TO Rewrite: B4 — 11. Framework
Added 2025-08-05 22:31:25 +0000 UTC1. Rachel Park (Our Lunar Hare!)
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Stepping through the portal, Rachel’s running shoes landed on hard-packed earth that tasted of dust and desperation, the dimensional rift sealing behind them with a sound like reality tearing and mending itself in the same breath.
Her enhanced senses immediately swept the settlement before them, cataloging every heartbeat, every whispered prayer, every labored breath that carried the weight of impending death—the notes within the people’s voices were not one of hope, despite their cries for relief.
The town is sick… Great. Maria and Butter’s specialty.
Her hearing extended outward like invisible tendrils, mapping the acoustic landscape of a town balanced on the knife’s edge of something far worse than mere mortality.
Mudhaven—or that’s what the sign said next to the main, dusty road they were on—sprawled beneath a sky painted in shades of bruised purple and dying gold, the sun hanging like a wounded eye on the western horizon.
It truly appeared as a scene out of an old western.
Gas lamps flickered to life along wooden boardwalks that creaked under the weight of too many secrets, their amber glow creating pools of warmth against the encroaching darkness.
Steam-powered contraptions chugged through streets that seemed to exist in three different centuries at once—brass clockwork mechanisms sharing space with crude frontier machinery, while telegraph wires strung between buildings hummed with electrical current that somehow felt wrong against Rachel’s supernatural senses.
That energy isn’t entirely natural. It almost feels like traces of…Hell Force?
“Not ominous at all,” Adult Nia commented, materializing beside her, hands tucked into her shorts pockets. “How discrete do we need to be?”
Rachel directed a slight smirk in Butter’s direction, glowing gold and practically manic with enthusiasm as she pointed everywhere, asking for clarity. The others were far more reserved, Scarlet’s narrowed eyes already crimson, filtering out their surroundings to scan for danger.
Something tells me we’re not beating the ‘outsider’ allegations.
“Yeah… No, we stand out like a pair of bunny ears in snow.”
You can say that again, she mumbled, glancing at Wakalapi and wondering what their policy on Native Americans was. Then again, there were some interesting signs of cohabitation.
Her gaze drifted between buildings in the fading light.
Native American totems rose between Spanish colonial archways, their carved faces seeming to track the group’s movement with eyes that held depths no wood should possess.
Victorian storefronts stood shoulder-to-shoulder with adobe cantinas, their architectural discord somehow harmonizing into something that felt both familiar and impossibly wrong.
A general store boasted windows filled with goods that gleamed too brightly in the lamplight, while next door a saloon’s batwing doors swung in rhythm to piano music that carried notes no earthly instrument should produce.
“Well, ain’t this a picture,” Grace murmured, her hand instinctively checking her pistol as she surveyed their surroundings with the practiced eye of someone who’d been here before. “Welcome to the frontier. Population—’bout three hundred on a good day. Today ain’t a good day.”
The air carried scents of coal smoke, sage, and Hell. But not the usual kind.
Underneath the familiar frontier smells lay an acrid tang that reminded her of burnt copper and sulfur, mixed with the organic decay of things that should have stayed buried.
No. This felt closer to a particular fallen deity who loved to welcome guests—Izanami.
“You don’t think she’s involved?”
Knowing her… I wouldn’t put it past her. She is a Ruler of Hell, after all.
Death that had been twisted, reshaped, made to serve purposes it was never meant for. “Oh, this is absolutely delightful! This is my first time in such a dead place—at least, in memory. No, wait… I’m getting ahead of myself,” she giggled. “No, my recent visit with a Supreme Chief was far more potent. I let my excitement get the better of me.”
“High Queen…” Adoncia groaned as they got stink eyes from various windows or porches. “We should be respectful and not gawk.”
“Gawking is respectful, darling! It boasts and shows off their diversity.”
Rachel had to snicker internally at that as the maid seemed at a loss for words.
Her ears shifted to the left as Scarlet pressed closer to her, voice low. “Rachel, something's wrong with the blood here. I can see and smell sickness, but it’s not…natural.”
“The ground itself feels tainted,” Maria mumbled, arms crossed and glancing around. “The wind, even, chicas… Damn, that’s creepy.”
“Yeah, well, you can’t smell it,” Scarlet whispered back, lifting her hand to her nose with a grimace. “It’s like the illness has been seasoned with something else entirely. And it’s…familiar.”
Maria crossed herself reflexively while adjusting her cross necklace. “Pinche lugar está maldito… It’s corruption. Like the mierda Rachel’s into.”
“Thanks,” Rachel snorted, spotting the Native American move to the totems with a small frown, running his hands along the wood. “What is it?”
“These are not blessings…but curses. Malevolent spirits.”
“Perfect…” Maria snorted. “Hell Force?”
Her step-sister’s wings fluttered nervously as divine energy from her pendant responded to whatever wrongness saturated the settlement, golden light flickering in anxious pulses.
Conquest reigned her horse beside Grace’s, looking intrigued. “This place is already subjugated… It just doesn’t realize it yet.”
Grace clicked her tongue and played with the edge of the gun on her belt. “Shoot. That bad, huh? And these folk were so nice to me when I first arrived… Crazy what some of y’all can just sense off rip… Makes me kinda sad. There were some good people here.”
Rachel’s ears swiveled constantly, catching fragments of conversation from open windows and shadowed doorways:
Prayers whispered in Spanish, English, and languages she didn’t recognize flowed together like a desperate symphony.
Children cried for their parents behind closed shutters, sickly and wheezing.
Adults tried not to cry as they tended to loved ones whose conditions defied explanation.
And underneath it all, threading through the normal sounds of frontier life, something that made her tail bristle—the soft, rhythmic hiss of sand being spat into brass spittoons.
Every eye darted to her as she stepped forward.
“By my estimates, a third of the population is currently showing signs of sickness… What do you think, Scarlet? I can only go off of breathing and movement.”
Scarlet’s focus darted to the scowling men and women who looked at them, whispering about what bad winds were blowing their way again with these newcomers?
“By their blood…two-thirds of the population.”
“Damn,” Grace sighed, tipping her hat lower with a mournful shake of her head. “We can do somethin’ about that, though. Right, Boss? We got the milk.”
“We certainly do have the milk, darling.” Butter moved away from them toward the lazy street as word spread about their arrival. “I can feel the decay crackling through everything. It’s like someone’s been experimenting with reality itself—poking holes in the fundamental structure of existence just to see what would leak through. How cheeky…”
Adoncia stood at her mistress’ side, her blue eyes scanning for threats with the professional efficiency of someone who’d spent some time protecting a reckless boss. Her oni features hadn’t shown themselves yet from her typical South American features.
Wakalapi’s eyes glowed softly as he pulled his pipe from his lips and breathed, sacred smoke curling in obscure patterns before dissipating. The Native mystic’s coyote features showed deep lines.
“The spirits here are…twisted. Something has been feeding on the natural order, reshaping it to serve hunger rather than harmony.”
“Ya don’t say,” Grace mumbled with a forced smile, watching a man scoop up sand from the side of the road before spooning it into his mouth. “Things ain’t the same as the last time I was here. That’s for sure… Before, the town was hit with smallpox, but not like any smallpox I’ve seen. Started about two weeks ago, right after the railroad came through.”
“There’s our clue, then. Right?” Alexa hissed, wings ruffling as she floated up a bit, casting her gaze around. “Uh… Where’s the railroad?”
Grace forced a grin. “The same question I asked, darlin’. Thing is…town ain’t got a rail near it.”
Maria scratched her neck and grunted, “Pues, mierda.”
That piqued Rachel’s interest as she nodded toward the saloon at the end of the main street, its batwing doors swinging in a breeze that carried the sound of piano music and nervous laughter. “Maybe we should sit down, make a plan, and see where our first interaction lands us?”
“Mmm. I don’t know,” Grace returned, focus returning to the man eating sand like it was the best stew he’d sampled in his life. “Problem is…accordin’ to my legend, I’m supposed to, eh, kind of solve this…alone? Ugh.”
Butter’s cheer dampened at that, head tilting to the side.
Rachel’s ears remained pointed at the saloon. Even from this distance, she could hear the forced quality of the merriment—people trying to maintain normalcy in the face of something that defied comprehension.
Everyone else was focused on the cowgirl as she explained herself.
“Story says Calamity Jane rode solo to save Deadwood from the pox, and if anyone finds out I had help…”
“The narrative unravels,” Rachel finished, her tactical mind already working through the implications. “But are Legend Quests the same as Fables?” she hummed, glancing toward Scarlet while piecing together what she knew from their past two experiences.
Grace shrugged. “I’m just tellin’ y’all what I know. High Queenie?”
The nickname got a tight-lipped stare from Adoncia, but Butter didn’t seem at all annoyed by it.
“That is one topic I am entirely uninformed about. There is one Legendkin in our group that I know of,” she mused, cupping her chin and glancing off to the side. “Roman and I haven’t had many interactions, unfortunately. So I will defer to your judgment, Rachel!”
Rachel’s smile became curious, continuing to scan the town’s tiny population and hearing more than a few oddities. Still, her mind was picking apart the problem, feeling out misfortune’s threads in real time.
“…I’ve been in two Legend Quests. Actually, my first was more like three or four wrapped into one. Elizabeth’s was also advanced to a Tier-2 difficulty…and I can see that ramping up to that with Butter here. Maybe even Tier-3, but…I’m doubtful,” she muttered with a strained laugh.
The memory of her sole Tier-3 Legend Quest challenge under Dionysus came flooding back. Nia and her bathed under the Blood Moon, demigoddesses, dealing with wolf-like phantoms with their power over death, facing their armies.
“Oh?” Butter inquired with her twinkling aquamarine eyes. “I am sensing a challenge from you, Rachel. I look forward to learning more about these ‘tiers’ you mention when we have time.”
“Sure…” Rachel reached up to rub the base of her left ear. “Honestly, I don’t think Legend Quests truly follow the same rules as Fable Realms’ strict rules. I’ve learned that these quests can be very adaptive. These are essentially real worlds in collapse. All we need to do is prevent that… By any means necessary.”
“I have a solution!” Butter chimed, throwing up her hand like a student too eager to wait to be called upon. “Whether it matters or not, I can simply wipe their memories after we save them. They’ll view our little cowgirl as a goddess, wrapped in gold. A little divine intervention to edit their soul recollections, and voilà—as far as they know, Grace handled everything herself. No harm, no foul!”
Rachel’s ears lifted high as the connection hit her. “These people have souls…unlike Fable Realm citizens. No, that is a stark difference.”
Grace nodded emphatically, but her eyes were vacant, as if not fully following.
Maria looked skeptical. “Hol’ up, chicas. You can just…erase soul memories? That seems like a pretty big deal to treat so casually. That’s a slippery slope.”
“I agree with that. It morally positions us in a rather dark area,” Wakalapi added.
“Ooh. True. True.” Grace nodded again.
“Uh.” Scarlet piped up. “Ahem. A vote?”
Rachel bumped shoulders with her, a small smile on her lips. “In the end, I don’t feel like this changes much either way, but sure. Who is in favor of the memory wipe?”
Raising her hand, she looked around with a bit of surprise:
Butter’s hand wasn’t raised, despite her amiable grin.
“Those in favor:
“Conquest
“Nia, though…I don’t know if you count.”
“Oh, shut up, Major. I’m my own soul, even if we’re intertwined,” she huffed, and Rachel had to put her hands up, realizing she had actually somewhat offended her outfit. “In fact, Nike should also get a vote! The pups, too. And the buns!”
“Fair. My bad… But maybe not in this vote. That’s too much. And that leaves me…and Alexa?”
The tween angel hovered down a little, rubbing her elbow.
“There are things that I wish I were able to forget… In the sorrow beneath, you find the devil in me,” she whispered, eyes closed, hand pressed against her chest as if quoting a bitter poem. “Tear my head apart. A broken life has left me born to burn… Stay forever in the light. I awaken, I arise. I still hear the call of life… I’m taken by the tide.”
“That’s…beautifully tragic, yet filled with the hope of life,” Butter said, as if truly moved. “Hope of the hopeless… A prayer without a prayer. In the hollow between hearts, you find the venom within, yet choose the light. You choose to wipe the memories, though?”
Alexa’s vision fell to the dust before rising to those watching from a distance. “Leaving them with the hope of someone who brought a tide of healing is not depriving them of what happened. It merely turns multiple angles into a single mercy.”
A stillness passed between them as more men and women exited the saloons, most armed and staring at them. It was a warning not to enter the actual town, but Rachel paid them no mind while picking apart her sister-in-law’s words.
I didn’t think she was a poet… Huh. I guess she did a lot more than just watch anime, locked up in Nam’s room.
“…And those Against?
“Butter…
“Maria
“Adoncia.
“Grace.
“Wakalapi.
“And…Scarlet.
“Four to six. The nay’s have it.”
Scarlet showed a pained smile. “Sorry, Rachel, I just…can’t agree to taking anyone’s memory away unless they choose to accept it.”
“No, it’s fine!” Rachel returned, but her response caused a bubbling question to rise to the surface of her mind.
If Scarlet is for full agency…because she feels like she doesn’t have agency, then what does that mean for her awakened self, which pulled countless universes into the Red Sea? Interesting. And what does that say about me, if I’m willing to go through with it, when I’d be vehemently against it being done to me? Huh…
Rolling her neck, Rachel puffed out a short laugh, summoning her hammer to twirl around her wrist before slinging it over her shoulder.
“Okay. I find it a little amusing that you suggested it but voted no.”
“Hmm? Why is that confusing?” the former goddess giggled. “Just because I can do something doesn’t mean it is something I’d enjoy doing. If there were no other way, then I would do it. If there is another way, why do it?”
“Fair enough. Smart, even. You were testing our values and where we’d stand. Quite the dangerous former goddess.”
“Haha. You give me too much credit!”
“Or not enough… Misfortune is turning against us in the short term. Now, what does that mean?” Rachel mumbled, her eclipse eyes drifting to the town as a crowd began to form. “We have our decision, but…it looks like we have company.”
They emerged from alleyways and doorsteps like figures from a fever dream—townspeople whose eyes held no light, whose movements carried the jerky quality of marionettes being manipulated by an inexperienced puppeteer.
Their clothes were frontier-appropriate but wrong in subtle ways: colors that seemed to shift when viewed peripherally, textures that looked like standard fabric but reflected light like scales, boots that made no sound despite clearly striking the wooden boardwalks.
Sand poured from their mouths when they opened them to speak, creating small piles at their feet that somehow remained perfectly conical despite the evening breeze—the sand eater made sense now, and predictably, was among them.
Their voices carried an odd harmonic quality that made Rachel’s ears and tail twitch, reminding her a little of Black Hat—not quite human, but not entirely inhuman either.
Something caught between states, transformed but not completed.
That wasn’t a pleasant comparison.
It was far weaker and more dispersed, but that meant an Eldritch touch.
The question was if they were part of the Ever-Shifting Mists, Crimson Tide…or a new faction, because even Elizabeth’s Legend Quest had been infiltrated by an Eldritch faction.
“She doesn’t belong here,” one of them rasped, sand cascading down his chin as he pointed at Butter with a finger that bent at too many joints. His voice carried undertones of grinding stone and distant thunder. “The Golden One—the Spirit of Conquest—brings change, but this place is already perfect in its imperfection. The experiment requires stasis, not evolution.”
“The tracks sing of her coming,” another added, tilting her head at an unnatural angle that would have snapped a normal person’s neck—by the sound, it did break, then heal.
Her words came out in perfect iambic pentameter, as if something was editing her speech in real-time. “But the Conductor has plans, and plans must be followed to their logical conclusion. All passengers must reach their destination.”
Butter clapped excitedly, popping the tension like a bubble with her enthusiasm.
“You know me?! Oh, that is so heartwarming. You’re offering me a welcoming party. So kind. So thoughtful! But…I must say that I simply do not have the time.”
All of their eyes creased in question as they looked at the blonde, spinning in a slow circle to survey them.
“You see, I’ve already made plans to train these fine souls. Oh, I know!” She twirled back with a brightening smile. “Why don’t we combine parties? Yes. We can all have a truly splendid time. And look how many friends you’ve brought!”
More infected townspeople emerged from hidden spaces, creating a loose circle around their group with movements that suggested coordination without communication. Normal citizens scattered at their approach, some screaming about the ‘pox craze’ had come to their town, others barricading themselves behind whatever shelter they could find.
Rachel could hear the frantic scrambling of families gathering their children, the sound of furniture being dragged against doors, and the whispered prayers that grew more desperate with each passing moment.
“There will be no glad tidings…”
“For evil. Yeah,” Maria huffed, horn shimmering into being and causing them to hiss and retreat slightly.
“The rails run deep through earth and dream,” chanted a child who couldn’t have been more than ten, her innocent face wearing an expression of ancient malevolence. “The rails run true through me and you. The rails run red with those who bled to make the track complete.”
“If it’s a disease, chica. No prob. I can purify ya,” Maria soothed, her hand moving to the cross around her neck with practiced ease. Divine energy began gathering around her fingers in patterns of silver and gold that resembled miniature galaxies. “I got—”
“No, no, no!” Butter interrupted with obvious delight, practically vibrating with excitement as she clapped her hands together. “Like I said. This is perfect! This is exactly the training opportunity I promised. You all need to understand something fundamental about your abilities before we go any further.”
One of the infected lunged forward with inhuman speed, moving like a predator despite the sandy trail leaking from his mouth. Rachel's instincts screamed for her to activate [Lunar Grace], her body already tensing to dodge with supernatural agility, but Butter’s voice cut through her reflexes like a blade.
“Don’t use your Feats! Create your own framework!”
My own framework? Rachel hummed internally, blood beginning to surge as Butter set homework in front of her. Finally, this is what I’ve been waiting for… Peel back some of these Seeds’ secrets!
“What?” Scarlet dodged a grasping hand that left sandy fingerprints on her jacket, her confusion evident in both voice and movement as her blood instinctively almost decapitated the man. She managed to regain control at the last second. “How are we supposed to fight without our abilities? Mine just…react to danger!”
“Aye, chicas,” Maria called out, “I can purify them. No legal—”
“Maria is exactly right. But… No using your Seeds!”
Rachel’s stomach twisted, world slowing to a crawl as a singularity sparked in front of the blonde, and an effulgence of gold exploded outward. Her vision split for half a second, but she felt a colossal force penetrate every defense she had…and formed a box.
[All Feats: Unavailable.]
[Soul Item’s Feats: Locked.]
“Major?!”
It’s fine… This is trial by fire.
Everyone stumbled, curses flying from lips, as the supernova exploded outward. Adoncia and Conquest appeared to be affected by the same restriction. Even the possessed locked up, a radiant shell—similar to the one around Scarlet and her, protecting them from sunlight—seemingly freezing them in place.
Butter lifted into the sky, blinding and now appearing like a true goddess as she channeled her necklace. Rachel’s hammer faded away, seemingly returned to her Core, yet her grin only grew as a challenge pulsed within her—advancement was right in front of her.
“Oh—I can’t block you, Scarlet, so just pretend I did,” she giggled, hands held behind her back as everyone recovered from the shock. “Here is my lesson…”
The blonde explained, her tone taking on the quality of a professor addressing particularly slow students. Even as more infected closed in from all sides, she seemed perfectly relaxed, as if discussing theoretical physics over afternoon tea.
“Your Seeds aren’t giving you power—they’re directing and folding your souls to align with preset values. But the power comes from you! The Seed just acts as a manufacturing plant, building frameworks for execution based on spiritual blueprints. So…create your own!”
Rachel found herself pressed back-to-back with Alexa as her step-sister dropped to the ground, unable to keep her magic-infused flight active.
“Wait, I’ve never used my powers like everyone else!”
“It’s okay, Alexa,” she soothed, as infected townspeople surrounded them in the purple light of the horizon. “Take a deep breath, and focus on the fight ahead of you.”
“I’m not a fighter—ow… Damn it, I bit my tongue.”
Their riddle-speak excited a cacophony of madness that seemed designed to disorient and confuse.
“The iron horse runs on iron rails,” one of the infected chanted, his words falling into the same supernatural rhythm that seemed to affect them all. “But iron rusts and rails decay. Only shadow-tracks eternal stay.”
Rachel glanced to her left, ears tracking every twitch in the chaos—even without access to her Feats, her instincts remained sharp. That told her a lot.
But…Nia was gone.
Did you…
“Vanish? Uh, yeah, Major! Nice of you to notice. I’m locked out of my Feats.”
Well, figure it out!
“What do you think I’m trying to do? It’s like I’m locked into my original body again…”
The magical girl’s wings fluttered nervously against Rachel’s shoulders as Rachel spun to the side, dipping under Alexa, blocking a swipe, and kicking an advancing woman away.
“My Feats are blocked, but not my biology,” she stated, trying to protect her brother’s wife and help her find her rhythm. “The Seed changed our souls, which means we still have all the physical benefits, we just can’t use the infrastructure.”
“Rachel, I’m in the body of a 13-year-old! Wait…are you saying my wings are still as sharp as knives?”
“Uh, I didn’t know that, but thanks for the update,” Rachel snickered, instinctively giving the twitching appendages more space as Scarlet’s blood rippled outward, buying them precious seconds.
She slid in front of Alexa, shouting, “I don’t know how to pretend to be blocked!”
“Oh, but you do,” Butter chimed from above. “You unconsciously pulse spiritual force into your attacks—why do you think you’re hitting harder than anyone else?”
“That doesn’t tell me anything!” Scarlet cried.
Alexa followed that with, “That’s not an explanation, Butter—that’s a fortune cookie! And why won’t they shut up?!”
“The price of passage pays in blood,” another small child choked, sand streaming from her nose as well as her mouth now. “The ticket punched with bone and mud. The conductor smiles and nods his head—another passenger among the dead.”
“Listen carefully,” Butter continued, somehow managing to sound like she was delivering a lecture despite the chaos erupting around them. “Everything around you provides spiritual power that you can access and manipulate.”
A simmering bubble pulsed outward, forcing the snarling forces back as the blonde skipped through the air like it was solid ground, tracing glowing gestures through the sky to illustrate her point.
“The air you breathe is saturated with life essence. The ground beneath your feet carries the spiritual echoes of generations—and the soul of the planet itself. Even the corruption…can be purified, shaped, and harnessed by you, Maria.”
Her hands swept wide, drawing unseen patterns. “The very fabric of existence thrums with power—power you can cultivate, refine, and wield to achieve any feat you desire.
“If you learn to build your own framework—rather than relying on the Seed’s presets—then a whole new universe opens before you.”
An infected man moved slowly through the bubble’s edge, as if walking through water, then swung a rusted pipe at Rachel’s head with enough force to crack her skull.
One word Butter used flashed memories across her mind.
Cultivate?
Her grandfather’s teachings rushed back into clarity.
Without thinking, she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing—slow, controlled inhalations like he’d taught her during those quiet summer afternoons in his garden, when the world had seemed simple and the greatest challenge was remembering the proper sequence of breathing exercises.
Feeling the flow of the air, his voice echoed in her memory, as clear as if he were standing beside her. The breath is the bridge between body and spirit. Inhale the essence of the world, exhale the limitations of the flesh. Find the rhythm that connects all things.
Vision opening, time seemed to hiccup around her, reality stuttering like a film reel with missing frames. The world around her slowed to a crawl—the infected man’s swing moving like molasses…and Rachel stepped aside with normal speed.
[Phantom: Bullet Time], only without the Seed’s help.
Her body moved through the decelerated world with fluid grace. It felt similar to the Feat’s sensation, but different—more fundamental, more connected to her Core essence rather than an external ability being activated.
Twisting low, her leg shot out, knocking the man’s feet out from under him. But the world swiftly sped up again, making her wince as he hit the ground and her heart pounded furiously.
Coughing, she shot back up, just in time to see Scarlet’s blood whip around and scoop the man up, hurling him out of the bubble’s edge. Wakalapi had found his stride too—smoke curled from his pipe like living strands, constricting the snarling infected around him.
Conquest didn’t even move. She simply stared, then spoke a single word:
“Kneel.”
Every infected near her dropped, trembling. Sand leaked from their mouths as a silver aura wrapped around them.
Scarlet’s red eyes were wide. Several others turned their attention toward Rachel—not the blonde—for answers.
Nia was the first to break the silence.
“How did you do that? I felt that rush—you fused it into me, too. How?”
Probably because our souls are intertwined… Just a byproduct of our unified Core system, is my guess. It’s about finding a balance to feel the pathway to your center. Eh… My grandfather taught me it.
“Say less. I’m going through your memory to find those teachings. Be right back…”
Haha! Cheater.
“How?!” Alexa mirrored what was on everyone’s faces—including Adoncia’s.
Straightening, Rachel placed a hand against her chest, trying to calm her nervous system as it fluttered—sweat already beading beneath her arms.
“Control your breathing,” she murmured, her heartbeat gradually slowing. “It’s like my grandfather’s cultivation techniques—neidan and waidan. Use the air as a medium to feel the spiritual force inside your body. Once you can sense that flow…you can begin to shape it.”
“Brilliant!” Butter clapped, just as Adoncia stumbled backward—barely dodging a swipe. The oni maid’s cheeks would definitely be burning.
“That’s a wonderfully sophisticated approach! I must steal that—it grounds the abstract in physical practice. Makes it accessible to people with a more material understanding of existence. And you’re entirely right.
“Learn to breathe, students!
“Rachel, want to take it from here?”
Rachel rolled her neck, feeling as though she were stretching new muscles deep inside her Core. A grin spread across her face.
“Gladly.”
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