The Mana within him surged briefly, responding to the spike of grief and fury that lanced through his heart. The trees around them rustled as if a wind had passed, though the air remained still.
He looked back down.
Not a single drop fell.
He and Uncle Adam looked at each other across the small clearing, surrounded by glowing moss and Mana-rich vegetation. The old warrior’s expression had shifted from savage hope to something softer, something that recognized the pain his Young Lugal carried.
"I want vengeance more than anything else."
Damian’s voice was steady despite the storm inside him.
"But there is much to be done before that. First of all, we are far too weak. I have to understand this power more, and take Mana into my body properly..."
The eyes of the old soldier shone as he nodded.
Power.
When it came to power, there were the Nine Circles of Cultivation.
Damian thought about them as he looked around at the verdant slopes of the Roaring Stone Mountain. The Mana here was thick, rich, perfect for what he needed to do. He sat down on a flat stone covered with soft moss, crossing his legs in the position his mother had taught him years ago.
He motioned for Uncle Adam to do the same as be began to drink the Auroch’s Grace he was given as an offering.
’Woah.’
His eyes lit up up soon after as he chugged some more before sighing. For some reason, this Grace tasted just as grand, if not grander than what he used to have as a child.
Whether this was genuine or just because of his memories was not entirely clear.
He refocused and looked at Uncle Adam.
"Uncle Adam, tell me about the Circles of Cultivation."
It was information he already knew, learned from his mother before everything fell apart. But hearing it again, from a different perspective, might reveal something he had missed. And besides, speaking of practical matters would help pull both of them back.
The old warrior settled onto the ground with a grunt, his injuries reminding him of their presence as he moved. But once seated, his expression shifted to that of a teacher, a role he had played many times during their years of exile.
"The Circles of Cultivation."
Uncle Adam did not waste a moment before he began explaining.
"The First Circle is Flesh Awakening. This is where most Warriors begin and where many remain their entire lives. The body learns to drink Mana from the surroundings, absorbing it through breath and skin. Muscles become denser. Skin toughens. Senses sharpen. A peak First Circle Warrior can throw a punch that shatters common stone. The Butcher was at this level."
Damian nodded. He had felt the Butcher’s power firsthand.
"The Second Circle is Bone Tempering. Mana that once merely soaked the flesh now penetrates deeper, sinking into the bones themselves. The skeleton becomes a reservoir of power. A Warrior at this level can consciously reinforce specific body parts, hardening a fist before impact or strengthening legs for a mighty leap. Their bones can withstand impacts that would pulverize ordinary skeletons."
Uncle Adam flexed his own hand, and Damian saw the faint glow of Mana beneath the skin.
"The Third Circle is Blood Ignition. The blood itself becomes a carrier of power throughout the body. Wounds heal faster. The heart beats with audible force. A Third Circle Warrior’s presence can be felt by common folk, a weight in the air that makes them instinctively step aside. At this level, one can face multiple First and Second Circle opponents and expect to triumph."
He paused, his expression growing more serious.
"The Fourth Circle is Marrow Crystallization. This is where true power begins. The bone marrow transforms into something that generates Mana internally. The Warrior is no longer dependent on absorbing power from the environment. They become self-sustaining. At this level, one can begin to project Mana externally in crude forms, shockwaves from strikes, brief barriers of force. A Fourth Circle Warrior can challenge tribes alone."
Uncle Adam’s voice dropped lower.
"The Fifth Circle is Organ Sanctification. Each major organ transforms into a vessel of specific Mana function. The heart pumps Mana as readily as blood. The lungs extract Mana from the air. The Warrior becomes an engine of cultivation, able to project Mana with true control, to heal others, to perform feats that lesser Warriors would call miracles."
He shook his head slowly.
"Beyond the Fifth Circle, I do not know much. The Sixth through Ninth Circles are the realm of legends, of emperors and empresses, of beings who shape the Lands of Stone according to their will. I have met perhaps three Warriors in my life who had reached the Sixth Circle, and I could barely stand in their presence."
Damian listened calmly throughout.
The information was pretty much the same as what he knew from his mother’s teachings. Flesh Awakening. Bone Tempering. Blood Ignition. Marrow Crystallization. Organ Sanctification. And beyond, the heights that few ever reached.
He placed his hands on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath flesh that had been torn apart and remade twice today.
This was the process of cultivation.
It was what everyone followed in the Lands of Stone.
Warriors across countless tribes and empires all walked the same path, advancing through the Nine Circles according to the same principles established by those who came before. Generation after generation, they followed the methodology laid down by ancient masters.
But recently, Damian had found himself questioning things more and more.
Well, today mainly.
Why did he have to die? The Butcher’s spear had torn through his chest, shredded his heart, ended his life. By all rights, he should be a corpse cooling on the blood-soaked earth of the Purple Stone Tribe.
Why did so many Tribesmen have to die? Good people. People who had welcomed him when he had nothing. People whose only crime was living near resources that others wanted.
Why did he never awaken a Physique, which gave others the opportunity to come for his head and the heads of his family? Twelve generations of dual Physique awakening, and then him. The flaw. The weakness that enemies used to justify their treachery.
Why were things the way they were?
When he thought of the possible futures, of what he and Uncle Adam would have to face to even stand a chance at vengeance, he knew something with cold certainty.
The Circles of Cultivation that everyone followed would not be enough.
His enemies were powerful. Established. Surrounded by Warriors who had spent decades advancing through the Circles. Even if Damian cultivated with perfect efficiency, even if he reached the Fifth Circle in record time, he would still be facing forces that had been building strength for generations as he would be nothing but a corpse in the endless stones.
He needed an edge...he needed something different.
So this time, he asked himself a question that felt almost heretical.
Did he really have to follow the Nine Circles of Cultivation?