Chapter 66 — Learning to Fall Properly
Garrett’s reaction to the new technique, once Arlen demonstrated a careful, controlled version of it during their next session, carried more genuine interest than Arlen had expected.
"Aura-channeled burst movement," Garrett said, watching Arlen recover his balance after a modest, deliberately restrained demonstration. "Rare enough this early in someone’s training. Most Aura users spend years building toward that kind of application, if they ever manage it at all."
"Started noticing the capability a few weeks back," Arlen said, the explanation settling comfortably into the same pattern he’d used before. "Wanted your guidance before I tried using it in anything serious. Nearly lost my footing testing it alone."
"Wise instinct." Garrett circled him slowly, studying his stance with the same critical attention he’d shown that very first day months ago. "Burst movement’s dangerous precisely because it outpaces your own reaction time if you’re not properly anchored. Body goes one direction, balance lags behind, and you end up sprawled on the ground exactly when you most need to be ready to fight."
"That’s exactly what happened, the first few times."
"Then we’ll fix it properly." Garrett settled into a demonstration stance. "The trick isn’t controlling the burst itself — that’s simply channeling Aura into your legs, same principle as any other technique. The trick is anchoring your center before you release it, so your balance already knows where it’s heading rather than scrambling to catch up afterward."
They spent the following weeks working through exactly that discipline, Garrett drilling Arlen through careful, incremental practice — short bursts first, barely more than a quick step, gradually building toward the full range Arlen had experienced during his private testing.
"Storm Step," Arlen said, during one session, when Garrett asked what he’d taken to calling it privately.
"Fitting enough," Garrett said, approval evident in his weathered features. "Name it what makes sense to you. Most Aura users develop their own private names for personal techniques anyway, long before the guild bothers formalizing anything."
The training proved considerably more physically demanding than either of his previous named techniques, the sheer disorientation of sudden, explosive movement requiring an entirely different kind of body awareness than the controlled strikes and defensive forms he’d already mastered.
"You’re getting there," Garrett said, watching Arlen complete a clean burst-step that carried him several yards without the accompanying stumble that had plagued his earlier attempts. "Give it another month of consistent practice, and I’d trust you to use it properly in a genuine fight."
Arlen balanced this new training alongside his ordinary quest work, taking on modest, manageable postings while Storm Step settled properly into his body the way Edgeline Strike and Aura Ward had before it. He found himself, during this stretch, also making good on the promise he’d been quietly considering for months — finally approaching Ysolde properly about the guild’s neglected culinary archive.
"About time you asked," Ysolde said, when he raised the subject one evening after finishing a meal. "I’ve been hinting at it for months."
"I wanted to have something worth contributing first," Arlen admitted. "Didn’t want to just add a few scattered notes and call it done."
"And now?"
"Now I’ve got proper documentation on five different creatures, at least. Ember-tailed lizard, storm-hawk, sky-eyed hawk, marsh eel, plus whatever I can properly write up about the boar that started all this." He didn’t mention, of course, the deeper significance each entry carried beyond simple culinary interest. "Thought I’d bring what I have to Eldrin first, since he mentioned the archive to me originally. See what format the guild actually wants this documented in."
Ysolde nodded approvingly. "Good instinct. Scholarly types like proper structure. Bring me a sample of that ember-tailed lizard sometime too, while you’re at it. Still owe myself that taste test."
Arlen sought out Eldrin the following week, finding the professor between expeditions and genuinely delighted by the proposal.
"I’d wondered if you’d ever follow through on that interest," Eldrin said, reviewing the careful notes Arlen had compiled across his journal entries. "This is good work, Arlen. Properly detailed — habitat, threat assessment, meat quality, preparation notes. Exactly the kind of documentation the archive’s been missing for years."
"What’s the proper format for submission?"
"I’ll walk you through it. The archive accepts entries from any confirmed adventurer, though most people never bother given how little glory it offers compared to combat achievements." Eldrin’s eyes carried genuine warmth as he reviewed the pages further. "This entry on the ember-tailed lizard, in particular — the note about vinegar cutting the richness, that’s exactly the kind of practical detail that makes an entry useful rather than merely academic."
They spent the better part of an afternoon formalizing Arlen’s existing notes into the archive’s proper structure, Eldrin offering guidance on presentation while genuinely appreciating the quality of the underlying observations.
"I’ll submit these under your name," Eldrin said, once they’d finished. "You’ll want to keep contributing, if you’re able. The archive rewards consistent contributors with modest guild recognition, beyond simple quest reputation."
"I intend to," Arlen said, and found the promise settling into him with the same quiet satisfaction he took from every deliberate, patient piece of the life he was building.
He wrote about the day’s progress that evening, his journal entry carrying the same steady, grounded energy that had characterized most of his recent reflections.
Storm Step progressing well under Garrett’s guidance — another month, he says, before I’d trust it in real combat. Formally submitted my first culinary archive entries today, with Eldrin’s help. Five creatures properly documented now, with more to come as I keep pursuing new abilities.
I like how naturally these two pieces of my life have started fitting together — the deliberate hunt for new abilities, and the genuine, separate joy of documenting what I’ve tasted along the way. Neither one exists purely to serve the other, though they’ve become intertwined regardless. I think that’s exactly the balance I promised myself I’d maintain, back when I first made peace with the idea of growing stronger deliberately rather than simply by chance.
Five abilities. Two named Aura techniques, soon to be three once Storm Step is properly refined. A modest but growing contribution to the guild’s culinary records. Months of careful, patient work, each piece building naturally on the last.
I think, more than at almost any point since I registered at this guild, I finally feel like I’m becoming exactly the person I promised myself I’d become, back in that other life, dying with nothing but regret for all the things I never got around to experiencing.
He closed the journal, the evening settling comfortably around him, and found himself looking forward, with quiet and steady anticipation, to whatever the coming months of continued, deliberate growth might still have waiting for him.