“You do not yet possess the skill necessary to develop a fighting style.” Oliver said, much to Gareth’s sadness. “But… I think we can make this work. We must conduct a number of tests that will determine the extents and limitations of your abilities. Something most people do not realise is that most of an ability’s information is not included within System’s notification. The System just does not have the necessary scope to cover every aspect of an ability within a single notification. Most cultivators attend services at a System temple to get the true scope an ability, but since all the priests are missing I will teach your the ancient methods of testing one's own abilities. This method is time intensive, and sometimes aspects of abilities can remain hidden for years. Its main benefit being that you will train the ability, more than you get told what it does: you will therefore know the ability more intimately.”

  “What types of tests are we running here?” Gareth’s sandy brows furrowed. He was inherently suspicious of people trying to perform tests on him, justifiably, and just the mention of tests nearly sent him down a spiral of suspicion. His face was flushed from his pre-workout warm-up so it his his flush of panic, but Oliver's following words calmed him greatly.

  “Nothing drastic. We will test how many times you are able to activate the ability before it needs a cooldown, as an ability can sometimes be overcharged. We will time how long does it take to activate and use each ability, as each second counts in combat. Can you variate how its activation consumes essence, and does that have an effect on the ability’s power? Finally, what are the effects of each breath weapon? Essence is not elemental mana, it is the primary product before essence and pure mana - otherwise known as Qi - combine to form elemental mana. Each person's essence is therefore somewhat unique, even if they both have fire essence.”

  “That's a lot to take in, but I get the principle at least. Where do you want me to start?”

  I might not be keen for scientific tests, and if a cunt comes near me with a needle I’ll ice his ass...but this sounds reasonable – He thought and continued doing his stretches.

  “What do you say we start with the basics? Blast the dummy with a fire breath attack.” Oliver waved at the steel-mesh training dummy, standing in the sand pit. It was essentially a wooden post decorated with bamboo shoots in the rough approximation of a man. The rough green bamboo was covered with a thick leather, which was in turn covered with a steel mesh in some sections.

  With a nod, Gareth focused on his right lung – the fire one. Gareth had read a medical primer Guanji had given him as homework, so he could visualise deeply into the centre of his lung, dangling from the centres his innermost alveoli, were sparks of yellow fire essence that he could spool up similarly to his stomach essence, and ignite that spark into a blazing sphere that would rapidly fill his lung with flame!

  It was sick as fuuuuck! – he hyped himself up, still not used to the sensation of essentially vomiting from the lung.

  He had learned quickly that he could increase or decrease the essence swirl by manipulating his breath, just like the fire in his stomach. Luckily, he had been forced to stay bedridden for three days after waking up, and he had had nothing to do except play with his breath. Guanji hadn't been impressed when he’d crisped a corner of his bedsheet, though.

  He took three quick and huffing breaths, stoking the fire in his lungs until it felt like it wanted to come bursting free. At that point he had to hold his breath, while flexing his stomach as hard as possible. He could feel the pressure building in his chest, but largely in his head, as his face turned red with tension! All he needed to do was let go.

  So he did.

  A great plume of flame immediately spewed from his mouth in what could generously be called a “cone”.

  His oral technique was so bad, in fact, that globules of sticky fire fell down his Gi and started to burn little holes through its white material.

  “Well well well! Sticky fire! What a nightmare to deal with.” Oliver said and clapped his gauntletted hands excitedly. “How do you feel, lad? Could you go again immediately?”

  The fire seemed to stick to whatever it touched, like grade-A napalm, and seemed to burn for 5 seconds longer than it should have naturally.

  “My mouth tingles a little, and it feels like I should be scared for my dental health.”

  “Oh! Don't fret, your teeth’ll be just fine. Any chance you could do it twice in a row?” He said insistently, “Remember: we want to see in how consecutively you can perform the attack." Oliver raised his brows but winked to take the sting out of rushing him.

  Gareth let his gaze switch inwards, and felt around for the ephemeral swirling essence to check his ‘tank’ so-to-speak.

  It was much diminished, but only by: “Half, I think. If the steam breath needs the same, then I don't think I’ll be able to breathe another pure flame breath.”

  “That will be alright. Pop off a water breath and let's see how it goes.”

  Five quick breaths was all he needed to get the water lung going, swirling, though it was more difficult to get going than the fire. It was just like the fire lung, but with drops of blue in his alveoli that produced a stream of pure cerulean water that only slightly felt like vomiting each time he did it. It sent him into an involuntary coughing fit each time.

  Once he had the drops spinning at a good clip, and he felt the pressure building…he released!

  The stream of water didn't even reach the dummy 5 metres away.

  "Kind of lacklustre if you ask me.” Gareth said while coughing gagging slightly. For some reason it tickled the back of his throat mightily.

  “Not bad for your first time.” Oliver said with a supportive grin, making Gareth like him slightly more. “Clearly that was not good for your stomach, any other side-effects?”

  Gareth shook his head, “Not much, though I feel the water drained a lot more from me than the fire. Also, I wonder how the lungs sealing themselves so that the water isn't going into the fire and vice versa.” He then inspected his lung's essence reserves as a whole, “It feels like those little embers are dormant. I can feel them pulsing as they absorb something each time I inhale. It's a crazy sensation.”

  “I can only imagine. Luckily, abilities draw from ambient essence. Just keep breathing and your one lung will draw heat from the air, and the other moisture. I have an ability that is similar; glands in my mouth that can shoot poison, which ignites with contact to the air.”

  “Must be a bitch to drool in your sleep, huh?” Gareth laughed and hoped for a little banter, to make him feel less like Oliver was a pretty boy so that he could get over his dislike.

  “Oh eye, scorched one or two of the finest brothels Colthis had to offer!” he said with a wink.

  “I couldn't imagine you in a brothel.” Gareth laughed and stretched out his back, walking over to the wooden sword rack to retrieve his weapon.

  “I had a life before Volun, junior brother. There was a time when these luscious locks were nothing more than a dream."

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  He flipped his prince charming, shoulder length golden hair, “That is, until I became rich enough to afford a tier 5 golden hair growth potion.”

  He pulled a small sparkling bottle from his dimensional storage ring, “This here potion changed my life with the fairer sex like you wouldn't believe.”

  He looked into the distance, a smug smirk painting his handsome face.

  “Now, they are like sprites to a flame.” He finished with a hearty chuckle and put the flask away.

  “Are you married?” Gareth asked as it became clear they were taking a small break. He held his sword ready and took a few sips from a waterskin to quench his parched throat.

  “Ha-HA! They could only wish. I find myself with a small case of decision paralysis.”

  At Gareth's head-cock he explained, “You see, I love the grace and elegance *cough* -thigh gap-” he said in a stage whisper, “of Kreppinfay maidens. But the voluptuous talents *cough* -breasts- of orc women keep me coming back. The dwarven women might seem small, but in my experience, they are the fiercest lovers of them all.”

  “Haha! I get what you mean man, I can respect it.”

  He chose not to share that he was a one-girl kinda guy, but he had no right to judge someone else’s proclivities.

  When it looked like Oliver was about to keep going down his list of Sethnari, Gareth hurriedly interrupted with a laugh and a slight whack of the sword, “You rested enough old man!?” he taunted.

  With a knowing smirk Oliver gracefully let the topic change, “En garde!”

  Oliver effortlessly parried Gareth's right-left-up-down combo then reposted with his own stab at Gareth's midsection with his own little combo. Nothing complicated. Gareth might be a beginner, which meant he'd memorised all of his basic combos, but his muscles were weak, his experience greener than a one year sapling.

  A little less than two hours of light exercise later, Gareth felt his internal spark of essence in each lung fully replenish.

  “It could be that increased breathing, like training, could recharge your lungs faster.” Oliver suggested as he casually leaned against the wooden fence surrounding the large sand training square, his own wooden training sword resting on his shoulder.

  “That isn't that big of an increase, I think.” Gareth said from where sat with his elbows resting on his knees, his of training sword clasped in his shaking right hand and resting on his leather vambrace.

  “Do not underestimate this quality. When you reach tier 1, most abilities increase by about 25-45%. Which means you could cut your abilities' cooldown time by half if you're breathing hard, like when you're running away from something until you can use your breath attack again.” he winked.

  “Now, let's see you breathe some STEAM! Hahaha!”

  Gareth focussed inwards and with a few inhalations got the energies swirling again. Well, here goes nothing.

  Soon the pressure had built to a reasonable degree, not nearly as much as he used for an individual blast…and-uh…let rip.

  The energies immediately surged from each lung, and met in his trachea to explosive effect. His throat was forced open like the great Mount Vesuvius, and a massive conflagration of steam, speckled with tongues of flame, and globules of water came surging forth. It managed to cover the training dummy and Oliver completely, and each time a flame met a water droplet, a small explosion of steam would sparkle.

  Unfortunately, this was not the end of it because Oliver, as well as a 10 metre cone of sand, were drenched and burnt.

  “Well that went arseways quickly.” Oliver said as he casually weathered the attack, not even flinching from the weak elemental effect.

  “What the abyss do you think you’re doing?! You completely broke my concentration!” A petulant voice called from nearby, as the young trainy, likely somewhere in his early twenties, strode over from where he and his own trainer had been sparring in the sand.

  “So *cough-cough* sorry there *cough*. Didn’t know-” before he could finish the guy was on top of him and shoving Gareth’s face into the sand.

  Of course, Gareth being the emaciated 43 kilograms that he was, could put up fuck-all of a fight, though he did manage to knee him in the groin on the way down.

  “Now-now!” Oliver chided, “There is no need for that.” he said and got between the two by lifting cunt-face by the back of his collar.

  “You keep your cripple contained, or I’ll have him barred from the training yard!” Cunt-face’s trainer likewise got into Oliver’s face and threateningly poked him in the chest.

  A surge of aura exploded out from Oliver and blanketed the nearby area, paralysing cunt-face and cunt-face senior.

  “You will mind your words Gregory, or I’ll feed them to you.'' his voice was quiet, like the surface of a river hiding roaring currents.

  When the aura lifted, Gregory and cunt-face shuddered with repressed rage. "I am the son of Earl Titus Monsbery, Edward Monsbery, and this slight shall not be forgotten!" Edward Cuntface Monsbery threatened and Gareth memorised his stupid face. He had the youthful complexion of someone who spent most of their time indoors, the smooth skin of someone who was pampered, and the dark blue eyes of someone who usually got their way. It would be incorrect to say he was smoothly shaven, as Gareth doubted the guy had the ability to even grow a partial beard. He was taller than Gareth by a good foot, and outweighed him in pure muscle. He didn't stand a chance if Oliver hadn't been around.

  Gareth grit his teeth and shoved himself to his feet, retrieved his training sword from where it had fallen, and spooled up a full breath of flame, his anger motivating the mastery of the ability. His focus solely devoted to the action of forcefully inhaling through his nose, as deeply as he could/ Flexing his chest muscles and clenching his stomach with an iron will, he breathed flame.

  The training dummy, because Gareth was not so foolish and driven by impulse so as to incinerate Cuntface, was bathed in a controlled five foot cone of searing red and yellow flame. The breath lasted for a solid five seconds, and left Gareth's face tingling from the heat. He did not look behind him to see the young fuck's reaction, he would not give him that, but the threat was made. The line drawn.

  Cross it, at your peril.

  “Gregory should know better than to allow that kind of behaviour. It seems a challenge in the arena is in order.” Oliver grumped and refocused back onto Gareth from where he had been staring at the other trainer.

  Gareth didn't care to look at him either. He merely raised his sword, and scowled, "Then please teach me how to beat assholes like him."

  Oliver smirked and raised his own blade once more, "Then me newest teaching is as follows: Strike at their body, not at their sword."

  Then he lunged, blade leading.

  -

  That night Guanji helped Gareth get around the theory of what he had to do to actually use his steam breath. Turns out, unlike with the other two breath weapons, he had to gradually, carefully introduce the two energies in exact ratios. Then let the steam gradually build pressure on his trachea, in theory.

  In practice, Gareth found it to be extremely difficult.

  That night was also the night Guanji gave him his first mission. It started with Guanji commenting on Gareth's rather sour mood.

  "You seem troubled, Gareth Elson. What seems to be the problem?" Guanji asked. He had the tone of a teacher, or even a father, whose question could not be refused. So, Gareth recounted the events of his training session with Oliver.

  Much of Gareth's anger had faded, replaced with an inner frustration that Guanji spotted immediately.

  "You have rested for long enough, Gareth Elson. Your mind requires work. Tomorrow, your true Protectoship training will start." He produced a leather bound notebook, about the size of Gareth's hand. "Your first task will be to ascertain the identity of each person living on the estate. The lesson is that you must be aware, at all times, of who sleeps under the same roof as your charge. You must memorise their appearance, and return to me with a notarised list of individuals, of whom I will provide the name once you present their appearance. If their description is too vague, I will refuse to give their name until you scout them out again. You will have one week to successfully identify all 40 individuals living on the grounds. Any questions?"

  "What will happen with my class times?" Gareth asked, somewhat daunted by the task of spying on 40 people. He knew some of the fundamentals of spying, he'd seen enough actions movies, actually having to do it himself was a different prospect. He wasn't a little bitch, though, and would give it his best. His only concern were his other classes, lest he accidentally misses one of them.

  "I feel you have learned enough from Connor Grimsbane; who informs me that you studied well under him. Congratulations on passing your first class. Instead of attending his class, you will instead devoted three hours each day to Protectorship training, presented by yours truly." Guanji's handsome face turned positively menacing, "I am a hard taskmaster, Gareth Elson. Failure to complete my tasks will result in remedial training. Good luck."

  Then the old fuck left the house, leaving Gareth with a ball of anxiety churning in his gut.