Three months later…

  Seated in the lotus position, Tyr breathed in and out.

  Separate parts of his mind focused intently upon separate parts of his body: the flow of air through his lungs as they expanded and deflated, the subtle tension in his muscles no matter how much he tried to relax, the trickle of internal mana cycling throughout his spiritual channels, the aroma of his family garden, the tactile rigidity of his meditation mat.

  This way, he glimpsed the true nature of his soul as a nexus of the Physical, The Mental, and the Magical aspects of reality.

  Splitting his attention more than five ways proved to be a migraine-inducing issue. And this was merely passive observation of different stimuli. At least the stress had led to excellent gains for [Split Focus]. Now that it had finally reached Level 58, Mother had relented in her refusal to teach him.

  It was time to learn how to heal himself with Life mana.

  Mother was an absolute drill sergeant when it came to the topic of the Sacred Arts. While teaching him vocal exercises for his [Singing] or awkward [Dancing] movements, she was all bubbly charisma. As Tyr meditated, she loomed over him like GranGran when she went apocalyptic mode. He could somehow feel the intensity of her stare even with his eyes closed.

  “Narrow your focus to only your internal senses,” Mother said in a tone like she was pronouncing his death.

  Tyr complied without a hint of hesitation, erasing the scent of the garden and the feeling of the meditation mat. The uncomfortable pressure of his mental energy draining away relaxed to a dull annoyance. In return, he experienced about a 20% improvement to his internal concentration.

  When he had first experienced this, he assumed it was some quirk of [Split Focus] that allowed him sacrifice separate threads of thought in order to hone in on the others. But that didn’t really make sense. The evolution allowed him to apply his attention to multiple threads of thought simultaneously, but nothing he had read or experienced indicated that pruning thought processes led to a qualitative improvement. And it only worked in one direction, after relaxing from a state of heightened exertion.

  He’d eventually solved the enigma after [Mana Manipulation] reached Level 35. The improvement had allowed him to barely sense the true culprit behind his enhancement: near-invisible strands of Mind mana trickling from his Core and into the cluster of channels within his head.

  A few different experiments had revealed it was a subconscious response to stress. His lessons with Leon had somewhat helped his Mind mana become more responsive, in the sense it went from ignoring his directions to occasionally twitching in annoyance. On the other hand, the passive benefits, such as the enhancement while stressed, were beginning to literally trickle in.

  Tyr sacrificed the rogue part of his mind monologuing about this metacognitive process and experienced another slight bump to his concentration.

  “Now focus on the relationship between the Physical and the Magical,” said Mother. “Your spiritual channels and how they intersect with your organic Constitution. This is the path that you use to integrate your Life mana with your body. Begin to cycle only Life.”

  Tyr reined in his subconscious cycling. His trickle of Mind mana was particularly stubborn to his efforts, but after a few minutes, the stress response faded away. Though it may have proven helpful if he allowed it to continue, it was difficult to speak up against his Mother’s stern commands. She had said only Life mana, and she always chose her words with specific intent.

  Once he reached the desired outcome, with only red Mana circulating throughout his channels, Mother spoke up again. “Undirected self-healing relies on leaking Life mana into your body in order to restore it to its optimal state. Basically a boost to your natural regeneration. In the beginning, this can be very troublesome, until your Life mana becomes better attuned to your Physical form. Hence why you should only do this under my supervision until I tell you otherwise.”

  Tyr gulped and nodded. Her speech was delivered like a eulogy over his grave. He’d already heard it about ten times, but if she was repeating herself ad infinitum, there was a good reason.

  “I see you’ve been practicing your swordplay with Caeden and Garrett this morning, based on all of the microtears within your body.” A hint of a smile crept into Mother’s tone. “As a D-Grade Human, you have no simple physical abnormalities or defects for Life Mana to heal. Also, I may have superenhanced your immune system when you were a baby. So, for this first lesson, merely focus on your natural regeneration.”

  While her instructions were vague, Mother was very aware of his obsession with reading. Most of the time Tyr had his Endless Notebook in hand, part of his mind devoted to analyzing the text of the day. This particular habit had been banned at the dinner table and during his tutoring lessons, but that still left plenty of time to research his subjects of interest. The restriction was a bit irritating, especially since he was certain that Leon was constantly doing at least a dozen different things at once with his Crystal spectacles.

  Tyr had already perused most of the available beginner texts on undirected healing in preparation for this lesson. One could never be too prepared. Most of the reading material had been hands-on instruction manuals with various exercises he was forbidden from indulging in, but he had memorized enough of the basics to make do.

  Basically, Mother was present to make sure he didn’t start growing a hand out of his nostril or leaking pus from his eyes. After all the gory illustrations contained within some of the books, his mind had been opened to the vast and horrifying potential to turn himself into a shambling abomination. Fleshcrafters and biomancers apparently chose to do that sometimes for whatever twisted reason, but those people must have had Charisma as a dump stat. Defiling his natural beauty seemed like an unforgivable sin to Tyr.

  Whatever. It’s not like I’m your typical student. I just respect Mother too much to go against her wishes about practicing alone.

  Establishing the connection between his physical body and spiritual channels was a bit tricky. Bridging the gap was like awakening a new sense within himself. Fortunately, he had spent much of his recent meditation time attempting to solidify that merged sensation.

  It reminded him of the gym phase he had for a few years in his previous life. At first, he had just gone through the motions, but eventually he had developed a mind-muscle connection that allowed him to feel the internal mechanisms behind each exercise. Fortunately, in this life, the mind-muscle-magic connection came much easier.

  Slowly, with complete and utter control, Tyr began to leak Life mana out of his channels. He offered only a single suggestion: repair my stressed muscle tissue.

  Motes of crimson mana began to suffuse his body. His Core wasn’t advanced enough to produce a huge amount of Life on command, but speeding up a natural process didn’t require much. The less energy he invested, the less likely he was to experience an unwanted side effect.

  Easy.

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  After a few seconds, an uncomfortable pressure seeped into Tyr’s gums. The spine-tingling sensation of larger, adult teeth attempting to sprout from beneath his baby set made him feel sick to his stomach. Before the pain escalated into something more than a warning, Mother snapped her fingers, and his Life mana retreated back into his channels. The extra set of teeth vanished.

  “Alright, let’s try that again, sweetie,” Mother said in a comforting tone.

  Did she just reset my internal mana back into my channels? Uh…

  Tyr had always known his parents were relatively big deals, even if Savra had a teeming pantheon of god-like entities they seemed to not quite match up to. Tyr had intentionally never looked much into their publicly-available biographies, especially after seeing a few unflattering mentions of Leon here and there. Though they were brief asides, most of them seemed to characterize him as some sort of obnoxious trickster. And while this was admittedly quite accurate, no one wants to see strangers badmouth one of their parents.

  Still, Mother being able to reach into his body without explicit consent and control his own mana felt…invasive. Wrong. But he supposed that was the dark side of Life healing. It was the magical equivalent of medicine and surgery, and both of those were external forces meant to reshape one’s body into a desired state.

  He would just have to get used to it.

  Mother was certainly aware of this. Probably why she was changing her tone to be more comforting. Despite the warnings that his first attempt to self-heal may be traumatic, he had brushed them aside with the confident immortality of his underdeveloped prefrontal cortex.

  Pushing manfully through his doubts and concerns, Tyr leaked his Life mana into his body once more. His vision distorted and blurred as a few tiny eyes appeared along his forehead and somehow connected to his brain’s visual processing center.

  How does that even happen? Is this somehow easier than just repairing my muscles? Goodness gracious.

  Mana Manipulation (Uncommon) 35 > 36.

  Mother reset his Life mana and erased the extra eyes. “Okay, let’s try that one more time!”

  At least the gains are pretty good…and once I master this, I’ll be able to heal Caeden so that he can train longer. It’s like a Tonic of Minor Rejuvenation on demand. We’re getting closer to crunch time, so we need to double the effort. That means I need to keep up as well.

  Oh goodness, that wasn’t right either. Now I’m covered in hair like a little golden monkey. This is going to be a rough one, isn’t it?

  ***

  For once, Tyr was grateful for his nightly Mind session with Father. While he hadn’t turned himself into an abomination under Mother’s watchful eye, he had experienced a few novel sensations he had no desire to ever repeat. The allure and mystique of being the good doctor died as he began to truly understand how gross the human body was.

  After that session, even his normal physical state felt weird and dirty. He had never been so consciously aware that he was a bunch of viscera layered upon a skeleton.

  Father, perhaps sensing or anticipating Tyr’s withdrawn mood, had returned to one of their classic sessions. Absurd, discordant tunes spilled from his lute as Tyr attempted to reinforce his [Mind Palace].

  Over the past few months, the Mind-lacquered Hut had seen some expansion. A second room had budded off of it like a tumorous growth—Tyr shook his head, trying to get the anatomy imagery out of his mind. The new addition was more like a random little cupboard. But it was something. The Hut also emitted a sense of sturdiness and resilience, with new layers of clear Mind mana painted over it. No longer did it seem like it would collapse from a sudden breeze; Tyr giving it a good shove would probably still do the trick, however.

  Within his mind’s eye, Tyr walked through the opening of the Hut. It was empty, hollow, nothing more than reinforced wooden walls at an angle.

  “Now, Tyr,” Father said over his own loud, chaotic song, “there are a few different uses for [Mind Palace]. The way you choose to shape it will influence your future upgrade choices once it hits Level 50. Regardless, the primary function of the Skill is for memory storage. You place some representative object within your Palace, then when you interact with it, you relive that memory.”

  Tyr was quite aware of all of this, but Father’s voice was hypnotic, soothing. Possibly some Charisma Skill meant to put Tyr at ease. After the invasiveness of his Life session, having his emotions altered chafed a bit, but he shoved that childish notion away. Was it manipulative for a parent to sing their child a lullaby to put them at ease? Was it different to do it with magic, or a Skill, rather than one’s natural voice?

  “Yes, Father,” Tyr responded dutifully.

  “While it’s a bit of a superstition, the first object-memory you choose to create is thought to have symbolic meaning for your future. I trust you’ll choose something appropriate.”

  Tyr had been prepared for this, but now that the moment was at hand, all of his prior considerations seemed unworthy. It wasn't truly some life-altering oath or promise, but there was a feeling of ritual significance behind the action. As an atheist back on Earth, the notion of some sort of sacred rite had been strange to him. In a world with literal Holy energy, where will and intent could reshape reality, the idea held a lot more metaphysical weight.

  For what seemed like an eternity, Tyr sat there, replaying moments from his past couple lives in his head. His hollow accomplishments, his insignificant triumphs. What did he want to define him? The first time he laid eyes on Valorwood and truly sensed how strange and beautiful his new world was? The first time he manipulated freeform magic? His victory over the Mimic within the Dream Realm?

  As Tyr considered his possibilities, Leon strummed at the lute, the melody half-pleasant.

  In the end, he settled on one vague, distant memory. One where everyone involved had died years ago—or perhaps longer, depending on if there was some sort of objective chronological gap before he was reborn in this new universe. It was a simple, comforting memory from his childhood as James. He wasn’t sure what grade he had been in, but it must have been some time in middle school. Even if it had been an event of no cosmic significance, it had meant a lot to him at the time, and shaped the rest of his life back on Earth.

  Coming home after a victory march from school, report card clenched in hand. Handing it over to his expectant parents. The pure, unabashed joy on their face when they saw his straight A’s. Making his parents proud, as well as achieving excellence in a pursuit he had dedicated all of his mind to.

  A sudden fatigue washed over Tyr as his mental energy was sapped away. The clear mantle around his Core stirred, then began to stream up into his mental channels.

  An object appeared on the floor of the Hut: a white paper rectangle listing subjects next to a blocky, red A+. Not an exact replica of his actual report card, but a bit of a caricaturized version. Within it was his pride, and the pride of his parents back on Earth. Cameron and Lily Mclean.

  Mana Manipulation (Uncommon) 36 > 37.

  Mind Palace (Rare) 14 > 18.

  Tyr opened his eyes, smiling. His eyes and shoulders drooped from the exhaustion, but he’d made significant strides today. Even if it had been grueling and intense, he had proven that he could accomplish his goals. At least, with a lot of support from those who loved him.

  “You know, Father,” said Tyr.

  Father’s eyes twinkled, as they often did when Tyr referred to him that way, instead of as Leon.

  Tyr continued, “You’re pretty good with the lute. We should form a band.”

  The random suggestion completely caught Father off guard. He looked down at the lute in his arms, back at Tyr, and shrugged. “Alright. I should probably wear a disguise, then, so people don’t feel obligated to clap because I’m the Lord of Valorwood. If you suck, you should know it. That way, it’s a lot more satisfying when the haters clap.”

  It was Tyr’s turn to be a bit surprised. Father was a fairly important figure, even if he claimed to be half-retired. Taking his time to teach Tyr Mind magic seemed like a reasonable enough commitment. Producing music with a toddler in his spare time on top of that was on another level.

  “Don’t you have better things to do with your time?”

  “Bonding with my son is at least top five in my list of priorities.” Leon strummed the lute and hummed to himself for a few seconds as he thought. “You’re our first kid, so we aren’t going to be perfect parents. But we can make an effort. Your mom can't join, though. We’d get absolutely no attention in comparison.”

  Tyr stood up and hugged his Father. “You’re so right. I’m no one’s backup singer.”