Chapter 415: A Path Forward
Arran sat in complete silence, his body completely unmoving and a blank look in his eyes. Had it not been for the faint smile on his lips, it would have been easy to think that he'd fallen into a stupor.
But while his exterior seemed frozen, the picture within his interior was completely different. There, strands of Essence circulated continuously, the energy incessantly forming various intricate patterns as it permeated every fiber of his body.
This Essence consisted of two distinct types.
The first of these was Shadow Essence. Perfectly controlled, its motion followed Arran's commands without the slightest effort on his part, the patterns it formed changing instantly at his slightest thought.
He was, after all, a Master of Shadow magic, his control honed to the extreme by the countless years he'd spent trapped in the Shadow world.
The second type of Essence was Natural Essence. And although its flows mirrored the flows of Shadow Essence, its movements weren't quite as smooth, its patterns not quite as perfect. A single glance was enough to know that Arran's control of it was lacking compared to his mastery of Shadow Essence.
But with every hour that passed, his control improved. The patterns grew more intricate, the flows of Essence more precise. And if a tremendous gap still existed between his skill at manipulating the two kinds of Essence, that gap was gradually growing smaller.
"Two weeks," he said to himself. "Less, maybe. By then, it should be possible…"
If he wanted to strengthen the greater bloodlines he'd received, there were only two paths from which he could choose — the church's path and the Imperial Knights' path.
He'd already rejected the former, as it was slower than he could accept. And as for the latter, all he knew was that it involved finding a way to control the bloodlines.
By any reasonable standard, that tiny shred of information should be useless. Knowing that magic existed did not make one a mage, and knowing that bloodlines could be controlled did not allow one to do so.
But Arran had things that others lacked. Not only was his Sense was sharper than any Knight's, but he'd also had years to observe the Blood Ruin within his body, gradually gaining an understanding of the Body Refinement method it contained.
Most crucially, he'd spent years trapped inside the Shadow world, where he was forced to use Shadow Essence to nourish his body, using as if it were Natural Essence.
None of that would let him control his bloodlines. But then, what he needed wasn't full control. Just being able to strengthen them directly would be more than enough.
And that was well within his reach.
All it required was for him to control the Natural Essence that fed the bloodlines — to focus its power on a single bloodline of his choosing, rather than letting it be used to strengthen his body and his other bloodlines.
The first step toward that goal was honing his skill at controlling the Natural Essence already within his body. And for that, he needed practice.
The hours passed quickly, with Arran fully absorbed in his task. Time after time he formed patterns of Shadow Essence, and each time, he would replicate them with Natural Essence. Then, he would use his Sense to seek out the differences between the patterns.
The method was simple but highly effective, far better than anything a teacher could provide. After all, each mistake he made — and he made plenty — would be obvious at once, allowing him to correct himself at once.
But effective as the method was, it was also tiring. After half a day of rapid improvement, Arran felt he could go no more. By now, he could tell that his control was actually beginning to weaken, his focus all but completely drained by the constant effort.
He did not attempt to push through his exhaustion. Instead, after a moment's thought, he decided to take the opportunity to get some rest.
The task he'd set himself was a difficult one, after all, and succeeding would require his full concentration. With that the case, trying to rush things would do more harm than good.
The next morning, Arran was roused from his slumber by a light knock on the door.
Although he had half a mind to ignore the voice and go back to sleep — he doubted the priests would dare barge in — he forced himself to rise, adjusting his clothes before opening the door.
Waiting behind it, he found a cheery-faced priest. Short and round-figured, the man more resembled an affable innkeeper than he did a clergyman. Had it not been for his neat white robes, Arran could easily have believed he was a servant.
"I trust the morning finds you well?" The priest gave Arran a friendly smile, apparently not the least bit annoyed at having been kept waiting.
"Well enough," Arran replied. "I suppose it's time to leave?"
"It is," the priest said, a smile on his face. "Your companion should be ready to leave, as well."
Arran gave the man a nod. "Lead on, then."
It only took a few minutes before they reached the large chamber where he'd parted ways with Kaleesh the previous day, and as he stepped inside, he saw that the captain was already waiting for him.
Kaleesh's expression was thoughtful, though there was a subtle hint of dissatisfaction in his eyes. From the look on his face, it wasn't just Arran who was been disappointed with the church's offering.
"Not what you expected?" Arran asked as he approached.
"Good morning to you, as well." Kaleesh sighed before continuing, "As for the bloodline, it's…" His voice trailed off mid-sentence, as if he wasn't entirely sure of what to say.
"Weak?" Arran asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. While he'd been disappointed with his bloodlines, it should be different for Kaleesh. After all, his friend had no powerful bloodlines to suppress the new one.
"Not weak, exactly," Kaleesh said. "But not as strong as I expected, either."
At this, a laugh sounded from the priest who accompanied Arran. "Don't be too quick in judging your bloodlines," he said. "You have to remember that you are in the Desolation. Right now, the bloodlines are only able to show a tenth of their true power."
"A tenth?" Arran's eyes went wide with surprise. Though the Blood Ruin was suppressed by the Desolation, he guessed that it still had half its power available. He'd assumed the same was true for these new bloodlines, but now, it seemed the difference was far greater than that.
"More or less," the priest confirmed. "The effects can vary slightly, but you have to understand that bloodlines suffer more from the Desolation's suppression than other parts of one's strength."
For some moments, Arran was too stunned to speak — not so much because of this new information, but because he knew he should have realized it far sooner.
Upon entering the Desolation, he'd noticed almost immediately that its suppression seemed weaker for him than it was for the Rangers in the Wolfsblood Army. And although he had no explanation for this, his suspicion had been that it must be related to the Blood Ruin.
Seeing Arran's dumbfounded expression, the priest grinned. "I see you're beginning to understand how potent the bloodlines truly are. Besides, what you have now is just the beginning. As you grow stronger, so will your bloodlines."
Arran nodded quietly, though his surprise was not for the reason the priest thought. Instead, he realized that in underestimating the bloodlines, he'd inadvertently stumbled upon a great fortune.
The method he'd devised to strengthen the bloodlines was one born of a misunderstanding, but that made it no less useful. If anything, with the bloodlines more potent than he'd thought, it would be even more valuable. Rather than sharpening a rusty blade, he would be polishing a treasure.
"But that's enough from me." Though the priest still spoke in a friendly tone, a hint of impatience had appeared in his voice. "You will come to appreciate the bloodlines' power in due time."
"We'd best leave, then," Arran said, understanding that the priest was ready to see them off.
The priest nodded. "I understand that your camp lies a few days to the south. If you wish, I can arrange for you to be escorted—"
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