Callan groaned loudly and stretched his arms out; hitting the campfire. He turned his body to the side until he dropped to his face. After a few seconds, he stood up and stretched his back. He yawned.
Callan held his back as he walked to the leaves. He placed his hand in the middle and opened his self-made leaf blinds, instantly blinding him. “Ughh…”
That was the first time Callan slept in such a tight place. “I didn’t know I could get this bad from sleeping again. It’s been so long!” Callan brushed his eyes and looked at the unchanging ocean. It felt like an image made by a green screen.
“Just feels like an amazing painting.” Callan turned around until a slight disturbance in the painting appeared just at the corner of his eyes. He whiplashed his head back again and… it was raining.
“Oh wow… I didn’t even know weather could happen, there was no water in the clouds… where the fuck are these rain coming from?” Callan’s exhaustion disappeared instantly.
The water had finally begun to ripple and weirdly enough it was beautiful. The multiple taps of the rain on the ice, make it sound like a Christmas jingle played in glass.
“Such a beautiful sound! Oh God! It’s giving me so much energy! This is music to my ears!” Callan already had a routine he wanted to follow before he even entered the fourth floor.
The first of that routine was a simple exercise. It was: 250 one-hand push-ups, on each hand. 100 one-leg squats or also known as a pistol squat, Callan just didn’t know that. 300 Curl-Ups.
It was missing a run to really be what he referenced it from, but based on a snow area, Callan concluded it would have been hard to efficiently achieve such a thing. But, now that he knows the ground is actually made of mostly ice, it was actually possible.
“Can I do 100 miles? Hmm… I can… but it will take way too long, just, also I have no way to measure that! Then 50 times circling the mountain it is!”
Callan dropped down to the ground and started his push-ups, doing one every second. After just 10 minutes he was already done. “Hmmm… wasn’t enough… I didn’t really test it… but 250?”
After he defeated the third floor once again, he leveled up and figured out the pattern for the most part.
[Callan Satchel]
[Level: 6]
[Strength: 31]
[Agility: 31]
[Endurance: 31]
[Magic: 36]
Callan’s stats are gained through a simple pattern of three numbers, 3,4, and 8. Whatever the reason may be, that was his stat growth.
He didn’t really know the normal stat growth of people, but Callan knew that 8 should be basically two level-ups already.
Now, why was he thinking about his stats? It was simple, if he was originally 1 stat point in strength, that just meant humans are that weak.
When he gained the 4 stats, he was already able to perform like an athlete. So, then 31 divided by 4 was roughly the multiplied amount of strength Callan had over normal humans. Which was roughly 8 times stronger.
“Hmm… so if some people can even do 1000 pushups in a few hours… I should just do 1000 pushups and see where I go, actually, I need to see my limit, if not, my stats will never grow.” Callan dropped back down to the ground and continued for another 1000 push-ups each.
Unlike other games or maybe stories with Status Screens, leveling up or increasing your level would be incredibly easy, but that wasn’t the case in The Endless Tower.
The first time Callan ingested Magic, he threw up immediately, either it was due to cleansing his body or it was too much, the answer is much closer to the latter.
That meant only one thing, Callan had to push his body, the body which is already far too strong for a human, The exercises needed for his stats to increase, were not going to be easy in any perceivable way.
It didn’t even take an hour and Callan was already finished. He wasn’t very tired, though he finally shed a sweat. But, that doesn’t mean it was not challenging to keep up with his constant pace.
Keep in mind, Callan was inside a mountain literally covered in snow, he may not feel the cold for some reason, but there definitely should be an explanation he wasn’t sweating.
But, the Endless Tower’s weird mechanics aside, Callan decided to take a few minutes of breaks and sat on the edge of his cave, under the rainy bright sky.
“Hah… this is just the first day… I haven’t even touched my spear yet… but… I already feel like… I don’t know. I don’t know…”
Life was not going to be easy, Callan was able to focus on his repeated task, that was his whole special thing, but sadly, maybe that loneliness may swallow him sooner than expected.
***
Half a year had already gone by and Callan didn’t even notice the time. His routine had changed from his tiny numbers to adding two zeros to his original numbers.
“Swing down, swing right, swing left, swing up, spin the spear around the body. Repeat! Swing do-” Callan stood on the ice, making scratches from the wind released by his rapid movements.
“Hah… Finally finished for the day. Man, I really hope my strength and agility stats have increased.” He said, completely ignoring the endurance stat.
Callan sat down on the ice, facing the mountain. He laid down and rested his head on his arms. “I’ve been practicing the spear for a short time now, and I really feel so comfortable with it already… but, I just don’t know how to make a weapon art or any of those styles.”
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
Callan thought about the multiple cultivation stories he had read. They are incredible people who have mastered the thing called a weapon. Allowing themselves to really explore the grand strength of weaponry.
That is what martial artists mostly are. But, even their martial arts were not original. Most have a history of martial arts starting from referencing animals they have seen fight.
Then, it improves through fighting, losses, and many different factors. However, the main thing Callan was concerned about was… the body.
Martial artists know their bodies and everything there is to know about it. That is how they could create sophisticated practices to improve every part of it. Whether it’s a xianxia or wuxia, it is a common idea to reach maximum mastery of literally anything.
That type of thing took years… Callan, despite his strength, feated his age. He was still human in an actual sense. There was never going to be a way for him to reach such lengths… well, other than confirming he could not age. It wouldn’t be far-fetched, he already doesn’t poop nor pee, but he does need food for some reason.
Callan closed his eyes and felt the magic coursing through his body. Of course, he felt nothing like always, but he just imagined feeling something, imagining the magic would actually make him feel something.
He collected them all to his chest. Every single one he could, until he could not imagine anymore. His chest started to feel like it’s bloated. Callan wanted to look, but he didn’t want to ruin his focus.
He pulled a small thread from his… well, let’s just call it, his core. Callan dragged the thread to his heart and pierced it into his veins. He just imagined the magic flowing through all his veins, leaving it up to loose control over a precise one that could also precisely kill him.
Callan spread his magic throughout his entire body. It didn’t feel like anything but he believed and so he continued. Then he just felt a random small pain, like a pinch. He calmed down and opened his eyes.
“I don’t know what I did… but if it was useless… then I’ll just have to fix it.”
***
3 more months.
Callan was able to incorporate a couple of hours of meditation meant for circulating his magic through his entire body. After some trial and error, he was able to properly achieve some harmony in his body, allowing his strength to increase by a significant level.
Though, Callan punched the edge of the ice as hard as he could with his left hand. The ice exploded, flying everywhere, after the short moment of spark, his hand was left bloodied with multiple holes revealing his bones. “Tsk.” He grinned his teeth from the pain.
“It’s still way too fucking dangerous.” Callan may have increased his strength, but as the term qi-deviation exists in the murim, it was like that, but more of suffering from success. His body already couldn’t handle using magic to explode the floor in the white void, but doing that with his body? It was impossible to get out unscathed.
Callan got back to a lotus position and started his morning meditation. He named this technique, “Exploding Mana Circulation.” A little embarrassing, but it fits the theme… whatever theme that was.
***
Another 3 months later.
Callan had already forgotten the concept of time, even skipping sleep for 4 days and thinking one had just passed.
He officially passed the one-year mark of the first promise. Callan stood on the ground facing a giant hole inside the mountain. Like a giant worm went up the mountain.
To his left and right existed multiple other holes varying in size. He walked to the furthest left and stood at a spot still full of snow and had no hole.
|Spear Art: First Movement - Concentrated Point|
Callan tightly held the spear with both his hands, placing them on his left side. He widened his legs and crouched a few inches down. He slowly inhaled deeply… and struck, blowing a hole bigger than him.
“The more I do this, the more I think it should just be a rising dragon.”
***
7 months later.
“Woohooooo!!!” Callan came to view from above the sky. His entire body enveloped by his magic, dropped into the water. “Fuck! That was fun!”
***
4 months later.
With his feet coated with magic, he walked above the snow, his feet like a feather. With a body stood straight despite the steepness of the mountain. Callan walked up with his body slanted, defying gravity with just his core strength.
***
2 months later.
“Prototype 17.” Callan held his clothes up and stared at them. Despite the long time he had been in the snowy mountain and the lack of any actual knitting equipment, he had to cut the boar’s skin precisely into an actual shirt.
In the process, Callan had obtained incredibly unnecessary skill at butchering animals, though it did increase his crafting and knife skills. Going through way too many broken knives and a long process of studying a boar''s anatomy and even making his own ruler. Callan was exhausted, but now he had upper clothing… well… the bottom one is for the future.
***
5 months later.
“Welp, good morning self.”
At a constant rate, Callan had already gone insane. Every time he finished his training routine, without even his knowledge he would just dig into the mountain without realizing he was.
It was a somewhat good thing though, he was able to just use the sudden teleportation inside a dark cave as his mark for a new day.
Though, he was already insane, so he just treated his “episodes” as a very normal thing.
***
2 months later.
After a long time of meditation, Callan didn’t even need to sit in a lotus position to imagine magic coursing through his body. It had turned into a habit and it wasn’t much of a good thing.
Due to his over-reliance on his muscle memory, increasing the control over his mind and body had stagnated.
“Okay, it took me a while, but I just realized that… umm… well I have been using magic as part of my everyday life… so I am definitely relying too much on muscle memory. Fuck!”
***
4 months later.
“Seriously, I have been for God knows how long, but I still can’t fucking figure out how to input an element to my magic. How!!! Please! Someone tell me!”
***
8 months later.
Written on a wall were movements in a spear art, carved by Callan.
|Exploding Spear Art: First Movement - Rising Dragon|
|Exploding Spear Art: Second Movement - Splitting Ocean|
|Exploding Spear Art: Third Movement - Laying Air|
|Exploding Spear Art: Fourth Movement - Dancing Troupe|
|Exploding Spear Art: Fifth Movement - Diving Orca|
The leaf-made blinds opened and the campfire was lit. “Yeah, definitely cringe.”
***
3 years later.
Callan opened his leaf-made blinds and he jumped instantly outside. Holding his spear he spun like a drill, flipping his body and landing on the ice without it breaking.
Callan looked up above the clouds, striking the peak. “It’s time.” He said, surrounded by multiple holes of broken ice.