"Ugh."
Crack.
"Ow."
Thud.
"Dammit—"
Snap!
"I want my mommy."
Crash.
"Son of a—!"
BOOM.
Kei hit the ground with a final, resounding impact, groaning as he lay sprawled out, staring up at the treetops that had just brutalized him on his way down. He was more than positively sure that he broke a few ribs—or at the very least, bruised every part of his body.
Hachi padded over and sniffed at his side, tilting its head as if silently judging him. Zeph crouched nearby, arms crossed, shaking its head in disapproval.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Kei wheezed, waving them off weakly before rolling onto his back. "Not my best idea."
But if they were going to silently judge him, they at least deserved to know why he was currently embedded in the dirt.
It all started after learning Phantom Breeze.
Kei had begun paying more attention to movement-based abilities, knowing that as someone aligned with a wind minor force, his mobility was going to be one of his greatest strengths.
Tempest Step let him fold into the wind and move unpredictably.
Phantom Breeze let him erase his presence as he moved.
Now?
He wanted something for long-range traversal.
Since the Expanse was mostly a dense forest, being able to travel through the treetops with speed and efficiency would be a massive advantage.
Thus, the trials began.
Summoning a controlled gust of wind, Kei lifted himself onto a sturdy tree branch, balancing carefully as he adjusted to the height.
"Alright," he muttered,flexing his legs in preparation.
His goal was simple: leap from this branch to the next, using wind to enhance his movement and keep himself airborne.
He bent his knees, focused on the next tree, and pushed off—
Only for gravity to immediately remind him of its unwavering authority.
Halfway across, his momentum faltered.
"Ah, damn it—"
The wind didn’t catch him in time, and he plummeted.
Crack!
First branch.
Thud!
Second branch.
Whump!
Third—oh, no, that was his face hitting the trunk.
"Oh, come on!" Kei barely had time to complain before—
BOOM.
He hit the ground in a heap, groaning.
Above him, Hachi and Zeph peered down with an almost bored expression.
"Okay, that was not it," Kei grumbled, pushing himself up, wincing. He dusted himself off, rolling his shoulders. "Let’s try that again."
Zeph sighed heavily, while Hachi snickered before returning to chewing on a random twig.
Undeterred, Kei climbed back up using another controlled gust of wind, landing back on the branch.
This time, he studied the way the wind moved around him.
Kei continued his repeated attempts, each failure landing him in progressively more painful positions. Every bruised rib, every awkward fall, every moment of wind knocking out of his lungs only reinforced his determination.
Through trial and error, he made slight adjustments—experimenting with the way he launched himself, the timing of his jumps, and how much Aether he infused into his movements. Some attempts sent him too far, others not far enough. Sometimes he miscalculated his landing and ended up swinging off a branch instead of landing on it properly.
But with each failure came progress.
As he refined his technique, Zeph and Hachi were locked in their own training below.
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The Zephyr Monkey’s strikes were precise, its movements fluid as it used both the wind and its natural agility to weave through attacks. Hachi, though noticeably weaker, refused to be outdone. He put everything into his sparring, his persistence shining through.
And it showed.
His Aether-infused strikes grew sharper, his projected attacks becoming more solid. His movements, though still a bit wild, were adapting to a more refined style. He wasn’t just lashing out blindly anymore—he was calculating his attacks, improving his footwork, and taking advantage of openings.
But what stood out the most was his tail.
As if inspired by the martial arts training he'd witnessed from both Kei and Zeph, Hachi had begun integrating his tail into combat. It was no longer just a tool for balance—it became a weapon.
Summoning a large Aether-projected tail, he began experimenting with different strikes, sweeping attacks, and even using it defensively to counter Zeph’s flurry of wind-imbued punches.
The battlefield below became a clash of two fighters growing in their own ways—one refining its natural talents, the other forging a new path through sheer grit.
And up above, Kei—finally starting to feel the rhythm of the wind—prepared to make yet another attempt.
Kei bent his knees, flexing his muscles, making the necessary adjustments as he prepared for another attempt. With a deep breath, he launched himself toward the next tree branch.
The wind caught him, his body moving fluidly through the air.
For a moment, he thought he’d miscalculated again, but his instincts—sharpened by days of training—kicked in, and he twisted his body just enough to regain control. His foot landed on the branch, and though he teetered for a second, he held his balance.
Finally.
A smirk tugged at his lips. He was getting better.
And so, their training continued.
Zeph and Hachi sparred, refining their skills against each other, their progress evident with every exchange.
[Fangcub]
Species: Wolf
[Force Alignment]: Unavailable
[Level]: 3
Attributes:
- Strength: 18 → 24
- Dexterity: 31 → 37
- Agility: 25 → 30
- Constitution: 14 → 20
- Intelligence: 6 → 10
- Will: 6 → 12
- Charisma: 10
Skills:
- Howl of Resilience – Emits a piercing howl, temporarily boosting Will and Constitution for survival.
- Lunging Rend – A swift burst attack that slashes deep into the target with increased Dexterity scaling.
- Instinctive Evasion – A reflex-based skill that grants a brief speed boost when detecting sudden danger.
- Aether Projection – Commands aether in the environment to his aid. This skill does not consume his own aether but can be enhanced by supplying his own energy. Effectiveness is based on the amount of aether infused.
But Hachi had developed something new as well.
He had already mastered the ability to summon and launch Aether projections from a distance, but now he had taken it a step further. By hardening his fur with Aether, he could fire sharp, needle-like quills at high velocity.
Kei had learned firsthand how dangerous this ability was when Hachi, in an excited attempt to show off his new technique, had nearly skewered his arm.
The Fangcub had been incredibly proud of its improvement. Kei, not so much.
Zeph, on the other hand, had undergone his own transformation.
The Zephyr Monkey had spent most of its life perfecting its martial arts, honing its movements, and guarding the 10,000-Year Zephyr Ginger, drawing in its energy over time.
But something changed after consuming Kei’s blood.
Like Hachi, it had started experiencing subtle yet undeniable changes.
The wind, which had always been its ally, now obeyed with even greater ease. Its attacks were sharper, more precise, carrying an authority they hadn’t before. It wasn’t just controlling the wind—it was commanding it.
And just like Hachi, Zeph had awakened an ability that Kei couldn’t ignore.
One moment, they had been sparring. The next, Zeph had casually raised a hand, summoning an Aether-forged projection—a massive, cyan-green spectral fist.
Before Kei could react—
BOOM.
He had been sent flying straight into the nearest water source, his body skipping across the surface like a thrown stone.
Coughing up water, he sat up, drenched and glaring at Zeph, who simply grinned at him with a look that clearly said: That was payback for all the times you pelted me with pebbles.
Kei sighed, running a hand through his soaked hair.
Their growth was undeniable.
And so was the fact that he was probably going to regret feeding them his blood for the rest of his life.
Like that, from tree branch to tree branch, Kei used the wind to aid his traversal, gradually getting the hang of it. Soon, he was able to rocket himself steadily from tree to tree, the wind acting as a guiding force, smoothing out his movements.
But that wasn’t his true goal.
The wind was just a crutch—training wheels.
His original intention was to move through the trees solely with his body, no Aether, no Force. He wanted to rely only on his natural physical abilities, just as he had seen people do in movies, leaping from building to building with precise control.
And so, he slowly removed the training wheels, using the wind less and relying more on his own body.
It was like relearning how to jump across tree branches from scratch, but this forced him to understand his body better—to control every minute movement, every shift of weight, every angle of his limbs as he moved.
The unexpected boon?
As he removed his reliance on external aid, he became hyper-aware of his body's mechanics—the way his blood pumped, how his muscles contracted and relaxed, how ligaments stretched and joints absorbed impact.
It wasn’t just an improvement in movement; it was a biological revelation.
Back on Earth, he had been a freakishly skilled expert in any field he had thrown himself into, biology included. And now, in real-time, he was experiencing his own body in a way few ever could. He could feel the micro-adjustments necessary for control, the subtle shifts in balance that separated success from failure.
With each attempt, he refined his technique. Each misstep taught him something new.
He wasn’t just leaping through the trees—he was mastering the act of movement itself.
And eventually, he succeeded.
No wind. No Force. No Aether.
Just him, his body, and gravity.
He grinned as he moved through the trees, not as fluid as the ninja he admired from fiction, but close enough that he was satisfied with the progress.
Later, gathered around their usual clearing, the three of them sat down to eat. Each of them bore bruises and scrapes from training, but none of them minded.
Kei had been expanding his senses through Breeze Force, slowly pushing out its radius, refining it bit by bit. Through it, he had been able to locate some vegetables growing naturally—carrots, potatoes, and others.
It didn’t make sense.
Plants here didn’t seem to follow the usual rules of growth.
But Kei wasn’t about to complain about free food.
As they ate, scattered around the clearing, an unusual sight surrounded them.
Carved into the dirt, drawn in blood with careful, deliberate strokes, were the characters 追い (Oi).
Hachi and Zeph never knew why Kei insisted on doing this.
It seemed to relax him, like a ritual, something deeply personal that they didn’t understand.
So, they never questioned it.
They simply let him be.