Volun, this one does not know what those runes might do. It would be better for all, if they were removed.”

  “So, I’m not climbing the cliff myself?” Gareth smirked, so happy at the prospect that his messed up body wouldn't have to climb down himself.

  Ivor laughed and rolled his eyes, exasperated, “You will not have to climb down yourself. Time is short, and I must report my lord. We must make haste."