Chapter 19: A Crude Beginning

"All this time, we've been purifying our bodies, and the more we fail at core formation, the more we cleanse ourselves."

"Who's out here?" A familiar gruff voice cut through the stillness behind me, pulling me from my thoughts.

My heart jumped. I suddenly remembered the commander's stern instruction not to wander after dark. So much had happened over the past few days that I'd let it slip my mind. Clearing my throat, I called out, "It's me, sir. Over here."

He stepped into the faint light, irritation etched across his face. "What are you doing out here, Peter?"

I scrambled to my feet, brushing dirt off my knees. "I was training, sir."

His gaze fell on the book in my hand, his brow furrowing. "You've got my book? You don't even have a class yet." His eyes flicked to the pile of books scattered at my feet. "What exactly are you training for? It's not bad to study, but stuffing your head with too much can do more harm than good."

"Your book?" I glanced at the cover and saw the author's name: Griffin Ironscribe.

"Should I call you Commander Ironscribe?" I asked, a grin tugging at my lips. It seemed fitting, given how his scholar's mind contrasted his rugged, commanding presence. He'd mentioned having a personal library—a rare luxury in a world like this I imagine—and now I knew he was an author, too. Did he pick the name himself?

"Answer my question, recruit," he barked, his tone sharp enough to straighten my posture.

"I—I'm experimenting," I admitted, words tumbling out faster than I could think. "I want to create skills without using the system. I mean—who knows how long it'll take me to get one?"

He frowned, the weight of his gaze making my pulse race. "What do you mean? At most, late bloomers only take a month to gain their systems."

My stomach dropped. Panic crept into my voice as I stammered, "Uh—yeah, of course! But still… I want to be prepared."

For a moment, he studied me like I'd grown a second head, and I thought for sure he'd press further. After all, my behavior practically screamed "out of place." But then he sighed. "Good timing anyway. I just finished the Spiritual Reservoir Formation stage. Now I've got this… large system running through me…by the way not pleasant," he added. "Anyway, as you said, I've changed."

I tilted my head, curiosity piqued. "How worthwhile is the change for someone like you? With such a high level—" I hesitated, guessing at his rank based on his commanding role.

"Had I been your age, it would've been massively useful," he admitted. "But now? The only real benefit is the improvement to my senses." He paused, his tone shifting. "Do you have another step in mind?"

I nodded slowly. "I do. I also came up with a theory from your book, but it's just a theory. You could wait until I've tested it."

He shook his head. "No. I know your ideas hold merit, I'll take it now."

I hesitated. Pricing was still a mystery to me, and I wasn't sure how to balance fairness with profitability. After all, Thea and I had charged him six hundred points for something we'd only asked three hundred for from others. "Can you tell me what would be a fair price?" I asked.

The commander sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You need to start learning the value of these things, Peter. But I won't trick you—I'll let you know what it's worth."

My tone softened as I tried to explain, hoping I didn't sound like a complete idiot. "Okay, so… first, the new structure holding your internal strength—it's something I'm calling a Grand Channel. It's kind of like a new reservoir, but also a path for cultivation. You can store world energy in it and use it way more efficiently. Plus, it holds a lot more energy than anything you've had before."

As I spoke, the commander was scribbling on a piece of paper with his inkless feather pen, his eye glowing faintly from the light of a strange instrument attached to it. The steady scratch of his pen filled the silence between my words.

"But Thea and I invented a technique," I continued, "something we call Grand Carving… Oh, and the stage you're at? We're calling it the Energy Gathering stage. Anyway, for the Grand Carving, Thea and I use about ten percent of our stored internal strength to… intentionally fail core formation."

He stopped writing and looked at me, startled. "You waste energy for nothing? Why would you do that?"

"No, not waste," I corrected quickly. "We form a needle-shaped core and, using inspiration from mage tools, carve patterns into our Grand Channel. At the points where the reservoirs used to be, we carve foci to create pseudo-reservoirs. Then, for now, our plan is to carve spiral patterns to increase flow speed and improve energy diffusion into our bodies."

"This is all non-theoretical?" he asked, his tone sharp.

"Yes." I hesitated, weighing the value of telling him the rest. There was danger in revealing too much. But this man had been a good teacher, guide, and… well, customer. He hadn't given me any reason to distrust him—yet. Taking a deep breath, I pressed on. "My goal has always been to strengthen the body permanently, not just by diffusing internal force into it only for that force to disappear later. I wanted something tangible."

I paused, watching for his reaction, but all I got was a simple, "Go on," as he grabbed another sheet of paper.

Clearing my throat, I continued, "Using your book, I came to a realization. One that people might have reached if they failed core formation enough times." I hesitated again, knowing how unlikely that was. "Though honestly, most people would abandon cultivation after wasting all their energy on failed attempts. They don't have a Grand Channel, so they'd have to start over. And, well, systems are easier."

He nodded slightly, still writing. "What realization?"

I shifted my weight, gathering my thoughts. "In your book, you mentioned how leveling up Bark Skin in the system causes the body to give off an odor. I think it's from removing some sort of impurity that prevents system energy from sticking to the skin."

"I thought the same thing," he agreed, his eyes narrowing in focus.

"Right," I said, feeling a little more confident. "And when I fail core formation by creating the needle, the same thing happens. But I think it's because the dissipated energy runs through my whole body, not just the surface. I don't know how yet, but I'm pretty sure the trick is learning how to send internal strength into my body itself. Maybe it'll happen naturally over time as the energy diffuses more deeply. Then, once it's purified enough… maybe it won't leave."

He didn't respond right away, and the silence made my heart pound. Finally, he spoke, his tone low and deliberate. "Peter."

"Yes, sir?"

"Who have you told about this?" His piercing gaze locked onto mine, serious enough to make my chest tighten.

"Ju—just you, sir," I stammered, caught off guard by the weight of his question.

He let out a long sigh, the sound almost one of relief. "I think your ideas hold up. You might actually achieve your goal. When you do, tell me. But until then…" He leaned forward slightly, his voice grave. "Be very careful who you tell. If this works, it will change the world. I'll keep this a secret—for now. It benefits me to do so. But until you're strong enough, I advise against giving away more information than you have today."

"Understood, sir," I said quickly, my voice steady despite the storm of thoughts racing in my mind.

"Good." He straightened, his tone shifting back to practical matters. "As for the value of the basic information about Energy Gathering, I probably could have reached the same conclusion myself—but Grand Carving—intentionally failing core formation to carve patterns into your Grand Channel, I don't know if I could have. I'd put this information at four hundred points."

He paused, and I could feel the weight of his next words. "As for the rest… even in theory, I would say it's worth five hundred. And if you discover the principle behind achieving it—if you can make it work… I'd easily pay one thousand points for what is essentially Bark Skin permanently activated across my entire body."

My jaw practically hit the floor at the idea of such a number.

Without hesitation, he pulled out his orb, carefully shielding his point total. I followed his example, mimicking the motion as best I could. Then, without batting an eye, he transferred nine hundred points to me. My orb now glowed with a bright green 950.

I blinked, trying to process the sheer magnitude of the exchange. Nine hundred points!

As my mind reeled, a new thought struck me—if Thea became a warrior, wouldn't it be amazing if she could use Fireball? And here I was, standing before someone who could probably explain a skill in such detail that even someone like me could understand it.

I hadn't even looked at the other books yet, but who knew how well they were written? Inspiration hit like a lightning bolt.

"Sir, can I pay you for information?" I blurted out.

He raised an eyebrow. "It depends. I am your tank instructor. If it's about skills or knowledge related to that, you don't have to pay."

He really is a pretty decent guy.

"No, it's not that," I said, trying to keep my excitement from spilling over. "I want to learn how to use Fireball. How does the energy behind it work? Do you have any idea?"

He scratched the back of his head, giving me a look that suggested I'd asked him to explain quantum mechanics. "That seems like a fool's errand."

But I just stood there, looking at him expectantly.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, he said, "Hand me the Fireball book. I'll see what it offers and explain it. If the book explains enough, I won't ask for any points."

Grinning, I handed him the book. He flipped through it at a speed that almost gave me whiplash, grumbling and muttering under his breath. I caught snippets of his commentary: "Amateur… doesn't even know his own system… idiot."

Finally, he sighed and snapped the book shut. "Most of what it says is useless. It's mostly bragging about how destructive the ability is, with only a sliver of theory on how it might actually work. But…" He paused, tapping the cover with a thoughtful expression. "I do have some ideas on it. Three hundred points, and I'll tell you what I know."

I nodded without hesitation, and we quickly completed the exchange. As the glow of the transaction faded from our orbs, he began to explain.

"Alright, Peter," he started, leaning back slightly as if settling into teaching mode. "Fireball is simple on the surface, but like most system-driven abilities, it's built on layers of automated processes that the system handles for you. Here's what's really going on."

I leaned forward, eager to absorb every word.

"The first step is energy generation and compression. Your system taps into your reservoir of mp and pulls raw energy. For Fireball, it compresses that energy into a small, unstable sphere. The compression is what gives the spell its destructive force. The more energy you compress, the more powerful the Fireball—but also the more dangerous it becomes to control."

"Compression…" I repeated, trying to picture it. "So it's like… packing a snowball?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Sure, if that snowball could explode in your face the moment you handled it wrong."

"Got it. No snowball fights with Fireball."

He sighed but continued. "Next comes elemental conversion. Your system converts the raw energy into fire-attribute energy, it tags it somehow. This process aligns the energy with the properties of fire—heat, combustion, and expansion."

I nodded along, trying to imagine the complexity of doing all of that manually.

"The system stabilizes the energy during this process," he said, tapping the Fireball book. "That's the tricky part. Compressed, fire-attributed energy is inherently volatile. It's like holding a lit torch over a barrel of oil—one wrong move, and boom. The system ensures the energy remains stable until you're ready to release it. That's why mages can cast Fireball without accidentally blowing themselves up."

"That… sounds terrifying," I admitted.

"It should. It's not a toy," he said firmly. "Once the Fireball is formed, the system gives you control over its trajectory. You can aim it in a straight line, launch it in an arc, or even guide it slightly mid-flight if your affinity with the system is high enough. But remember, the further it travels, the less stable it becomes. That's why Fireball always detonates on impact or after a set distance."

He paused, giving me a moment to process. "And that brings us to the explosion. When the Fireball hits its target—or destabilizes in midair—the compressed energy rapidly expands. This triggers an explosive release of heat and force, the very essence of its destructive power. The system calculates the exact timing to ensure maximum damage."

I frowned. "So, without a system, none of this is possible?"

He gave me a measured look. "Possible? Sure. But practical? Not really. Without a system, you'd have to master energy compression, elemental alignment, stabilization, and precise control. And even then, the chances of something going wrong are… high. After all, some ice mages can cast fireball, but once they learn, the skill is implemented in their system, no longer forcing them to manually perform it. And of course, you need to be in the right class to use it…I won't be using a fireball anytime soon for instance."

I leaned back, feeling a mix of awe and frustration. "So the system does all the heavy lifting. But… is there anything I can do to understand it better? To replicate it?"

His gaze sharpened. "If you want to experiment, focus on understanding the fundamentals. Energy compression is key. Start small—learn how to condense a stable sphere of energy. From there, work on adding fire properties. But Peter," he added, his tone serious, "this isn't a game. One mistake, and you'll be lucky if you only lose a limb."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over me. "Understood, sir. Start small. Don't blow myself up."

With that, he walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts—and the growing realization that my journey into understanding energy manipulation was just beginning.

The night was still young, and it seemed I had permission to stay here. "Right… compression. That sounds easy enough. But how do I expel it? Not to mention, how do I turn it into fire?"

I shook the thought away. I should start by learning how to expel my internal strength in a condensed form—a sort of blast of invisible cultivation energy. I didn't need to replicate Fireball. A simple long-range attack would benefit me—and if Thea became a warrior, it would benefit her too.

I kept my focus steady, drawing the energy upward. It moved sluggishly, like water through a narrow pipe, until it settled into my palms. The sensation was faint, almost like an itch beneath the surface of my skin.

"Compress," I whispered again, trying to mimic the idea of forming a core, but without the sheer force or permanence it required. I visualized the energy coiling into a tight point where the reservoir in my hand used to be. A tingle spread through my palm, followed by a slight pressure, as if the energy was resisting.

But now came the part I hadn't figured out—what to do with it. Up until now, everything I knew about cultivation had been about circulating energy, diffusing it into my body, and using it to strengthen myself. Expelling it? That was uncharted territory.

The pressure in my palm started to waver, the energy threatening to unravel. Think, Peter. I remembered how world energy seemed to leak out when I lost focus during training, or when I sparred with Thea. Maybe… maybe the answer was in letting it escape, but in a controlled way.

I adjusted my stance slightly, anchoring myself. Slowly, I willed the energy to gather again, pulling it into my palm and compressing it as much as I could. The tingle turned sharper, almost like a gentle burn, as the energy pushed back against my control.

"Alright," I murmured. "Let's try this."

Instead of forcing it out, I focused on releasing it, like letting air escape from a balloon. I relaxed my grip on the energy and visualized it surging outward, flowing in the same direction as my palm.

A faint ripple burst from my hand, scattering loose dust and grass. The release was clumsy and weak, more like a sigh of air than a blast, but it was something. My heart raced as I stared at my hand.

"Okay… okay, that's progress."

I tried again, this time compressing the energy tighter, holding it longer. The sensation grew stronger, the tingle almost numbing. With a slow exhale, I released it, visualizing the energy shooting out from my palm.

The ripple was slightly stronger this time, spreading in a wider arc before fading into nothing. Still weak, still crude—but undeniable. I could feel the energy leaving me, however briefly.

I repeated the process over and over, each attempt refining the motion. Sometimes the energy fizzled out before I could release it; other times, the pressure rebounded, leaving my palm aching. But the more I tried, the more consistent the results became.

By the time the first light of dawn painted the sky, I was drenched in sweat, my arms trembling with fatigue. But I could do it—barely. A crude, unrefined burst of energy, like a shotgun blast at close range. It wasn't powerful, and it didn't travel far, but it was real.

Panting, I flexed my fingers, feeling the dull ache in my palms. "It's not perfect," I muttered, watching the faint disturbance in the grass where my last attempt had landed. "But it's a start."

Exhausted but exhilarated, I stood and stretched, the sky glowing faintly with the promise of morning. For the first time in this world, I felt like I had something truly mine.

I sat down and grabbed the papers and ink, quickly scribbling down everything I'd discovered, hoping Thea could understand and use it. Once finished, I bundled the notes with the books and stuffed them into the bag, making a mental note to split the points with her later as well.

Shuffling back to camp, weighed down by exhaustion after staying up all night, I placed the bag where Thea would see it when she woke. On top, I added a small note written in this world's characters that simply read, Happy Birthday, Warrior Princess Grandmaster.

Finally, I lay down, knowing I'd only get a couple of hours of rest at most.