Echoes of the Abyssal Blade: Path to Free Will-Chapter 65: Third Limit Shattered

Breathing in and breathing out, sweat beads started to form on Jonan’s forehead with every breath.

On the second step, his skin started to prickle, the sensation turning his nerves to frayed wires, every heartbeat of his felt like a hammer-blow against his ribcage, sweat which gathered at his brow started sliding down his temples, despite all of this, he persisted believing that he can get adapted to the second step faster.

After improving his spiritual defense in the first step, Jonan felt it easier to adapt at the second step, he felt that, unlike before where it took him half a month to get adapted to the first step, it will take him at most three more days to easily move around in the second step.

Same as before, he started breathing in and out with heaviness.

Minutes passed, and his muscles screamed in protest, his back was burning with strain, there was no sense of time here, only the weight and his own stubborn will, he fought to keep the image of that single eye, the one belonging to the abomination, in his thoughts, he kept reminding himself of the failure that occurred in front of the abomination, and he swore to himself, to not be this helpless against an enemy.

As time passed, his soul was getting weary, yet he gritted his teeth and forced it anyway.

It was during these sessions of his, perhaps a week after first reaching the second step, when he started to persist under the third step, which was affecting his bones too, that something strange happened, and amid that oppressive quiet, while his spirit was braced against the crushing force, Jonan felt... something shift.

His body started feeling light, and he felt as if something that had been holding him back was now broken, this lightness that he felt now was phenomenal.

It came from within him; he could feel now that his physique had grown far stronger than before, and he was healing far faster than before, the ailments which he felt and the weakness that was plaguing him from some time before, but he couldn’t understand the reason behind it.

Now that he could feel his physical strength returning gradually, and after breaking from the pressure, Jonan was easily adapting to the third step too, he felt that it might take some time to adapt to the third step, considering how it was affecting him in the bones too.

Jonan stood before the fourth step, staring up at it like a man about to crawl into his own grave.

He didn’t move, he didn’t even breathe right for a few seconds, the air here felt heavier than iron, thick and pressing against his lungs, and the pressure... it wasn’t like the third step, the third step was affecting his bones, but This felt like it would turn his organs upside down.

Even after feeling flustered, he lifted his foot and stepped right onto the fourth step.

The instant that he stepped on it, all of it came down onto the fourth step, it was as if an invisible hammer drove him to one knee, his thighs screamed, a tendon might have snapped, and his hand hit the cold stone to keep himself from pitching forward entirely, a heat surged behind his eyes, his ears roared, the edges of his vision dimmed like a dying flame, it was as if thing he could feel was to leave.

But Jonan stayed.

The pressure wasn’t just on his flesh, it was in his blood, his marrow, his thoughts, his pulse sounded like war drums inside his head, each beat a hammering blow against the cage of his skull; there was no clarity, no peace, only raw, animal pain.

He didn’t climb, he didn’t even try, he simply knelt there for what felt like hours, maybe days, time slipped in and out of sense, he existed inside that pressure, trying to map the shape of his agony, until even the pain dulled into a steady, grinding throb.

It wasn’t courage that kept him there, it was helplessness; he couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

Despite all this, he kept on persisting and was able to finally move slowly, little by little, after he felt that he could move more, he retreated with great difficulty, returned to his quarters to rest, and then came again to challenge the fourth step.

By the end of the first week, he managed to raise his head without vomiting blood; his breath still came ragged and shallow, but it came, he could feel the pressure’s weight on him like an ocean, but he endured it, letting it drive into every inch of his frame.

The second week was worse.

When he tried moving deeper along the fourth step’s platform, a new surge of pressure hit him like a falling star, his chest caved, blood started to burst from his lips in a wet, ragged cough, and he collapsed onto his side, his body was shuddering with each twitch.

He lay like that for days, no one came for him, no one would, the Starfall family didn’t coddle its hopefuls, you climbed until you broke, and if you didn’t crawl away before you died, you were left there to rot; that was the law.

Jonan’s mind frayed at the edges during those days, it’s been long since he could remember talking to anyone.

He saw things in the corners of his vision, faces of the dead, figures of his cohort, and his missing friends, his thoughts circled like birds around a simple, nagging question: Why am I doing this?

But he knew that deep down, he was not doing it for glory, nor for the family’s approval, it was for himself, for the boy who’d stood powerless before an abomination, and for the type of man he refused to become.

By the third week, the spasms stopped, his fingers, once twisted into claws against the stone, relaxed, his bones didn’t feel like splinters in his flesh anymore, he could barely move, and he could even stand, though every step felt like it ripped sinew from bone.

And on the final days of that fourth week, he could feel that he was now perfectly moving along the fourth step.

And next was the fifth step, but he didn’t move on.

The fifth step loomed ahead like a god, its aura so heavy it warped the air, made the world feel thinner, unreal. One glance at it told him everything: there was a vast, gaping abyss between where he stood and what lay beyond.

Not yet. He turned his back on it.

The descent felt like walking out of a storm. Every step downward was a release. The air grew lighter. His body was far stronger than before.

And yet, the unease in his chest gnawed at him, at the third step, he could feel something breaking inside him; he had to inquire about it.

He went straight to Master Vega.

The old man’s quarters were what they’d always been, plain, practical, lined with scrolls and battered training weapons. Vega sat cross-legged by a low brazier, the faint scent of old ash and burnt herbs in the air. His eyes cracked open as Jonan entered, sharp as a hawk’s.

"Hmm, you did well," Vega remarked, as though surprised.

After giving a slight bow, he asked, "Master, at the third step, I could feel something breaking inside me, it felt liberating, and my body feels light and tough, I also felt an increase in healing from my internal wounds, I need to know what’s happening to me."

Vega’s expression shifted; he motioned for Jonan to sit and extended two gnarled fingers to press against his wrist.

The old master’s face remained impassive at first, his gaze half-lidded as he felt the pulse, reading the flow of energy inside his body, the rhythm of Jonan’s heart.

Then, a flicker of surprise was present on his face.

He shifted his fingers, moved to the other wrist, and his brows furrowed.

"Speak," Vega said softly. "What happened on the third step?"

Jonan hesitated; it was difficult to explain, like describing a dream you weren’t sure you’d had.

"I felt... something snap," he said finally. "Not a bone. Not a tendon. Deeper. It was like something in me shattered, and after that, the pain didn’t stop, but I started healing faster. Got stronger. I could feel it."

Vega’s face darkened.

"You broke your physique attribute limit," he muttered.

Jonan blinked. "I... what?"

The old man’s voice was low. "Normally, the physique limit is like a ceiling on your body’s potential. Breaking it requires rare elixirs, which we have in large quantity, without them, the body tears itself apart under strain, but you forced it through sheer pressure, and without your knowledge, you succeeded in it. That’s admirable."

Jonan’s jaw tightened, and he thought, "I was planning to break my strength limit first. How did this happen? Well, it doesn’t change much."

Vega snorted, but there was no humor in it. "Don’t think much about it, this is the result of those who work hard in their goals, sometimes it takes time, and sometimes faster, either way, hard work does give results, and this is the result of your hard work."