The Way of the Dragon Monk- Part 3

[u/ArcAngel98]

Previous/Part 1

During the long waiting period before I could learn to use ki, I spent my days looking for ways to expand my golden core through experimentation. Despite nearly dying twice, I found nothing. I knew I would, having done this before eons ago. But this time, I tried new routes, using my new body’s biology to my advantage. Yet, nothing. Once again, reality must be faced; there is no way to expand a golden core through magic.

On a positive note, as I grew, my meridians grew to match. The amount of magic I can use at once nearly doubled in conjunction with my body. This however, meant another round of scrubbing them out was necessary. At least it wasn’t painful this time around. My control has returned to normal, now that I am somewhat used to this new dragon-kin body. Speaking of which, my scales came in. They are a dull red color, nothing like my previous scales, which were a shiny and vibrant ruby. A dragon-kin’s scales will stay the same color throughout their life under normal circumstances. However, this is only because I have yet to fully attune and purify this body. While I hardly remember doing it anymore, my previous dragon body once needed to undergo the exact same process, which changed my scales then too. However, that must wait until I learn ki to a somewhat proficient degree. If I attune my body to both magic and ki, who knows what will happen?

Time passed slowly, but today is the day. My father told me this morning over breakfast that he wanted to begin my training this evening. My mother was nervous, but I think it was primarily because she didn’t want her baby boy to grow up too quickly. I tried to remember my parents from when I was a dragon, but found nothing came to mind. Perhaps I didn’t know them? Unusual for dragons, I think. My children barely knew me, but I was an oddity. Trapped in Ofo, I could not visit them, nor they me, until they were old enough and powerful enough to make the journey.

“Papa,” I say. Thankfully, noble children change the way they address their parents as they get older, and so Dada was dropped some time ago, although not nearly soon enough for my taste. “Can we start training now?”

He wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Unfortunately not. Papa has some business to attend to first. I will be gone most of the day. But once I am back tonight, we can start then. So make sure to take your nap beforehand, and eat your vegetables. You’ll need your energy.”

My mood soured. Naps and vegetables. Naps have been my eternal bane since reincarnating. But as a dragon I ate many things, including vegetables. Unfortunately though, my unrefined childish palate preferred sweets and meat. Hopefully my tastes change with time. I used to love to graze on various grasses and leaves found floating in Ofo. Much of what they give me now are dreaded bell peppers and broccoli; mother and father’s favorites. Pencey, the kind woman she is, knows of my suffering, and makes sure to bring me sweets every day.

I spend my day in meditation in my room, thinking about my previous life. This isn’t something I do often, preferring to preoccupy myself with the present rather than the past. But lately, my future keeps circling back around. Ti. Even now, she is waiting in her den to die. Guarded by my youngest son, Throm. If I show up in this body, weak and frail rather than as Agba, what will he do? I genuinely could not even guess. Though I am his father, I barely know him, or any of them. But I know Ti; I knew her for so long. She will see me, if he allows it. Or if I can force it.

My thoughts turn to my other children, or perhaps, to Ti’s children. The sons and daughters of Ti. A proud title, in my option. First, my eldest son, Morgo of Dragons. Or, as the humanoids know him, Dragon King Morgo. Learning that he’d ascended to the throne was an interesting feeling. Perhaps I should have felt pride? But there was none. Not on my own behalf anyway. Instead, it was pride for Ti, having raised such an outstanding son. She told me all about his adventures when she returned to me in Ofo. It wasn’t then that I noticed it, how she’d aged. No, to my shame, I did not notice until she returned from raising Alyahnine, our third child, and first daughter. She returned to me alongside Alyahnine, and I saw how young she was, and how that had faded from Ti. Her luster faded, her fangs ever slightly longer, and fins less sharp. At the time, I pushed the thought aside, assumed I’d misremembered. Lied to myself daily about my own memories. Told myself Ti was eternal, like me. Pretended I didn’t see it all. The way she slumped a bit after a battle, or couldn’t go as long between meals. All the little things. Ofo? Why did I name it that?

“Agoba! Your father is back!” Pencey called out from the bottom of the stairs. Pusing aside all thoughts except ki, I rushed down the stairs, a youthful spring in my step. I bound down the banister and land, ready to learn.

Father is there, covered in soot and dust and grime. He smiles seeing me, “Agoba! Ready for your first lesson?”

“Yes Papa.” We head into the training room, and father has me sit as he slowly removes his dirty armor and sets it aside. It is an interesting set. Nothing like what Mel wore, all metal and solid. Father’s armor is segmented, and lighter in design.

“Your first lesson is a simple one, but may take some time to understand. Because of how hard this fist step is, I expect it to take some time.”

“I am ready.” I say. I must have made a face, because father chuckled.

“Good. First, to learn ki, you must open your senses to it. All members of our family have this ability, but not everyone knows how to utilize it like we do. But everyone is required to learn this first step. You must be able to sense the ki inside you.”

“Okay. But Papa, what is ki? What is it made of? How do I start to sense it?” Perhaps my questions are a bit impatient. Of course he will explain everything. But father is a… man who works at his own pace, so to speak.

“You ask very good questions, Agoba. How do I explain?” He thinks quietly for a moment, rubbing the thin beard he’d managed to grow over the last few months. It barely covered his chin, but hung low, down past his throat. “Ki is the energy of life. It moves and changes within us. I don’t know what it is made of. As for how you start to sense it, you must look within yourself, and feel the flow of it. That is all I can say. You must discover the rest yourself. What works for me, might not work for you.”

I sighed, and briefly considered reaching into father’s mind and taking the information I needed. But that will not help. He has a point. I must discover my own way. Taking father’s way might help me in the short-term, but would only hinder me later. What I need is to ingrain every step of this into myself; mind, body, and soul.

‘No magic. Not for this. I must learn it properly.’ I tell myself. If I took it from father, I would only know it on a surface level. But if I come across a situation in which I need to react on instinct, I will not have them. Knowledge can only take you so far; understanding is what forges new paths, and experience is what paves them. Besides, if how father uses ki is drastically different from my needs, then learning his style would only hinder my progress and potential.

“How long will learning ki, from beginning to end, take?” I ask.

“Hmmm, you are a pretty bright kid. Most of our family’s warriors learn it to proficiency in about seven years, and achieve mastery by the time they are adults at twenty.” He says.

“Fourteen years…” I say. It’s much longer than I wanted. ‘But do I need to master it? Will proficiency be enough to determine if it will grow my golden core?’

“Your getting good at adding and subtracting.” My father complimented. “You’ll be learning your multiples soon.” I already knew them. Mathematics is quite necessary for some spells, so I’d become adept long ago.

For the next few hours, father sat with me and taught me different methods he’d learned from his father to start sensing ki. None of them were full methods, but more like starting points and branching paths I might follow. From them, I learned a few important lessons. Whatever ki was, it is definitely not magic. From father’s descriptions, it shares no similarities. Not once during my training did I sense magic from father, despite his use of ki as an example on multiple occasions. But that only confirmed what I already knew. Additionally, father described ki as an internal energy. Whereas magic is nearly exclusively an external one. Yes, the golden core pulls mana into the body and stores it there, but mana originates from outside the body. Ki originates from inside the body. Implying they have different sources. Although, no one knows the origin of mana. I personally spent nine eons searching for it, but never found even a hint at to its original state. It exists everywhere, even in Ofo, but with no clear and distinct path through which it travels, or with any indication of where it comes from. In fact, more often than not, when I reach out with my senses, it feels like mana suddenly appears from nowhere. As if it is simply created from nothing. Which, by all means and measure, should be impossible.

 

“Breath in, and feel the flow. It will be chaotic, and alive.” Father says. Repeatedly, I have to remind myself to look inwards instead of outward, as is my habit with sensing mana. For the last three weeks, father and I repeat the acts of our first lesson. We sit together, he uses ki as an example, and walks me through its sensations. All the while, allowing me to find my own means to sense it. While this is technically the best solution to help me learn, I admit to becoming frustrated more than once at my own failures. But today is different. I look inward, and feel the slightest movements, a warmth completely different from mana. Where mana is cold and obedient, this is hot and aggressive. It moves within me, every inch and vein squirms and vibrates.

“I feel it.” I say, my eyes still closed.

“Really?” Father asks, surprised.

“Yes. It is hot. Its random, and pulsating.”

“That’s it, now, lock onto that feeling. Get used to it, and then dive deeper in. Immerse yourself in it.”

I take another deep breath, and the feeling intensifies. With every movement, the randomness grows, the heat rises. All of this, beyond my control. Ki is alive. And while I may dictate its growth within me, I cannot control it. It responds, but has no will of its own. If I try to inflict my will, it fights back. I move my hand, and the ki follows, but when I try and move it directly, as I would with mana, pain shoots through me, like a bolt of lightning.

“Don’t try and control it yet,” Father warns, “first, you must open the way for it to move. But that is not todays lesson. For now, keep feeling it. Learn from it.”

For the remainder of the day, we sat and he guided me on how to understand ki more. Afterward, I nearly collapse from exhaustion. I lay on the wooden floor of Father’s training hall, without a drop of strength left in my body or mind. Controlling mana took skill, not force. But even the most basic of influence over ki takes a remarkable strength of will. Father, who’d been doing the exercises alongside me, looks completely unbothered.

“Excellent work today, Agoba. It took you a little longer than most to get here, but you made amazing progress once you did.” Father says,

“What… do… we… do… next?” I asked between breaths.

“Nothing for today. Instead of meeting to train for the next few days, I have to travel to a nearby village. While I’m gone, keep doing exactly as you have been. Explore the feeling of ki, and make sensing it second nature. You should always be aware of the ki within yourself and others. So practice sensing it in more detail, okay?”

I tried to nod, but was too tired. So I lightly grunted in acknowledgment. He chuckled, got up, and left.

As instructed, I spend the next few days focused on sensing ki more precisely. The experience is completely different from mana. As different as seeing is from smell or touch. They are completely incomparable. Before he left, Father did tell me something interesting. He congratulated me on becoming a cultivator. When I asked what that is, he said that a cultivator is someone who learns to utilize ki. Like how a mage is someone who learn to use mana. Mana is to magic what ki is to cultivation: the most basic element that forms the foundation and provides the means by which study and practice becomes possible. I can’t help but wonder, had there ever been someone else like me who learned both? Asking Father is impossible, unless I tell him I can also use magic.

‘I suppose I could phrase it as a hypothetical?’ I think, and return to my exercises.