Syrril must have seen what I felt, because what followed was nothing short of brutal, relentless training that stretched so late into the night that even the most dedicated of our peanut gallery had left hours ago.

  Amber lights glowed within the arena, and we had the place to ourselves as Syrril attacked me over and over, forcing me to defend with magic, skill, and my new soul weight.

  I always lost, even with my upgrade, though I didn’t always black out anymore. When I didn’t, he gave me barely thirty seconds to recover before coming at me again.

  As a result of that pain, exertion, and hardship and my undersuit’s 5% boost, Order had rocketed from 126 to 161, further strengthening that feeling of solidity I felt.

  I only wished it did more to help me in combat, though. Not immediately blacking out seemed to be the limit of its effect for now.

  If there was a silver lining here, it was that Aerion was spared this treatment. After seeing my sudden improvement, Syrril only had eyes for me.

  The battlemaster came at me like an elf possessed, and so I offloaded the task of finding a handful of [Rare] rings to Aerion before the markets closed for the day.

  While Aerion couldn’t determine System rarities like I could, quality and material were pretty good indicators, and I’d asked her to find rings that were at least partly Mythril.

  To say Mythril—even partial Mythril—wasn’t cheap would be an understatement, so I was glad the elves were happy to accept the same currency as the rest of Dominion. While the rings hadn’t exactly bankrupted us, there was no way I could’ve afforded them without the currency Aerion and I had earned during our exploits in Basecrest.

  As for why I wanted those rings so badly? Well, balancing my build wasn’t a priority—the opposite, rather—but that didn’t mean I couldn’t pick up some free stats from all the training I was undergoing as well.

  As it stood, Order was the only stat whose ceiling was currently greater than the amount I’d earned. After merging and redistributing all my rare undergarments into the suit, all my other stats had hit their caps, stopping any growth in those areas.

  I hated that feeling of missing out, but thankfully, three [Rare] rings did the trick, with my newfound discovery of directing the Initialization to a degree helping greatly. While none gave me any abilities, they did at least put the bulk of their stats into the slots I’d hoped for.

  Furthermore, since each ring was identical, they all granted me the exact same bonuses and cost the same.

  Mythril-Plated Ring [Rare]

  A ring for not-quite-rich people who want to tell the world they’re almost rich. It reeks of vanity.

  Essence Cost: 34

  Condition: 100/100

  Stats:

  — Vigor: 21

  — Grace: 57

  — Cunning: 44

  — Dominion: 32

  Abilities: None

  Multiplied by three, which meant I had plenty of headroom in all areas other than Wisdom and Passion. Passion was a low priority, and Wisdom would get its limelight later.

  As such, I was no longer crippled when dueling Syrril. The issue was that it hardly mattered, since he came at me with a relentless fury I’d never seen before, packing more and more power into his punches with every bout. The duel after receiving the rings went well, but the one after that was the worst of them all.

  Despite this, our battles lasted longer and longer. My Order stat continued to climb, with it sometimes gaining multiple levels when hit with that immense metaphysical weight.

  It was undeniable at this point—I could now withstand any one of his blows without immediately blacking out. It shook me to my core, sure, and the second generally did me in, but instead of our fights lasting seconds, they now lasted tens. All without relying on Aerion and [Reave]. I even managed to go on the offensive sometimes. Not that it did much good with Syrril’s insane defense.

  The hours bled into one another until we finally lasted a whole minute against him. By the time Syrril called an end to the night, Order had gone up another 31 points, ending the day at an incredible 192.

  In just one day, it had gone from my lowest stat to my highest. Meanwhile, Vigor had gained 10, bringing it to 76, while Grace had jumped 21 to 121. My new limit was 245, so if my theory was correct, that difference helped explain the jump. Lastly, Cunning had gained 5 to 34, while Dominion had only gone up 2 points to 74. I’d barely had any chance to counterattack, so that made sense, even if it was a little disappointing.

  “Unbelievable,” Syrril said, mirroring my own feelings on the matter. He stared at me with a mix of shock and awe and even a little fear. “What are you?”

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  I frowned, trying to think of how to dodge that question.

  “No need to answer,” Syrril said, raising his palms. “Everyone has their secrets. I was the one who pushed myself onto you as your instructor, not the other way.”

  I nodded slowly.

  “I’ll admit I’m more than a little curious what Blessings you have that allow you to progress in a few hours what takes most people years. Even so, I am pleased I was able to train someone like you.”

  “So,” I asked, coughing awkwardly. “What’s next? I assume we keep up the meditation and fighting routine?”

  “Yes,” Syrril said. “And no.”

  The battlemaster looked off into the distance, as though he was peering through the walls to gaze upon some distant land.

  "Your growth... I would have called it impossible had I not seen it with my own eyes. Yet like all things, it will slow, and then it will stop. As you reach the barrier to Convergence rank, no amount of meditation or dueling will allow you to break through."

  I frowned. “What will, then?”

  “There is a place, deep within this forest. A place few of us ever venture to. A Trial, though not like most others. An ancient one. Built for one specific purpose.”

  “Convergence ascension?” I said, guessing where this was going.

  Syrril nodded. “It is a dangerous place. Should you succeed, however, you will return stronger than you could possibly imagine. It is not merely a question of strength. It is a question of potency. And the caliber of one’s Blessing.

  “For no reason we’ve been able to determine, some Blessings simply cannot advance past a certain rank, no matter the effort or age of the wielder. More exotic Blessings tend to have higher limits, though less is known about them as well.”

  “You’re saying there’s a list somewhere of the highest rank various Blessings can achieve?” I asked.

  I’d made the connection between Blessing rarity tier and max rank early on, but I had the unfair advantage of getting to see the Blessings categorized by rarity.

  That wasn’t a thing anyone in this world got to see. I’d just assumed they did at the time, but I now realized Cosmo had given me some really valuable intel back then.

  "To undertake the Trial with a Blessing that cannot reach Convergence is to die," Syrril said, his voice low.

  I shrugged. “What’s new?”

  “I understand why you’d wish to keep your Blessings to yourself, and considering your astonishing growth, I doubt you will run into this issue. However…”

  “I get what you’re trying to say, Syrril,” I replied. “And I thank you for your concern. Truly. However, I can assure you that this won’t be a concern. For either of us,” I added, looking at Aerion, who nodded.

  Being both a Champion and the bearer of an epic class, I had nothing to worry about. At least, not for this rank up, anyway. If Common Blessings, like Common abilities, were stuck at Foundation, then Uncommons could reach Emergence, Rares Divergence, and Epics Convergence.

  I hoped that wasn’t my limit, but I doubted it would be. The Blessing mentioned the possibility of evolution, after all. It was one of the reasons I picked it over something more basic. Only question was—what would it evolve into? And would my powers shift? Or would it strengthen them?

  This did bring up something I hadn’t thought about, though. Did the other Champions all have classes that could evolve as well? And if so, what penalties had they—or rather their deities—picked?

  That was something I’d often pondered. Richard’s was obvious—the guy was a weakling, and I suspected he’d always be a glass cannon. Quite the penalty in a world where strong monsters could kill you in seconds. I’d passed on Blessings like that for this exact reason.

  As for Eskil, I couldn’t begin to guess. Intelligence, maybe? But the guy was more cunning than he let on.

  Regardless, failing to rank up wasn’t a concern for either Aerion or myself.

  “I’m guessing there’s something you’re not telling me,” I said, seeing the battlemaster’s conflicted expression.

  “Indeed. Taking the Trial is one thing. But getting there is another entirely.”

  I had a bad feeling about what he was about to say, and as usual, my hunch was proved correct.

  “The Trial of Ascension,” Syrril said, “is located in the part of the forest controlled by the Sylvan Reavers.”

  Aerion and I walked in silence for a while after leaving the arena for the night. She stared off into the distance while I perused my stat gains like golden eggs.

  Ecstatic didn’t even begin to describe my feelings, but things weren’t all well and good in stat land. For one, I’d need better Grace armor soon. I’d outgrown [Common] items long ago and was quickly reaching the limit of what [Uncommon] stuff did for me. The 51 points of Grace given to me by my Basecrest Armor suit suddenly looked a lot less impressive than they had when I first obtained it.

  I had some ideas about where to get my hands on a better set, and like other gear, I could Uninitialize Armor Sets upon leveling up, which would free up that armor slot and allow me to Initialize a new one.

  And while Elven baubles and silks were well and good, it was their Mythril armor and weaponry that were to die for.

  The only question was how much it would cost and how we’d convince the Sylrithar to sell a full set of armor or two to a couple of strangers.

  Two, because while an upgraded Grace Set was great, I had my eyes on a tanky Vigor build as well, and the thought of rushing into battle with custom-made heavy Elven armor made my inner child squeal more than it ought to have.

  Those were problems for later, though.

  The intense training Syrril subjected us to had drained even our vast Vigor reserves, and it took everything I had to stay awake as we walked back to our luxurious bungalow, taking care not to trip on a root or fall off the bough.

  “What rank do you think he is?” Aerion asked suddenly.

  “Hell if I know,” I replied. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been hiding his true power all along. But if I had to guess,” I said, seeing Aerion’s unsatisfied frown, “I’d say Convergence. Somewhere in the Convergence range. Wouldn’t surprise me one bit if that old guy had more than one Blessing at that rank, too.”

  Aerion nodded. “I can believe it,” she said. “He seems to know so much about the process of ascension and soul aura. I’d never even heard about the soul before.”

  “I think that’s the case for most people,” I said. “Those who do achieve it probably keep it close to their hearts. Not exactly the sort of thing you tell strangers for free. Or, at all.”

  We took a detour through the canopy before returning to our place.

  “Hey, Greg?” Aerion said, looking up at the starry sky, “do you, um, do you mind if we walk a little?”

  I was dead on my feet and was about to reply as such, but then I noticed the strained expression on her face. One that said this wasn’t some idle fancy.

  “I’d be happy to,” I said, lacing my fingers into hers. “Princess.”

  Her blush made my fatigue feel like nothing more than a distant dream.