Teaching A Savage (Last)

Alban took deep breaths, gulping the air. He held the canals of his throat shut, letting the ingested mana mana permeate hi blood before pushing out whatever he couldn't process. The energy was tinged with the feeling of liberation, feeling completely different from the confines of Nimrod. It was here where he felt most fulfilled, it was here where he was at his most powerful. The mana of the wilderness was very comppatible, akin to more of a kindred spirit than an existing inanimate object. It was the first time he felt as if mana was alive, no it was life itself. His realization bore fruit.

"Through repeated actions of the user, a skill has now been created. Learned {Mana Digest}."

{Mana Digest (Passive)}

A skill that allows the user to draw in mana. All mana can be processed through this skill, but energy compatible to the user it is, the higher the likelihood of the user absorbing it.

Alban glanced at the panel before willing it away. He suddenly felt a lot more at home in the expansive forest, a lot less like a fearsome intruder and more like a resident. Like a force of nature that was necessary, an integral part of the cycle of creation and destruction. Basking in the feeling, he enjoyed a velvety sensation that seemed to wrap itself around his soul. A pleasant stirring started up before going, letting Alban know that it was still there.

A fire kindled deep in the recesses of his soul at that moment, alight and shining brightly in Alban's mind. The flames flickered against a chunk of earth, while a small droplet of liquid could be seen floating around. The fire gently warmed the earth and the water, the biggest and most overpowering element in Alban, but the most caring and heartwarming of them all. Literally and figuratively. It licked against a black void, being the most familiar to the abyssal space that surrounded it.

Alban intently focused on that feeling, mentally calling out to the fire. It stretched out and lay on Alban's palm, entwining itself onto his fingers before spiraling on the tip of each and every one of his digits. A small flame separated itself from the pack, before delicately caressing its owner's face. The flames sunk right back into the abyss that seemed to lie in the very center of Alban's soul, a seemingly material and yet immaterial weight making itself known to Alban. Surveying the soul that belonged to him but shied away from his perception all this time, he saw a red mark floating around the black space, the area directly around it a small radius of a much deeper red. HE inspected it, immersing in the situation he was in without questioning it.

It's hungry, it wants to be fed. It patiently awaits your attention, being at your beck and call. Your constant usage of it's traits has expanded the area around it, albeit slightly.

(23/100)

Unknowingly, Alban had just experienced an enlightenment that was unusual for the size of his soul. The silently watching system allowed it's tinny voice to resound once again, recording the unusual feat.

"User has experienced a spiritual awakening that rarely occurs during the user's current threshold. The feat has been recorded and thusly generated into a title."

The eternality of the present.

It was a brief description, if one could even construe it as such. It was vague, confusing...a whole litany of adjectives could be used to chronicle it. Yet it sat there, undisturbed by whoever would come across it. It was isolated and okay with it, a little like Alban himself...

He slowly raised to his feet, a final long drag of air guided by his lungs to the crystallized heart that did not move at all. At least, not in a typical way for anything biological. A light shine and dimmed, a pattern not unlike the rhythm a beating heart would normally perform. Drawing his perspective from the introspective mood he had established to the eyes that were no longer gazing at his soul, he muttered a silent goodbye to the nature around him and made his way back to Nimrod. Nothing good ever lasts forever, and he didn't want to ruin the moment he had just experienced by refusing to leave it. A happy memory was only a memory when it could be lovingly brought up by the present, after all.

The monsters, predator and prey alike avoided the young man trudging through the forest. The expanse was normally littered with scenes of predation and confrontation, the eerie roars bouncing from the trees to the skies above. And yet, such a racket was nowhere to be found today. The wilderness was still, silent, the monsters holding bated breaths as the boy passed. Some of the monsters that were smart enough to have even a minute amount of thought learned the meaning of the word king as they waited. It wasn't the strongest, nor the craftiest or even the most resourceful. It was a person that could make the ground under him respect their presence. It was an existence that wielded a comportment that was larger than even the person itself could bear. They witnessed the king leaving the home that was once their stomping ground, the primal fear that gnawed on all their instincts slowly fading. It did not, however, disappear. It would always be there, silently watching.

---

Alban arrived back at the wooden gate barring the insides of the village of the nimms. Nimrod felt like an alien world, a foreign experience he couldn't get used to no matter how well he adapted. But adapted he did, pushing the door open and walking within the confines of the well populated, lively place.

As he walked along, his eyes were met by dozens of sincere faces. They may not have all been smiling, but they were honest to a fault. Some of the nimms recognized him, cheerfully greeting him and asking how his day had been. Alban would wave in response before kindly letting them know that his dat was a treasure that no one would ever experience. The solemn words did not match his beauty at all, his age seeming to be much beyond what his body and face portrayed, There was an odd allure in the juxtaposition, the air around him captivating for any who paid him attention.

Alban proceeded along, his feet guiding his bloody body to the lake. He wasn't alone, the idle stirrings of a harp occasionally sounding out in the area. He had noted before that he hadn't seen Lark in town, but he figured the poetic prophet was up to his own cryptic hijinks. He did not expect a forlorn, weathered expression lying on the face that was so amiable and approachable before.

"Bloody again, friend? You have a real talent for being caked in gore, you know." The sorrowful voice danced upon the air, akin to windchimes slowly clanking against each other. The contents of the sentence were as mischievous as before, but the young man in question did not get up to present it. His eyes guided to the harp that was occasionally plucked, Alban's gaze settled on a mottled right hand. Noticing the wandering gaze finally settle on his hand, he held it up for Alban to see.

"The stunt I pulled takes a lot out of me. Time magic is serious business, it's why you'll only meet young or old practitioners. Don't worry, friend, I'll be perfectly fine like always. Just leaves me tired for a bit." Alban nodded, not asking any questions nor expecting any answers. Seeing this, Lark smiled. The melancholy of the area slowly faded away, the random strings transforming into a soft and gentle melody.