The Primeval Era-Chapter 25: That Beat! I

In the shadows of the moving mountains, there grows a flower called the Cleftbloom.

It does not grow in soil. It grows in stone.

The seed falls into a crack no wider than a hair, and there it sits in darkness. It has no soil to nourish it. No water to sustain it. No light to guide it. Only cold, unyielding rock pressing against it from all sides.

And yet it grows.

It pushes against the stone, and the stone does not move. So it pushes again. And again. And again. For years, it pushes against something that will never willingly give way, its roots grinding forward by distances too small to measure.

The stone does not care. The stone does not notice. The stone simply is.

But the Cleftbloom continues.

And one morning, after years or decades of invisible struggle, a crack appears in the rock. Then another. Then the stone splits entirely, and the Cleftbloom emerges into sunlight, its petals the most vibrant purple found anywhere in the Lands of Stone.

The shamans say that when the ancestors wish to teach their children about persistence, they do not tell them stories of great Warriors or fallen empires. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

They show them the Cleftbloom.

Because the stone never chose to break. The stone never surrendered. The stone never acknowledged the flower’s effort or rewarded its determination.

The flower simply refused to accept that the stone was the end of its story.

Existence does not reward those who try. It simply cannot stop those who refuse to do anything else.

---

Okay.

So the plan itself was simple in nature.

Instead of drawing Mana in to bathe the flesh alone, let it flow into his bones, blood, marrow, and organs all at once.

A ridiculous thing, but he had the luxury to try it.

He got himself ready for what he expected were going to be horrendous injuries as he looked over to Uncle Adam and said:

"I might be injured or spit some blood here and there. Just do not worry about it."

He paused, meeting the old warrior’s concerned gaze.

"As you saw from before, I can come back from being injured to the point that I should be dead. It is part of my Land and Sky Physique, so..."

He felt bad lying to Uncle Adam about it.

But for now, until he understood more about the Primordial Tongue and what it truly was, he could only say this much. The knowledge felt dangerous, sacred, something that should not be spoken of carelessly even to those he trusted completely.

Uncle Adam simply nodded with a trusting gaze.

He knew his Young Lugal would be cultivating for the first time in forever.

Damian had been only ten summers old when they had to leave their home, fleeing through burning corridors and over bodies that had once been guards and servants and family. He was now in his eighteenth summer.

For eight summers they had been running.

For eight summers they had been hiding.

Uncle Adam wanted to hide no longer.

Damian saw the hardened gaze from Uncle Adam, the look of a soldier who had spent too long protecting a charge he could not help, who now saw the first glimmers of possibility after years of darkness.

He began.

The act of drawing in Mana was extremely easy for him as he had high Mana Sensitivity. This sensitivity seemed to have been even more amplified by the two times that he had utilized that glorious letter of the Primordial Tongue. Where others might struggle to sense the currents of power around them, Damian could perceive them as clearly as others might see sunlight.

He closed his eyes.

He felt the abundance of Mana all around him. He felt the Mana that was coursing over the stone beneath him, ancient power that had seeped into the rock over countless ages. He felt the Mana that was flowing through the trees all around him, drawn up through roots that reached deep into the mountain’s heart. He felt it in the tiny glimmering critters that crawled through the underbrush, each one a small vessel of the mountain’s gift.

Normally, one would take a controlled amount to begin flowing over their flesh, bathing it in Mana constantly and continuously as it strengthened and absorbed more and more. A careful process. A safe process. A process that took years to complete properly.

At this moment, Damian wanted to take in as much as he could.

Because he had a lot of places he wanted to bathe with Mana.

He knew that he could only utilize that letter a rare number of times until the invisible muscle recovered, so he wanted as much of himself to be exposed to Mana as possible before he was eventually forced to use that letter.

Before he was forced to Persevere.

So he breathed out and utilized his unique sensation of Mana to begin pulling in all that he could, with as much strength as he could muster.

The response was immediate.

Tendrils of blue Mana began to leak out from the surrounding atmosphere, visible even through his closed eyelids as brilliant streams of light. They emerged from the trees like luminescent serpents uncoiling from bark and branch. They rose from the stone he sat upon as if the very rock was exhaling power it had held for millennia. They swirled up from the glowing moss and the crystal-veined earth and the shimmering air itself.

Beautiful tendrils of fantastical brilliance, all converging around him faster and faster.

They came from above, filtering down through the canopy like rays of impossible sunlight. They came from below, rising through the rock as if drawn by his heartbeat. They came from all sides, a whirlpool of power with Damian at its center.

Uncle Adam was quickly alarmed.

He watched his Young Lugal drawing in more and more Mana without stopping. The swirls of blue tendrils coming toward him increased in density and number as if even this torrent was not enough for his purposes. The air itself began to shimmer and distort around the young man, the atmosphere bending slightly under the weight of so much concentrated power.

This was not normal cultivation!

He was alarmed, but he trusted the Young Lugal.

So he sat still, his weathered hands gripping his knees, his eyes never leaving the impossible sight before him.

As for Damian, it was extremely unique for him!

After years of moving with a husk of a body that had no Mana, he now felt like he was immersing himself within an ocean of power. He allowed it to flow over his flesh, and against all teachings, he also allowed it to flow into his bones.

Into his blood.

Into his marrow.

And even into every single organ.

Blue waves of Mana washed over him like rivers of incandescent and glorious energy, touching every part of his body simultaneously. It was overwhelming!

His flesh tingled as the Mana sank into muscle and skin, filling pathways that had been empty for so long. It felt like stepping into warm water after years of cold, like blood returning to a limb that had fallen asleep. The sensation spread across every inch of him, awakening nerves he had forgotten he possessed.

His bones hummed as the Mana penetrated deeper, seeping into the dense tissue that formed his skeleton. It felt like his bones were vibrating at a frequency just below hearing, resonating with power that wanted to be held, wanted to be stored, wanted to make him stronger than mere flesh could ever be.

His blood ignited as Mana merged with the crimson rivers flowing through his veins. Each heartbeat sent pulses of power racing through him, carrying energy to places that had never known it. He could feel his blood growing warmer, more vital, more alive than it had ever been.

His marrow stirred as Mana reached the deepest parts of his bones, touching the soft tissue where blood was born. Something fundamental shifted there, the first tremors of change that would eventually allow him to generate Mana rather than merely absorb it.

His organs awakened as Mana flooded into his heart, his lungs, his liver, his stomach, every vital part of him that the traditional Circles said should wait until the Fifth stage. They drank the power eagerly, as if they had been waiting for this moment their entire existence!

He felt like he was infusing himself with waves and waves of power.

And at this moment, what he began to feel was a heavy beat of his heart.

DUM!

DUM!

DUM!

That beat.

That Beat!