Immortal Swordslinger 2

to me, dear. I could not have helped but sense your struggle. It’s exciting to see you reign victorious.”
I recalled the lamprey cores I’d absorbed and decided to use them to forge new pathways within me. As soon as I drew into myself, Nydarth spoke.
“Ugh, Smothering Mist technique. It is an abominable skill from the worst of the elements.”
“Smothering Mist, eh?” I figured the lampreys had used something similar during my fight with them. I’d learned techniques from wood, fire, and ash, so I knew the drill.
I closed my eyes and found the blueprints for the water pathways, but they were faded and difficult to grasp. Etching them into my Vigor lines proved more difficult than cupping water in my hand. Unlike my previous elemental channels that were solid and strong, a single pathway couldn’t contain enough Vigor to produce any real magic. Every element drew from the same source—Vigor, a kind of mana pool that allowed me to fill the channels inside my body with magic and perform incredible feats.
Then, I realized that water pathways didn’t function like the others. Instead of one, single vein, I created a myriad of tiny routes, a thousand little rivulets for Vigor to run down.
It was an odd sensation, letting the magic diffuse through me rather than concentrating it for something powerful. My body tingled as small trails of Vigor ran through it, the boundary between flesh and spirit blurring. Then, the Vigor flowed out through my skin, and the air around me grew damp.
I opened my eyes. A thick white cloud billowed around me, like the mists that had followed the lampreys.
“Smothering Mist can be used to conceal you,” Nydarth said. “It can be used to hide and to make surprise attacks, though those may be difficult until you become more powerful in the ways of water. At lower levels, it is good for helping you to retreat safely.”
“Like a ninja smoke bomb,” I said.
“Yes, much like that.” Nydarth groaned. “It has been effectively used against me. I ensured, however, that the Augmenter could not use it a second time.”
I concentrated and the mist traveled back toward my body. When it entered through the pores of my skin, I felt my Vigor replenish. It was the only technique I’d learned so far that could be “returned” in this way.
“Don’t you think it’s kind of cliche for you to hate water so much?” I asked Nydarth.
“Wouldn’t you despise something that is your singular weakness?”
I shrugged. “I guess. But I intend on mastering all the elements. Then, I won’t ever have a weakness.”
“Is that so? What, then, do you call the woman who sleeps not a few feet from you?”
I looked at Vesma, curled up on the ground as her chest slowly rose and fell. “She’s a strength, not a weakness.”
“Hmm. . . if you say so.”
I sheathed Nydarth, and her voice immediately quietened. She could still speak while sheathed, but she seemed to get the point.
Ideally, I would have liked to spend some time practicing my new technique to gain a better understanding of how it worked. But a cloud that hid me from attackers would also stop me seeing monsters approaching the camp, making me useless at keeping watch. I would have to find other ways to pass the time until the others woke up.
I figured a fire wouldn’t be a bad idea since we’d passed the danger of nightfall.
I started gathering fallen wood from around the edge of the clearing. I could have used Plank Pillar to harvest burning material, but it would be an unwarranted use of Vigor. A few months ago, I might have used Vigor to make this task easier, but I’d learned how important it was to be ready for a fight at any moment. There was also a certain amount of respect, or perhaps it could even be called honor, for Augmenting. I would be devaluing the ethos of this world by being flippant with its use.
I took the wood I’d collected and set up a new fire near the stream. I carefully built up from kindling to solid branches, then set it alight using flint and tinder. My stomach twisted and growled as hunger pangs pushed themselves up to my throat like a hand crushing my windpipe.
While the flames spread out, I retrieved a pan out of my bag and started making a stew. In went water, leftovers from last night’s rabbit, and a few dried herbs. I made sure not to use the healing plants we’d collected on our journey through the mountains. While the pot simmered, I took some vegetables from our supplies and started chopping them with the knife I had used for prying out skeletal corrals from monsters. I added the diced vegetables one by one to the mix. This was the part of cooking I excelled at—the knife work.
While I cooked, I kept watch over the camp. Vesma’s ‘girl next door’ prettiness was clear now that she wasn’t wearing her almost permanent scowl. Kegohr’s arms and torso were decorated with patches of wiry fur, and a clawed hand rested on his chest. He was snoring like some sort of bear, the sound so loud that I was amazed Vesma could sleep.
I tossed a piece of carrot at Kegohr, and it bounced off his forehead. He swatted at where it had hit while mumbling something under his breath. Still asleep, he rolled over onto his side, and the snoring stopped. His new position revealed a missing chunk of fur on his chest. I guessed he’d lost it during the fight against the lampreys. The spot where fur was missing showed a strange mark on his gray skin, like a tattooed pattern I didn’t recognize. What could it mean? Was it some kind of magical symbol? Or a tribal tattoo from his ogre parentage?
While the stew cooked, I got up and did some meditative sword forms. Nydarth whispered to me as I thrust, sliced, and whipped my sword. I ignored her flirting