Jump, scan, jump, scan, jump, scan.
A ga of montum. Each kick off from the dirt wall was a new direction. If he wanted to go faster, then he needed to loosen up. Let the instincts of the ability flow through him.
Faster, faster, faster. Go faster to sharpen Qi Sense.
His neurons were twisting together with his pathways. The activation ti of Qi Sense snapped faster. He could have exchanged raw speed to maintain it automatically. He decided otherwise in the event he had to disable and reenable it. The potential harm with an automatic Qi Sense was too big a margin. Dasha had to plan for every eventuality. He had to understand every inch of what he was doing and how he was doing it. Letting flow to automacy was the sign of strength but not greatness.
To act as fast as possible and still be able to operate Qi Sense was the best way to gain understanding. To walk and use it ant nothing. If this didn’t beco second nature, then there was no point to any of this. He would simply be a slave to the System.
He was two-thirds there. He began to feel the warmth of the fog.
Jump, scan, jump, scan, jump, scan.
His boots crunched up against the wall for just a millisecond too long and he proceeded to launch himself off with greater vigour. Foundation Establishnt was running at full capacity. Qi Sense was slowly beginning to deploy automatically.
The warm light touched his back. The hole was reaching its end. The hole beca wider in size and he bounced off after. At the final jump, he reached for the edge—
"Haah...."
His fingers crunched into the soil and he pulled himself up. Dasha Pang erged after three days of training. Between the ditation and physical training, his resolve and understanding of himself deepened. Nothing but him and soil stayed at the bottom of the hole. Not even the dirt, which his lightning forcibly made stagnant, interfered with his concentration. Due to the higher quality of Qi in the atmosphere, even so far deep, he was able to ditate for a record of nine hours. Before, he limited himself to two or three hour ditation cycles for the sake of efficiency. He had a schedule: wake up, ditate, eat, exercise, then get to work at the Dream th. He often employed two to three hour power naps and made up for any potential sleep debt and repercussions with a full nine hours of sleep on the weekend. It was a controlled schedule.
This week, Dasha broke that schedule. He rose from the hole that led to the end of this world and ca back smarter. ’I was hoping to level up the actual Qi Sense skill. I suppose it’s not that simple.’ He raised the black gauntlets, crackling. ’But I am close. I can feel my sensing capabilities on the verge breaking through. It’s right there. I only need a tiny little push.’
Annoyingly, the mist still blocked his Qi Sense. But if there was anything he got out of this, it was that Qi Sense did activate at a very short, subtle range. Dasha closed his eyes.
’Yes...the range is absurdly small. Less than two centitres but it’s there. I’ve gotten so much better at Qi Sense that I’m able to leak through the tiniest gap in the mist.’
He struck the air. Like last ti, the mist didn’t move in the slightest. ’But...how co that wasn’t the case for the Will-o’-wisp? There has to be a strong connection for the Wisps to do sothing that I cannot. I’m stronger than them by a longshot. This is not a matter of power. It is sothing else. A connection that binds them to this fog but not us.’
There was a trick. Sowhere, sohow, there was a way to get rid of this mist.
Finnish, British, Welsh, and Irish mythology wasn’t the solution. If so, ti to move onto another mythology. To do that, he needed to find a Will-o’-wisp or a Witte Wieven. Either would be fine. The rumour was that the Witte Wieven was a rare encounter. In fact, if it wasn’t for Xavier outright confirming its existence, Dasha would have assud it was a hallucination from prolonged exposure to the mist. The stories on the Witte Wieven, the "White Woman", were so far in between that it was akin to a children’s folktale.
Invisibility was flicked on. Then, he burst forward. Ti to really cover ground. Trails of black lightning followed, the lightning too slow to keep up with his speed. The Seven-league Boots was said to take seven leagues per step. The distance that would take an ordinary man one hour to walk was covered in a mont’s notice for Dasha Pang. He encountered his first set of players. From their perspective, an intense wind rushed past them. For Dasha, they were flicks that he was not interested in.
He blitzed between locations for an hour. The area was massive. Dasha counted up to thirty players, so in groups and others alone. They were scattered far enough to prevent them from eting for days. So players were chopping wood probably because of the intrinsic value. Xavier told him to do the sa.
Dasha stopped directly in front of a redwood tree. Over two hundred feet tall and fifteen feet in diater, it took a while for the current players to chop it. The magical properties of the wood made for good wands, apparently.
His hand beca sharp and he sliced the redwood tree in half. What took other players hours to do, Dasha did in seconds. The massive tree began to fall over. Two hundred feet of mighty wood tilted over, a shadow casting over him. Dasha didn’t worry. He casually walked to the side and waited for the tree to fall over.
THUMP!
Two hundred feet of wood slamd into the ground and the mist parted slightly. Dasha, who had been waiting with his arm in his gi, narrowed his eyes behind his mask.
’The mist shifted.’
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