The Anomaly's Path-Chapter 80: Flowing Vessel Art

I woke up to the feeling of sunlight on my face and a dull ache spreading through every part of my body.

I was lying on my bed in the orphanage.

Someone had taken off my boots and thrown a blanket over me. My clothes were still dirty from yesterday, covered in dried mud and little tears from the thorns. My arms felt like someone had used them to hammer nails into a wall, and my legs were so sore that I did not even want to think about moving them.

But I was alive.

I sat up slowly, groaning as my back cracked in a few places. The bruises from the rocks were still there, but they were already fading. The cuts on my arms and face had closed up overnight, leaving thin red lines that would probably be gone by tomorrow.

My body healed fast. Faster than it should have. I knew that was because of Mia’s power. She had used her Soul Weaving on me when I first washed up in the river, and ever since then, my body had been recovering quicker than normal.

It was not magic healing. It was just... better. Like my body had been pushed to work harder than it was supposed to.

I flexed my fingers and rolled my shoulders. Everything hurt, but it was the kind of hurt that felt like I was still in pain, but it was a "good" pain. It was the kind of soreness that told me my body was changing. I thought about yesterday.

The running, the rocks, the way Roran had pushed me until my core cracked. I remembered how I had passed out face down in the dirt like a fool. And then I considered today. I smiled. Just a little. I wasn’t going to let a little stiffness stop me.

Honestly? I was scared.

Of course I was scared. Roran was a demon. His training was brutal, and he did not care if I cried or begged or passed out. He would push me again today, and tomorrow, and the day after that.

But I was ready. If Roran was ready to break me again, I was ready to let him.

I washed my face with the water from the basin in the corner and headed out to the main room.

Breakfast was loud, as always.

The kids were gathered around the long wooden table, shoveling porridge into their mouths and arguing about something that probably did not matter.

Mia was standing by the fire, stirring a pot with one hand and yelling at a kid to sit down with the other.

I grabbed a bowl and sat down at the table. Elder Marta was sitting at the head, her weathered hands wrapped around a cup of tea, watching the chaos with a tired smile.

"You look better today," she said.

"I feel better," I said. "Sore, but better."

She nodded. "Roran came by last night. He carried you in over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You were completely out."

I felt my cheeks warm a little. "....Yeah. He pushed me hard."

"He always did that," Marta said, looking at her cup. "When he was younger, he trained the same way. He pushed himself until he could not stand. Then he got up and did it again."

I looked at her. "Did it work?"

She smiled. "He became the strongest man I ever knew. So yes, it worked."

I ate my breakfast in silence, thinking about her words.

After I finished eating, I stood up and stretched. The kids were already running around, chasing each other between the tables. Mia was trying to get them to calm down, but she was fighting a losing battle.

I walked toward the door.

"Leo," Mia called out.

I turned. She was looking at me with a strange expression. Worry, maybe. Or concern.

"Be careful," she said.

I nodded. "I will."

I stepped outside.

_

The morning sun was warm on my face. The village was awake now, people moving through the streets, children playing, merchants setting up their stalls. It felt normal and peaceful.

I walked toward the edge of the village, toward the jungle, where Roran would be waiting. He was already there. Standing in the same spot as yesterday, his wooden sword resting on his shoulder, that same sharp grin on his face.

"So, you’re back for more?" he asked, his eyes gleaming.

My smile faltered for a second, but I straightened my back. "...Yes. I’m ready."

Roran laughed. "Good. Because we have a lot of work to do."

He walked toward me and stopped a few feet away.

"First things first," he said. "We need to fix your mana problem. Your efficiency is terrible. It is like you have never used mana before in your life."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he held up his hand.

"I am not insulting you. I am telling you the truth. You are leaking mana constantly. It is pouring out of you like water from a cracked pot. That is why your attacks are weak. That is why you run out of energy so fast. And that is why monsters can find you so easily."

I frowned. "What do monsters have to do with it?"

"Monsters can sense mana," Roran said. "Every living thing gives off a little. But you? You are like a beacon. You leave a trail of your energy everywhere you go. Any monster with half a brain could track you down."

I thought about the Night Terror. How it had found me in the jungle and hunted me for days before attacking. Maybe that was why.

"You said you have a breathing technique, right?" Roran asked.

"Yes, I have. It’s called Foundation Breathing Art."

"I figured. Nobles love their fancy techniques." He crossed his arms. "But, are you willing to throw it away and learn mine?"

I didn’t hesitate. "If it makes me stronger, yes."

Roran raised an eyebrow. "You are not going to think about it?"

"I did not come here to be picky. I came here to learn. If your technique works, I want it."

He stared at me for a moment. Then he laughed.

"Good answer. Now, look at me. Do you sense anything? Mana?"

I squinted, trying to focus my senses. I could barely feel a flicker. It was like he was a part of the forest itself.

"I can barely sense it. It is there but hard to notice. As if you are not leaking any mana."

"My method isn’t for nobles," he continued. "Nobles love to show off their mana flow. They want everyone to know how much they have. I made this method to hide my presence, but also to increase my flow. I call it the Flowing Vessel Art."

He sat down on the ground and gestured for me to do the same. "Sit."

I sat down across from him, crossing my legs.

"Listen carefully," Roran said. "Your problem is not just that you are leaking mana. It is that your body does not know how to hold it. You have been trained to pull mana into your core and leave it there. But your core is small. It can only hold so much. The rest spills out."

He tapped his chest.

"I am going to pass my mana into your body. I am going to rewrite your mana channels to match this technique. It will hurt a lot. But do not fight it. Let it happen."

I swallowed hard. "...Okay."

"Good. Now, close your eyes."

I closed my eyes.

As soon as his hand touched my shoulder, I felt his mana enter my body. It was warm, but not gentle. It pushed through my veins like a river breaking through a dam, forcing its way into places I did not even know existed. My muscles tensed. My bones ached. My head pounded.

"Don’t fight it!" Roran’s voice boomed. "Don’t push the mana back. Feel the flow. Let it pass through you!"

I gritted my teeth, sweat pouring down my face. It felt like my very soul was being re-stitched. After what felt like hours, the heat receded, and Roran stood up, breathing easily.

I opened my eyes. Roran was standing in front of me, his arms crossed, watching me with a satisfied expression.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

I flexed my fingers. My body felt... different.

"...Weird," I said. "But good."

"Now," he said. "Try to feel the mana in the air. Use those ’excellent senses’ you’re so proud of. Try to collect it—not just in your core, but in your whole body."

I blinked. "My whole body? Isn’t the core the only place for storage?"

"That’s why your people are limited," Roran grinned. "Most arts treat the core as a jar. Once it’s full, you’re done. But in my technique, your whole body is the vessel. Every muscle, every bone. It’s absurd, and most people would explode trying it. That’s why this is a ’replica’ technique. It creates an artificial flow that makes your whole body move in sync with your mana."

He told me to try it. I closed my eyes and breathed. Instead of pushing everything into that small point in my stomach, I let the mana settle in my arms, my legs, and my chest. The flow felt smooth, like a river that finally found its path.

At first, there was nothing. Just the wind, the trees, the distant sounds of the village.

Then I felt it.

Mana.

Everywhere. In the air, in the ground, in the leaves, in the sunlight. It was like I had been looking at a painting my whole life and only now realized it had colors I had never seen before.

"...I feel it," I whispered.

"Good. Now pull it in. Not just into your core. Pull it into your whole body. Your arms. Your legs. Your chest. Let it fill you."

I did. The mana rushed into me, filling every part of my body. It was like breathing, but deeper. Like my whole body was a lung, and I was taking my first real breath.

I opened my eyes.

Roran was grinning.

"Not bad," he said. "You learn fast."

"That was..." I tried to find the words. "Strange. But good."

He sat down on a log and gestured for me to do the same.

"It will take time to get used to. But if you practice this every day, your mana flow will become smoother. Your control will get better. And your leaks will stop. But use this every day," Roran commanded.

I nodded.

"When you’re eating, when you’re sleeping, even when you’re shitting. You used to sit still to circulate mana, right? No more. With this, you can circulate while you fight. It cuts down the time you need to refill your reserves. It makes you faster."

"That sounds useful."

He leaned back.

"It is. It will help you recover your mana faster in battle. But always remember. This technique is not a replacement for your core. It is a supplement. Your core is still where your power comes from. The Flowing Vessel Art just helps you use that power more efficiently."

I thought about his words. It made sense. In the game, mana circulation was always something you had to focus on. But if I could do it passively, even in the middle of a fight...

"What about breakthroughs?" I asked. "How do I increase my rank?"

He paused, looking at the horizon. "Breaking through to the next rank? It’s not just about mana or having a big core. It is about pushing past your limits. You cannot just sit in a room and cultivate your way to a higher rank. You need to fight. You need to face death. You need to experience something that forces your soul to grow."

I listened.

"Your core is important. Your mana is important. But your will is just as important. If your soul is weak, you will never break through. You will hit a wall and stay there forever."

He looked at me. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

"That is why I push you so hard. Not because I want to hurt you. Because I need you to understand what it feels like to be at your limit. To have nothing left. To stare into the darkness and keep going anyway."

I nodded and went quiet for a moment.

"Roran," I asked, wiping sweat from my brow. "What is your actual rank?"

"I’m a Grandmaster," he said simply.

"Is there anyone stronger than you?"

He thought for a moment. "Yes. There are people in this world who make me look like a puppy. The Grandmaster rank is divided into three sub-ranks. Low, Mid, High. There’s always a bigger fish."

"So... has anyone ever reached the Transcendent rank?" I asked.

Roran frowned. "Transcendent? What the hell is that?"

My heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean? It’s the rank above Grandmaster."

"No," Roran said firmly. "The highest any human has ever reached is Grandmaster. There is nothing above it."

I went cold. How was that possible? In my time, people had reached Transcendent and beyond. My own father was a Transcendent.

But here, in this era, no one had even heard of it. Did they lose the knowledge over the centuries? Or was it because they did not have Systems or Paths like we did in the present?

Something was very wrong with the history of this world, and the more I learned, the less I understood.

Roran clapped his hands, breaking my train of thought. "Enough talking. Now stand up. Now we work on affinities. They aren’t just mana—they are part of your soul. Everyone is born with it, even if they don’t know it. I saw you using that black lightning. It’s interesting, but you looked like you’d never used it before."

He sighed heavily. "I don’t know what your parents were doing, but for a noble, your education was a disaster."

"It wasn’t their fault," I said quickly, my voice quiet. "I was... I was the problem. I told you how I used to be."

"Well, you’re changing now," Roran said. "To make an art, you need affinities. They boost the power. You can use one, or you can combine them. It doesn’t matter how many you have."

He looked at me. "So, do you only have that black lightning, or is there more?"

I felt a surge of pride. I gave him a small grin. "Don’t get too shocked, old man. I actually have three affinities."

I waited for his jaw to drop. I waited for him to call me a genius. Instead, Roran just shrugged. "Oh? Three? That’s nice. Good for you."

My grin fell. "What... what’s with that face? I said I have three! Three fucking separate elements!"

"Yeah, I heard you," Roran said, picking up his wooden sword. "Don’t shout. Three is great for a kid like you. But I’ve seen people with five. I’ve even seen monsters with six."

I stood there, completely frozen. My brain felt like it was short-circuiting. "Five? Six? That... that shouldn’t be possible! You are telling me there are people who have that many?"

"Yes. That is what I said."

In The Hero Chronicles, having two affinities was considered prodigy level. Three was almost unheard of. Five or six was impossible.

But this was not the game. This was real. And apparently, in the past, people could have multiple affinities.

"What is happening in this world?" I muttered.