CHAPTER 9: Shaping Thunder and Lightning - Part 2

  Dorian designed a test to assess this. The waterfall from the cliff's peak formed a series of pools below. Varne stood in a medium-sized pool with water up to his waist and plunged Ruin Fist.

  A loud explosion resounded. Water shot up like a pillar before falling back down as heavy rain. The water were reduced by half, with the rest pooling up to his knees.

  “You have to empty it with one punch,” Dorian said. He sat cross-legged not far away, holding an umbrella.

  Varne repeated the test all day and still failed. The next morning, he returned to the same spot. Dorian sat in the same place with the same umbrella.

  “Uncle, wait. The destructive power of the technique is determined by its maximum power and my maximum Prana. Could it be it's not that I haven't fully mastered Ruin Fist, but my Prana is insufficient?”

  “Measuring Prana and Mana is not straightforward, but I didn't set this test arbitrarily. The maximum power of Ruin Fist is ten percent, meaning with this technique, you can at most release one-tenth of your Prana. And no matter how large your Prana is, you can only unleash it ten times. Now, try to perform the technique consecutively but stop before exhaustion. Know the effect of Prana exhaustion?”

  “Dead?”

  “Yes, eventually. Prana is related to bodily functions. Before dying, your internal organs will fail, causing bleeding and various issues, and only then death. Even if you manage to recover, there's still a risk of permanent disability.”

  “Agonizing death. I understand.”

  Varne exerted Ruin Fist with both hands, striking the air one after another. Each explosion pushed the air out, creating a vacuum that made colors appear duller. He began to feel tired approaching twentieth strike.

  “Rest for a while, then use Ruin Fist twice on the pool,” Dorian said.

  Water pillars spouted twice. This time, the entire pool was drained.

  “It means your mastery is only at five percent,” Dorian said.

  Varne sighed. The training was neither enjoyable nor easy. Laboring without a clear goal only made everything harder.

  ***

  BOOM!

  The birds at the cliff's peak fluttered away at the sound of Ruin Fist. The barren valley around the pool had turned green with moss after countless water splashes.

  Dorian opened his umbrella before the water poured down. He nodded to Varne, indicating that he had mastered Ruin Fist.

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  Lorn was right, the boy indeed had it. There was no doubt about it. On average, Prana could fully recover once a day, but Varne could recover three times. His rapid regeneration is what enabled him to train at an above-average speed as well.

  As a scholar by nature, he wanted to study Varne, to uncover all its secrets and inner workings. However, he and Lorn had agreed not to talk or teach anything unnecessary.

  “Prepare lunch. I need to rest awhile.” He folded his umbrella and ascended the stone stairs on the hillside.

  Why now?

  Dorian reached the top of the hill. He, a Prana Decima, gasped for breath over something as trivial as climbing stairs. Why did his ailment worsen now after years of dormancy? It felt like awaiting Varne's arrival. No matter. He did not mind. At least he could repay some of his debt.

  He lay down on a mattress stuffed with grain husks. From the rafters hung a bunch of unrecognizable dried plants. He forgot their purpose. Perhaps to ward off mosquitoes. He forgot, as he forgot many things. Lately, he remembered only the things he wished to forget.

  Varne brought in a bowl of thick barley soup with broth, eggs, minced meat, and who knows what herbs since his sense of smell had disappeared a few days ago.

  “Can't Prana heal you, Uncle?” Varne asked as he filled a plate on the table. Dorian had just managed to get up from the bed on his second attempt.

  “Prana can accelerate the healing of injury and illnesses,” Dorian said as he sat across from Varne and spooned some soup. He could not feel anything but the heat. Pity, Varne was good at cooking.

  “It can even enhance our recovery capacity. We can recover completely from injuries that would otherwise cause disability. It enhances the body's ability to manage the numerous complications associated with wounds as well.”

  “What about illnesses?”

  “Prana can't cure illnesses that the body can't naturally overcome or repair damage that's already set in. It can delay age-related illnesses and degeneration but not stop them.”

  “How about you, Uncle?”

  He finished his soup. “If I could, I wouldn't be like this, would I?”

  “Wait a moment. Why does father have scars?”

  “That's because he deliberately stopped the flow of his Prana. Many do that, keeping scars as reminders or for various reasons.”

  Dorian sipped a cup of apple juice and honey. “I want to teach you how to use weapons other than a sword, and also how to read and write. But I don't have much time. Starting tomorrow, we'll move on to the last lesson for a Prana Decima, how to materialize Prana Armor.”

  From that day on, he continued his lessons from the bed. He would give instructions, and Varne would practice on his own. Through the window, he saw Varne failing to form Prana Armor day by day.

  Prana Armor was a technique of projecting Prana throughout the body to form an armor. Forming Prana Armor was similar to performing a Prana technique, but it was much more difficult because it required irrigating more secondary nodes spread throughout the body. Just like Prana techniques, the defensive power of Prana Armor also depended on the individual's maximum Prana capacity.

  At first, Varne could only strain and grunt in the center of the yard. Then he managed to form a part of it but could not maintain it, resulting in explosions. After that, he succeeded in materializing well but still required extensive preparation – a fatal weakness in the lighting-fast Prana duels. Only after two months could he perfect it.

  “Have you thought of a name?” He forced himself out of the house. Sunlight made the back of his head twitch. “Naming your Prana Armor is an old tradition.”

  Varne grinned. “Pale Thundercloud.”

  Prana Armor enveloped Varne’s shoulders, chest, arms, and legs. Every part was a dull whitish-gray, with patterns of purple lightning streaks.

  Dorian returned to his husk mattress right after supper. Part of his burden had been lifted. He and Lorn had sworn to carry their sins until death.

  Out of nowhere, he also remembered the type of plant hanging above him. Bay laurel, hung with red wool. He had bought it from an apothecary to ward off nightmares, and it was utterly useless.

  However, that night, for the first time in so long, he slept without dreaming.