157: Acclimatization (Patreon)

By the time Cirayus arrived at the base of the jagged black mountains whose peaks endured endless lightning strikes, Vir had nearly blacked out. And that was with being carried by the giant on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

If he had to walk? He’d have collapsed long ago.

“There’s no shame in it, lad,” the giant said. “The Ash is not to be taken lightly.“

“Thought… it’d be easier… here,” Vir said through gritted teeth. The whole reason he’d chosen Matali as his entry point was because the monsters in this area of the Ash were supposedly weaker, the prana less dense.

“Aye, easier, not easy. The monsters in the Abyssal Flats are among the weakest in all the Ash. You chose well.”

Vir’s eyes were shut tight as he fought against the onslaught of prana in the atmosphere. Prana that even now sought to worm its way in.

Parai’s reverse channeling technique worked, but it consumed far too much of his concentration. Even a slight slip up meant a deluge of prana would enter his body, undoing the efforts of several minutes.

Vir felt Cirayus jump and opened his eyes to see the ground fade away far below them.

Is he running up the mountains? From his awkward position, Vir couldn’t turn around to see where they were headed. But the soot-blackened slopes were so steep, no average person would dare even attempt to scale them.

Of course, Cirayus was anything but average.

They soon arrived at a small plateau that jutted from the vertical mountainside. Protected by a railing of black stalagmites and an overhand that prevented ash from building up, it was like a balcony that overhung the blighted land below.

Vir so badly wanted to look around. To take in sights that few ever had an opportunity to see. For now, though, the battle in his body took priority.

Cirayus set Vir gently down against a wall. “Speak to me, lad. Tell me what you’re experiencing.”

Vir searched for the words. Then took an extra few seconds to distill it down to the bare facts. Even talking disrupted his concentration, making him lose ground against the Ash that sought to end him.

“Parai. Technique. Holding prana at bay.”

“Parai. As in Parai the Ancient? The prana master. I see… so you bear his memory.”

Vir squinted at Cirayus, who knelt in front of him, a concerned look on his face. He had so many questions for the giant, who seemed to know more about his prior incarnations than everyone he’d ever met, except perhaps Lord Janak.

“Have you tried allowing the prana into you?”

Vir shook his head. “Too much. Dangerous.”

Then again, he couldn't afford to take things safely. He didn't have the time, not when it flowed so much more slowly here.

“Hmm. Odd. All react differently to the Ash, but to have such a violent reaction…”

Does he think me weak?

Vir stole a glance at the demon, expecting to see disappointment. Instead, Cirayus’ eyes glinted, his expression nearly the opposite of disappointment. Was it hope? Expectation? And perhaps a bit of surprise.

Why, though? Is it significant that I’m having this much trouble?

“I’m afraid we’re in uncharted waters,” Cirayus continued. “For now, focus on devising a solution that allows you to be functional. We’re safe here. As safe as any place in the Ash can be, anyway. As you see, even the very air seeks to kill you here.”

“Any other… advice?” Vir asked, grimacing as his lapse in concentration made Parai’s technique to falter, allowing a swath of prana into him.

Cirayus went silent for a moment. “Think of the prana less as a poison, and more as… hmm. Potent water that seeks to strengthen you. A little trickle is good. A tidal wave can drown you.”

Vir frowned. He wants me to accept the prana?

Granted, Vir hadn’t even allowed a trickle inside him out of fear of supersaturation. Until now he’d done everything in his power to keep his body’s prana levels consistent with what they’d been outside the ash, that is to say, far lower than the surroundings.

Perhaps that was a mistake. Clearly, all the other life forms here had adapted to these prana levels, and so had Cirayus. Which proved it was possible. Possibly even required to survive here.

The question was how. There was ash prana in the air! Just like he’d hoped, and so much of it, too! As for the ground, well, that was on another level entirely. Vir did his best not to peer into its depths with Prana Vision, fearing he might get lost in the colossal abyss of prana that lurked there. Nor did he dare activate Talents that used ground prana, for fear of exploding the blood in his body from oversaturation.

Hands, then. It was a small limb, well suited for experimentation.

Vir gingerly allowed Parai’s Reverse Channeling technique to lapse from his fingers. Ash Prana poured in. Too much of it; while he could feel his arm swelling with vitality, the pain that accompanied it told him it was too much for him as he was.

“Some pain is to be expected,” Cirayus said, noticing Vir’s grimace. “At least initially. Think of it more like your body stretching, expanding its limits. Too much, too fast, and it can be fatal.”

Cirayus made a bursting motion with a hand, which Vir only caught through Prana Vision, since his eyes were squeezed shut in intense concentration.

It felt exactly like that. Like his blood had a finite capacity, and that the ambient prana, seeking equilibrium, was desperately attempting to burst it.

Vir didn’t fail to notice the irony. Hadn’t he yearned for this exact situation? More prana than he could hope to ever use? And yet, even water was fatal if consumed too rapidly.

No stranger to pain, Vir allowed the prana to enter him, playing a delicate balance between allowing more prana into his blood, and keeping the levels within safe bounds.

He kept this up for the next minute. Then five. Then ten, but the effort quickly wore on him. It was one thing to deal with the pain of a blade wound or a gut punch. These things, while intense, dissipated eventually.

Not the Ash. Unrelenting, the pain never lessened. Taking a break, he spun up Parai’s technique again, allowing the pain to subside.

Opening his eyes, he found Cirayus sitting cross-legged across from him on the other side of the ledge.

“A break? Do you really have that luxury, lad?”

Vir was taken aback. He’d been spending every second fighting for his life. “Just need a breather. Hard to keep this up.”

Cirayus gave him a pensive look, but didn’t press the issue. “How goes it?”

“Think I’m getting the hang of it,” Vir said slowly, managing a coherent sentence. It wasn’t so much that maintaining Parai’s technique had gotten easier. Rather, he’d just gotten better at multitasking.

With the ability active, Vir noticed his blood carried slightly more prana than usual. It was barely noticeable, but there was definitely progress.

“Just, very slow.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, lad, but this technique, it requires all of your concentration, yes?”

Vir nodded.

“Then tell me, how do you intend to sleep?”

Grakking chal. Vir’s eyes went wide. “I… I can’t. I’ll die.”

“Then it seems you have until your energy runs out to master it.”

— —

The minutes turned into hours, and the hours passed steadily by, one after another, counting down to Vir’s doom.

Vir took no more breaks, working furiously to acclimatize to the prana, but soon understood the brutal truth: He wouldn’t make it.

The problem was, the intense concentration he’d been using drained his mental reserves. After only six hours, he was already exhausted. Worse, he’d entered the Ash after a grueling battle with Cirayus, and had been awake for several hours before that.

Vir was nearing his limit, and the progress he’d made wasn’t nearly enough. At this rate, the moment he slipped into slumber, he’d die.

More. I need more.

Until now, he’d kept a margin of safety in case he slipped up and allowed too much prana into him. For good reason; he frequently messed up. Each slip had been a painful experience, though over time, he’d gotten better. The mistakes came more infrequently, and when they did, he caught them faster.

With grave reservations, Vir dialed back Parai’s reverse technique a smidge more, allowing even more prana to enter his body. The uptick sent a sharp pain ripping through his arm, but he gritted through it.

With as quickly as the body cycled blood, there was no need to do the same anywhere other than his arm. Rather, if he did, he’d die in seconds from the excess prana entering him. At least, initially.

Another hour passed, then two. As his body acclimatized and the pain subsided, Vir dialed Parai’s technique back further. Then he began doing the same on his other arm. Then his legs and torso.

It was at the sixth hour that his consciousness began to lapse. It started first as daydreams. Idle thoughts that filtered into his head. Parai’s technique would stop, prana would assault him, sending him writhing on the cold hard rock, then he’d reassert the technique, take a few moments to recover, and start all over again.

It was an endless cycle, and Vir fell into a daze before falling asleep entirely. Those bouts were far, far worse. He’d nearly doubled his body’s prana capacity, and even then, the full brunt of the Ashen Realm’s onslaught debilitated him. It took him nearly twenty minutes to recover from the pain each time this happened.

He never noticed the looks Cirayus gave him. Looks that had transformed from anxious irritation to appreciation, to outright awe.

Unfortunately, Vir drifted off with increasing frequency, the spikes of pain becoming a familiar presence.

“I’m… not going to make it,” Vir whispered, struggling to keep his eyelids open.

Cirayus grinned. “Lad, you already have.”

“I have?” Vir asked, confused.

“I’ve never seen someone keep a technique active this long. That’s impressive in its own right, but when added to the pain you must be experiencing? Well, you truly are something else. And you know something else I’ve never seen?”

Vir grew somewhat irritated that the giant was leading him on when he was so fatigued. “What?”

Cirayus pointed at his chest. “Nobody can maintain a technique when they’re as tired as you.”

“I don’t get it. What does—oh,” Vir replied, comprehension dawning on him. “Oh.”

“You aren’t cycling Parai’s technique anymore… are you?”

To his horror and amazement—but mostly horror—Vir realized he wasn’t. Quickly, he sought to grab control of his blood, to reassert Parai’s technique.

Huh? That’s odd… The ability activated, the blood traveling through the same pathways as he’d done for so many hours prior. But the pain never subsided. Wait. The pain!?

It was gone. Well, not gone, but the pain had subsided considerably. Peering inward with Prana Vision, Vir found that the Ash prana in the air that had rushed into his body only slowly trickled in now.

“You’re through the worst of it,” Cirayus said. “From here, your body will adjust naturally, given time. Rest, now.”

Deeper. Can go deeper now. Vir had meant to say the words out loud, but the next thing he knew, he’d slumped against the rock, his consciousness fading. Vir allowed it, drifting blissfully off into the land of dreams.

— —

Cirayus looked at the slumbering Ekavir—no, Sarvaak—with pride. Pride and sadness. There had been no lie in his words. None had had such a violent reaction to the Ash. And no none had kept a cycling technique active for that long. Even with his mastery of Balancer of Scales, honed over centuries of effort, Cirayus could barely keep it active for an hour. That was already considered monstrous.

It was no simple feat to hold a simple ability active for long durations. The more complex the technique, the more effort required, and the shorter the active duration.

Cirayus knew not what Parai’s technique did for the boy, other than to hold back the prana that sought to rip his body apart. It likely wasn’t anything too complex; after all, Vir lacked even a single tattoo to align the prana. Yet such a technique had to have covered his entire body. If not, prana would simply leak in from areas where the ability wasn’t active.

Which means it’s likely even more complex than the Ultimate Bloodline arts.

And young Sarvaak had maintained it for half a day. That wasn’t monstrous. It was divine.

The child of Maion and Shari Garga was weak. Far too weak. And yet, Cirayus beamed.

“Lad, you will become a god,” he whispered. “I’m just honored to have been here for it.”