The Primeval Era-Chapter 32: Listen To The Wisewoman I

POP!

The last pop echoed out as the misty blue Mana in the surroundings began to thin, but what a glorious product came out of all of this.

As the blue mist dissipated, the animals and Primal Beasts that had gathered blinked as if they had left some sort of trance. The Stoneback Lizard shook its rocky head once, twice, then turned and lumbered back into the underbrush. The Mist Hares scattered in every direction, their translucent forms vanishing into the foliage. The Crystal Beetles dispersed in shimmering waves, returning to whatever hidden places they called home.

The Ridge Stalker rose from its seated position, cast one final glance toward the clearing, and disappeared up the slope with the silent grace of a born predator. The Violet Serpent uncoiled from its branch and slithered away, its venomous scales catching the fading light one last time.

One by one, they departed.

The sacred moment had passed, and they returned to being what they had always been.

Beasts of the mountain.

Nothing more.

Damian looked over to Uncle Adam, who remained in that unique state of transformation. The old warrior stood frozen in the aftermath of his breakthrough, Mana crackling across his body in patterns that were visibly denser and more complex than before.

Damian also breathed out and checked himself.

He closed his eyes to feel the flow of Mana within him. While Uncle Adam had been blessed to return to the Second Circle, Damian had also absorbed that same misty blue Mana of the Ancestral Veil.

If not even more.

Due to its purity, he did not feel a strain on any of the systems that he had bathed with Mana. The Ancestral Veil was gentle where raw Mana was violent, nourishing where forced absorption was destructive.

So he had benefited without any of the risks that he took initially.

At this time, he could visibly feel at least three times the Mana that had saturated his systems before. His flesh hummed with it. His bones resonated with it. His blood carried it smoothly through every vessel. His marrow stirred with increasing purpose. His organs pulsed with synchronized rhythm.

He felt like in a little while, he would also hear his bones begin to pop.

And it was still a ridiculous reality that he already had Mana permeating through his blood and marrow and multiple organs. Once they reached a certain threshold, he would truly begin to display the terrifying benefits that Warriors of higher Circles held.

Even though right now, he was only displaying a minuscule fraction of this potential.

And yet this minuscule fraction was enough for him to stand toe to toe with a Warrior like Uncle Adam without utilizing a weapon. Not once did he feel like he came across any danger during their entire dance.

That was how terrifying his pathway of cultivation was.

That was how glorious Vakochev’s Doctrines of Stone were!

Well, he had only just begun designing its first stage. There was still much to be done, many refinements to make, many aspects to understand and codify.

But the foundation was laid.

"Old man, are you still with us?"

Damian smiled as he spoke.

"Or have you gone to meet the Ancestors early?"

Uncle Adam opened his eyes in the next moment.

Mana crackled over his body as a few more pops echoed out in the surroundings, causing any remaining animals to scatter away in alarm. The sound of bones settling into their new, reinforced state carried through the clearing like small thunderclaps.

His gaze was bright and filled with possibility as he looked at Damian.

"I thank the Young Lugal for the spar."

His voice was thick with emotion.

"It was astonishing enough to allow me to find my purpose again and reclaim my old power, however small it currently is."

...!

His words were heavy.

Damian looked over and sensed the explosive power radiating all around Uncle Adam. The old warrior felt different now. Denser. More grounded. His presence carried the weight of bones that had been tempered by Mana and would not break under ordinary force.

Damian nodded back with a smile.

"We are only just getting things started. Come on, we have been up here long enough, and nighttime is nearing."

He glanced toward the sky, where the first hints of purple dusk were beginning to color the clouds.

"As confident as my body is telling me to be, one should not climb mountains at night."

...!

Yes.

The mountains across the Lands of Stone were many, but everyone knew to go up the mountains to forage or hunt during the day.

Those who decided to go up at night were those who were never heard from again.

Sacrifices and offerings to the Ancestors is all they became.

The Primal Beasts that descended from the peaks under cover of darkness were not the docile creatures of the lower slopes. They were hunters who had learned that night was their domain, predators whose eyes could see in darkness and whose hunger knew no mercy.

Uncle Adam nodded as the two of them began to head down the mountain.

They were greatly changed compared to how they had been when they went up.

Damian had begun his own path of cultivation.

Uncle Adam had returned to the Second Circle.

Both had been bathed in the Ancestral Veil and emerged stronger for it.

It only further cemented how wondrous mountains were in the Lands of Stone. How they held danger and opportunity in equal measure, offering both to those brave or foolish enough to climb their slopes.

---

As they neared the fields of the tribe, one could see many people packing up and moving about, finishing their work for the day.

The Tribesmen had already planted whatever they wanted on top of the fields that held corpses below. The freshly turned earth was dark and rich, soon to be even richer as the bodies of the fallen seeped their Mana into the soil. By tomorrow, the first shoots would already be emerging. By the day after, they would be ready to harvest.

Such was the blessing of living near a moving mountain.

Such was the cost of surviving in the Lands of Stone.

Damian watched all of this as he and Uncle Adam returned toward the tribe. The familiar huts rose before them, smoke curling from cooking fires as families prepared their evening meals. Children who had been kept inside during the battle were now running about again, their resilience a testament to how quickly life moved on in these lands.

Halfway through the village, a gnarled stone stick with rings blocked his way.

He blinked and looked at Grandmother Essun!