"How strong is your body, brother?" Osias simply asked. If Kiran wasn't going to tell him, he wouldn't push for it. Though… it didn't seem like it was such a secret.
"On par with most Third Ordeal beasts," Kiran responded indifferently.
"I-I see," Osias replied, half surprised and half intrigued.
"Do you need another lesson as to why?" Kiran said, noticing the hint of confusion in Osias's tone.
"A little."
Kiran huffed and sighed before explaining as they marched slowly:
"All human Path Finders are roughly the same physically — though there are a few outliers. The most overarching reason for this is because of essence reservoirs. Not their Paths, essence itself, or any other reason. This holds holds true even in the later Ordeals."
"The more essence in one's reservoirs, the more the body is strengthened as a result. If we ever enter the inlands or encounter people rather than live our lives in the Outer Valleys, you will find their standards and measures confusing. Especially since you never ventured out the Great Mountain."
That was right, Osias still lacked a lot of knowledge that the other youth of the Band were privy to upon their travels and raids against the Tailed Brothers.
"Everywhere else measures it from about the average physical strength of Path Finders of the same level. But the Red Sky measures it from what was regularly seen amongst Path Beasts of the same level. That is only because of how ridiculous the strength is of the elders of the band who lavishly enjoyed several lifetimes worth of their bodies being seeped in potent essence, constantly breaking and reforming their reservoir limits."
"Which do you prefer?" Kiran then asked.
Osias thought as they marched. It was still a little confusing how they measured the strength of physical strength of beasts, it felt… fickle.
"I think… I think the people outside of the band make it easier. At least for me." He then responded meekly.
But his hesitation turned out to be pointless:
"Good. It wasnt made with the youth or those at the lower Ordeals in mind."
"They assumed that all beasts originated from the same kind. That battle strength meant the same as physical strength. As if all Path Beasts came from… boars or the like. What of birds? Small rodents? They were all overpowered by humans as Ordinarys. Their methods only made sense upon the later Ordeals, not for Ordinarys like yourself."
Osias listened intently, he always assumed that his nescient was because he spent most of his time under the chambers with Garm, but it seemed a lot of the knowledge was flawed regardless. Though… it did make him wonder how Kiran knew or came upon this.
"Now, because all Path Beasts vary greatly, much more than humans in their Ordinary forms, their essence strengthens their body relative to what strength it was. A rodent that happens to have the same sized reservoir as a boar will not have the same physical strength. Remember — physical strength, not how strong they are in battle. Weak First Ordeal Path Beasts may be more durable than a more dangerous First Ordeal Path Beast, although such cases are extremely rare."
Osias agreed. He recalled the Third Ordeal beetle of the mist, the massive Ashen Worm, and the Second Ordeal hounds atop the mountain. Regardless of their battle strength relative to their Ordeal level, they were all beings who seemed hard to kill.
"Path Beasts as they progress all become resilient, tough, heavy, and strong. Eventually, no matter what beast they have originated from, a base or minimal strength of these beasts becomes apparent. That was why the Red Sky measured off Path Beasts, it was easier later. Think of the beast you called the Ashen Maggot."
The Ashen Maggot… rugged stony surface covered its vast body, its size alone could probably wrap around a fortress depending on how much of its length was burrowed below its tower. Such a creature was the furthest thing from weak. But… if it had truly originated from a maggot, then Ordinary humans could've stomped the thing to death before it underwent its Ordeals. Size and its physical might simply came along as it progressed.
Then Kiran continued:
"Compared to other Ordinarys humans… you are about three times stronger. This will carry on as you proceed into the First Ordeal when the time comes. That's because the reservoir isn't increased through Ordeals, but the essence itself is refined. It can be said it becomes denser, concentrated if that's easier."
That… made things easier to understand. Osias recalled his brutish wrestle with the boar as he stepped foot onto the mountain of hounds. He wasn't entirely overpowered by it, but he held his own. That was about three Ordinary men's strength.
'Three times…'
Osias deduced that about every five years was sufficient to multiply his base strength… if he counted the time he reaved essence within his mother's womb. But this rise was only possible due to his constant supply of blood essence, even before the tattoos.
"But the reservoir's limit can be destroyed and reformed minutely faster from this refined essence — another reason why you shouldn't linger too long as an Ordinary together with the longer lifespan. Though you mustn't foolishly belittle Ordeals."
Osias quickly thought of what Kiran mentioned earlier — of the elders. Their physical might alone was monstrous. Given how old they were… it made sense that eventually such things blended and were called battle strength for ease. Such great physical strength aided in how strong they were within their level, the range was simply too large to think of.
Together with a myriad of other factors like essence techniques, build, Ordeal Abilities, sword techniques or weapon arts, equipment…
"Were the elders all of the upper limit in battle strength, brother?" Osias suddenly asked.
"Aye, for some… even greater. This was the reason why our Red Sky was able to rival the Tailed Brothers for so long despite them possessing more true Fourth Ordeals than us."
"A large reason for their battle strength being of the upper limit was because of their physical might. That is guaranteed among those of the Blood Path if they live long enough and have reaved enough. All of them were many times physically stronger than other Third Ordeals — even someone like Zevir, our once all-seeing elder. Most could match Fourth Ordeal Path Beasts in purely physical strength, much less humans. "
"Though not all their years were spent indulging in enough blood essence to push their reservoir's limits, Garm as well… much of their youth was before the blood-born flourished to what it was before the fall of the band."
But Kiran paused a bit before he slowed his pace and added:
"Also… congratulations, Osias, on the new moon. Fourteen Moons. It is about that time."
Osias nodded and quietly thanked Kiran. It was odd, ever since Kiran entered the mist, maybe even before that, he was more detached and cold. But Kiran remembered, after all, and that was worthy of praise.
Fourteen Moons… he himself knew it was almost that time, but hearing Kiran mention it was enough to be true.
Soon. Soon enough he'll undergo his First Ordeal. Perhaps even cut down his brother, he thought as he silently laughed to himself.
Lifting his gaze, Osias sighed deeply as he digested the information he obtained. Truly, Kiran possessed an entire wealth of knowledge beyond his years.
Battle strength.
If a War Art was the complete weave and blend of everything that made him strong, then battle strength was the measure of his War Art.
Thinking back to the battle against the swarm of underwood, the soldiers possessed no Ordeal Abilities, they were nothing but the creations of the main body.
All they had were their physical strength and hardiness befitting the middle tier of First Ordeal beasts. But they moved mindlessly, puppets of wood, entirely relying on spreading the corrupted spores into their flesh. Their battle strength was just that.
Techniques, equipment, skill, and his mind. That was what he used to slaughter them, closing the gap.
Osias fought like a human, not like an animal. Physical strength alone was something that aided him, just one large facet of his battle strength. Something that he'll use to his full advantage as someone of the Path of Blood…
—
In the end, they only came upon a single creature of the mist that day. But it was already dead, nothing more than a rotting carcass that looked like a stalwart and curved boulder. Massive as it was, they didn't think it was a Path Beast at first, but upon Kiran's climb atop the round rugged grey body, he found a faced that was as large as himself.
However, other than that encounter, the day was idle as they marched undisturbed. Was it their luck, or were they walking toward the ends of a creature that no other dared to come close to?
But that dark thought was only his fear speaking. No matter how long they walked, nothing approached.
Tens of kilometers passed and left behind just like that. Yet the mist never waned, even impossibly darkening once again as night arrived.
Fortunately, they came upon a clearing beneath a small stone overhang before Osias turned completely blind in the blackened mist.
…Osias wistfully stared into the dying embers of their small fire smoldering, the smoke joining the all-encompassing mist around them. As if the mist devoured everything within its embrace, perhaps even Osias himself if he stayed long enough.
Earlier, Kiran cut a piece of the boulder-like corpse to cook. It was disgustingly tough though. On the verge of rot as it lay spoiled in a valley of mist. Whatever killed it had done the deed long ago.
But it was enough to sate his hunger, Osias couldn't complain about a fill of meat already sitting in his stomach.
Even when the smoke died out he continued to stare vacantly. He didn't feel in the mood to sleep tonight. Perhaps because today wasn't as stressful as the last. A lingering sense of expectancy if you will.
With a sigh, Osias finally shifted his long gaze to Kiran.
Kiran was currently resting against the steep wall of stone, eyes closed with his crimson spear leaning against his shoulder.
'Resting?' Osias wondered.
With closed eyes and a neutral face, Kiran still seemed… alert. As though if Osias so willed his arm to lift his sword in Kiran's direction, he'd know.
More than simply know — Kiran would probably taunt him about it as well and then drive the butt of his spear deep into Osias's ribcage.
Silently shivering against the possibility, Osias found himself clutching his sides which still hadn't recovered completely, his armored hand brushed against the many bruises that littered his body.
'Land a clean blow onto me. As if…'
However, he has constantly been tested and continues tIf there was one thing the land below the mist had a lack of, it was enemies. He was bound to either survive and get stronger or die a horrific death… or perhaps live a life worse than death.
o emerge stronger than he was. It wasn't like the endless days atop the summit though.
The swarm of underwood earlier was one of such outcomes…He'd rather be damned to constantly relive the days that Kiran had beaten him bloody than be enthralled by such a creature.
Asides from that, . The many human-like thralls of underwood battered him and in many places, even more than Kiran did.
Osias began to think of all the facets that add to his battle strength…His essence reservoir was coming along. But its limit's speed of breaking and increasing was something he had no control over. All he could do was ensure he had an abundance of blood essence within the tattoos… which he couldn't see emptying.That follows into his physical strength as well.
As for weapon arts… well, for him it would be more specifically his sword art.
He couldn't see himself wielding a plethora of different weapons like Kiran. Another suspicion Osias had was that he has yet to see the extent of Kirans arsenal and skills. It was baffling, how Kiran could weild what he has shown to such a degree of skill.sword techniques He was constantly honing his sword. Polishing his technique as he fought. If there was one thing the Outer Valleys had no lack of, it was enemies. Perhaps some were so far beyond himself that he could only vainly die in their presence, but there were some even he could kill…
Should Osias try and follow too?
Reaching for his scabbard, he set it his sword its sheathatop his lap and drew the sword… He was careful not to point it toward Kiran's direction, in case the crimson shaft of a spear met his jaw.
Osias lifted it up and studied his worn-down blade. The hilt wrap was a completely different color than it once was. It was frayed and stained with aged blood, sweat, and grime.
The blade edge itself was nicked and battered. Osias didn't know how much life there was left within it. He cared for it too, always wiping it down and avoiding the bones and parts of creatures that he knew in advance was too hard to cut.
But there were limits. Perhaps in the next few days, Kiran would conjure another construct for him, an imitation of his familiar short sword.
Yet, that led to another problem that throbbed in his head.
Osias sighed, as he thought of how hard it would be for Kiran to constantly concentrate on at least three different constructs at a time.
Kiran's own weapon.
Osias's armor and sword.
The constant thought that gnaws at his mind… he couldn't continue like this. Faster, he needed to close the vast chasm between himself and Kiran — even for just one day sooner. It felt as though this desire had been eating away at him, more than ever since they entered the mist. How much longer can Kiran continue with him in tow?
However, as he thought about Kiran, an uncanny question arose… how did Kiran maintain the shape of his spear and even the crimson armor while asleep?
Osias paused briefly, lost in thought. Did he ever see Kiran sleep? Even once?
Turning his view to Kiran, he wondered if Kiran was truly asleep. He had to have been, right? Second Ordeals are still mortals.
Should he point his sword at Kiran?
Shaking his head, Osias turned away from Kiran's dark figure, obscured by the deep shadows they were sheltered under.
'That's a death wish… am I so eager to die?'
However, just as Osias turned to look outside of the overhanging stone, he could've sworn he saw Kiran crack a small sneer that curled his lips ever so slightly.
But Osias quickly convinced himself that it must've been the shadow above playing tricks with his tired eyes.
'Sleep.' He thought.
'I need sleep.'
Osias plopped down heavily and rolled over to his back, wedged between a comfortable impression in the ground.
The ground of the hearth was still warm. Tinged with smoke and ash, but it was calming enough to soothe him into deep sleep…