The Unseen Flow

The jungle was alive with a quiet power. Darian stood still, his hand resting against the rough bark of a tree. Beads of sweat lined his brow, but he barely noticed them. His senses were sharper than ever, as if the jungle had opened itself to him in ways it hadn't before. The pulse he had noticed earlier—it was everywhere now. It was in the hum of insects, in the rustle of branches, even in the earth beneath his boots.

Darian's eyes narrowed. For the first time, he truly saw it—wisps of energy, faint but undeniable, coiling through the air and weaving around the trees. The vital force wasn't just inside him. It was in the world, threaded into the fabric of life itself.

He reached out instinctively, his hand cutting through one of the tendrils of light. It didn't resist him; instead, it seemed to flow around his fingers like water. The sensation was electrifying—not cold, not hot, but alive.

"Is this… what's been waiting for me all along?" he murmured, his voice barely audible.

This wasn't something he'd been taught. No one had spoken of this, no elder had guided him here. There were no stories, no legends. Whatever this was, it had been waiting for someone to notice it, and he was the first to see it for what it was.

As his hand lingered in the flow of vital force, his mind was drawn back to the battlefield. He remembered the raw chaos of it—the thunder of his heartbeat, the blur of motion as he fought to survive. He had relied on his strength and instincts, his movements fueled by desperation and adrenaline.

"I was reckless," he admitted to himself, his voice tinged with self-awareness. "I charged in blindly, using only my raw strength and instinct. I wasn't thinking. I wasn't using the energy properly, not with precision or calculation. I was burning through everything, fighting like a wild beast."

The memory brought a bitter taste to his mouth. He had survived, but it had been costly, draining him of every ounce of energy. Now, standing in the stillness of the jungle, he saw just how flawed his approach had been.

Then another memory surged forward—his first attempts at focusing the energy he absorbed from the monster essence. How he had poured that energy into his weapons, creating devastating strikes that shattered bone and tore through muscle. At the time, it had felt like a revelation, like a triumph.

But now… he couldn't help but scoff.

"That," he thought, his lips curling into a faint, self-deprecating smirk, "was just child's play. A fraction of what's possible. Back then, I thought I was doing something extraordinary, but it was merely a beginning—a crude, unpolished start. This… this is different."

His gaze returned to the glowing threads of vital force around him, their steady, rhythmic flow. He could feel the potential in them, far beyond the raw destruction he had achieved before. The strikes he had created by channeling energy into his weapons were only the first step, a mere glimpse of what true mastery could offer.

"This is control," he whispered, his tone tinged with awe. "This is refinement. What I did before… it was nothing compared to this. A fraction of the destruction, a fraction of the strength. If I can truly grasp this, truly shape it…" He trailed off, the enormity of the thought settling over him.

Then, he felt them again—seven blockages within his body, points where the vital force struggled to flow. They weren't just barriers; they were thresholds, locked doors to something greater.

I need to open them.

He sat down cross-legged, the earth cool beneath him. Closing his eyes, he drew a deep breath and let his mind sink into his body. The vital force around him responded, converging toward him like streams feeding into a river. He focused all of it toward the first point, the lowest and most resistant one.

It was like slamming a battering ram against a locked gate. The energy pushed and pulsed, but the gate held firm. Darian gritted his teeth and focused harder, guiding more and more energy to the blockage. The strain was immense; sweat dripped down his temples as his muscles tensed.

Then, with a soundless crack, the gate gave way.

A surge of energy erupted within him, rushing through his body like a flood. Darian gasped, his eyes flying open as his body trembled. He could feel the change instantly—the impurities being forced out of his body, black sweat oozing from his pores. His breathing grew heavier as his body adjusted, his muscles tightening and his mind sharpening.

When the rush subsided, he rose to his feet, wiping the sweat from his brow. His body felt… lighter. Stronger.

He lifted his hand, flexing his fingers as if testing them for the first time. Then, without moving his feet, he threw a punch.

The air around his fist compressed, a faint shockwave rippling outward with a low whump. It wasn't loud, but it was there—proof of the strength he had gained. He threw another punch, then another, his movements smooth and precise. Each one sent a ripple through the air, a subtle reminder of the raw power now coursing through him.

"This is just the first," he said, his voice tinged with excitement. "There are seven I sensed. If this is what happens after unlocking one… what will I become after unlocking all of them?"

The thought sent a thrill through him, but he didn't let it consume him. Glancing at the sky, he realized how much time had passed. The sun was lower now, casting long shadows through the trees.

"Four or five hours…" he muttered, shaking his head. "I should head back to camp before it gets too late."

As he began his trek back, his mind buzzed with possibilities. The path ahead was clearer now, and for the first time, he felt truly ready to walk it. The jungle seemed quieter, almost as if it recognized the change in him and was giving him space to think.

When he reached the edge of the camp, he paused, looking back at the jungle behind him. He could still feel the vital force in the air, still hear its pulse. It was waiting for him, challenging him to return.

But for now, he needed rest.

Tomorrow, he thought, stepping into the camp. Tomorrow, I will see how far I can go.

He slipped quietly into his resting quarters, careful not to draw any attention. The camp was quiet, save for the occasional shuffle of guards patrolling the perimeter. Sitting on the edge of his cot, Darian exhaled slowly, his mind still racing from the energy he had unlocked.

The faint sound of movement broke his thoughts. His senses, heightened and sharp, immediately caught the near-silent footsteps approaching his tent. Turning toward the entrance, he called out in a low but firm voice, "Who's there?"

The tent flap shifted slightly, and a familiar face appeared in the dim light.

"It's me," Jack said, stepping inside. His expression was a mix of concern and curiosity.

"Jack?" Darian straightened, his tone shifting to one of mild nervousness. "What are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you that," Jack replied, his voice low as he moved closer. "Where were you? I came by earlier, and you weren't here. I thought you might've gone to the bathroom or wandered off to eat, but when you didn't come back, I started looking for you."

Darian hesitated for a moment, keeping his tone casual. "I was just outside the camp, clearing my head. Nothing to worry about."

Jack frowned, crossing his arms. "Really? I didn't see you out there."

Darian shrugged, forcing a small laugh. "I must've been out of sight. No big deal."

Jack stepped closer, his expression softening. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. But…" He stopped abruptly, his nose wrinkling as he caught a strong, unpleasant smell. "What the hell is that?"

Darian blinked, momentarily confused, before realizing the stench was coming from him. The impurities expelled from his body had left a rank odor clinging to his skin and clothes. Embarrassed, he stood up quickly, trying to play it off.

"Uh, yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I think I need a bath."

"No kidding," Jack said, waving a hand in front of his nose dramatically. "You smell like a dead animal. What did you do, roll around in mud?"

Darian shot him a sharp look. "Very funny. Where's the river pipe?"

Jack smirked and gestured toward the camp's bathing area. "Come on, I'll show you. You need it more than anyone else right now."

The two made their way to the washing station, where the group had rigged a pipe system to draw water from the nearby river. The cool night air carried the faint sounds of the jungle, the chirping of insects blending with the rush of water through the pipes.

As Darian scrubbed himself clean, Jack leaned against a tree nearby, his arms crossed.

"You could've just told me you went off to roll in a swamp," Jack teased, his tone light.

Darian shot him a glare but said nothing, focusing on washing away the grime. The cold water felt refreshing against his skin, cleansing not just the impurities but also the tension lingering in his muscles.

Once he was done, he stepped away from the pipe, shaking the water from his hair. Jack handed him a clean towel, still smirking.

"You know," Jack said, his voice taking on a more serious tone, "you've been acting… different lately. More focused. It's good, I guess, but don't push yourself too hard. We've all been through a lot."

Darian glanced at him, briefly considering what to say. He knew Jack wouldn't understand the changes he was undergoing—not yet, anyway. Instead, he offered a faint smile and said, "I'm fine, Jack. Don't worry about me."

Jack nodded, though he didn't seem entirely convinced. The two walked back to the camp in silence, the quiet night wrapping around them like a blanket.

As Darian lay down on his cot later that night, his thoughts returned to the paths he had sensed within him. The strength he had gained from unlocking just one was already astounding. If this is what happens after opening the first path… what will I become when all seven are unlocked?

next time, he resolved, his gaze fixed on the ceiling of the tent. next time, I'll see just how far I can go.