Sitting before a crackling fire, Nero watched the beads of oil dripping off the rendering fat with a dazed expression, his mouth slightly watering.
As it turned out, the degree of corruption within a beast could directly influence the flavor and aroma. Then there was also things like its diet and overall affiliation with things like rot and corpses.
Compared to other Abominations, the diet of the Horned Coney was much more ta. Besides eating a bunch of smaller insects and rodents, they often feasted on the lush grass at the edge of the border with Malady’s Garden.
They were also very docile creatures that weren’t particularly inclined to eat the dead.
With such a diet, their flesh was far more appetizing than the flesh of regular Abominations.
As the at roasted over the flas, Nero found himself unable to form coherent thoughts. So he decided to wait until he had had a bite.
Finally, the at had cooked long enough. Tearing off the thigh of the Horned Coney, he sank his teeth into the muscles.
An explosion of flavors!
Nero’s eyes widened as a teardrop slowly slid down his face.
"So delicious..."
He mumbled between bites, the tears pouring down more frequently.
With a few ravenous bites, he had stripped the entire thing down to the bone.
However, he was not satisfied.
He picked at the other parts of the Abominations until all that was left was a pile of bones.
Only then did he feel partially satiated.
’My appetite is growing.’
That realization filled him with a bit of mixed emotions, but there was nothing he could do about it for now.
Now that he was finished, he could finally think properly.
"The secret to flow and resonance is imagination. Imagination and envisioning work hand in hand, but are not the sa thing."
Imagination is the fire. A dancing fla in the night. Unfiltered and untad. Raw, in a sense, inhibited only by the limitations of the mind— sothing which does not exist.
By imagining the flow of the Ein Sof within him, it already was. But the process of its existence didn’t co from his imagination. In fact, it was quite the opposite.
Its existence was the reason for him imagining it as it was.
A rather befuddling paradox...
Envisioning on the other hand, was a treated forge. A way to channel those wild, raw flas into a focused heat. By envisioning the runes, in a sense, he was channeling the flas of his imagination to produce an inevitability.
It already existed and was independent of him. However, the process of attempting to envision it, is what led to its manifestation.
It was a strange, cyclic process that was both independent and dependent of his mind and soul.
Nero stared at the crackling flas. The way the tongues of fire ran wild was just like that of his imagination.
The glowing runes he could see floating before him was a product of those flas.
The flow of his Ein Sof was realized when imagination is materialized as envisioning.
His realization of the nature of Ein Sof through his taphysical observation was directed related to his discovery of this "flow".
It always existed. From the mont he was born, it had been.
However, his acknowledgent of its existence was what made it prevalent.
Just like how one could realize the existence of a river from the sound of its gushing, or from the light taste of moisture in the air.
It was one and the sa.
And finally, the resonance that existed between an object such as Gungnir and these internal processes that took place within him.
It was the sa as what happened with his use of the skill, Shadow Shift, although the circumstances were a bit different.
For him to use the skill properly, he had to resonate with it.
Its alignnt. His affinity with its elent...
There was to be a connection. It didn’t matter if it was subtle or not.
It had to exist. Only then would he be able to make use of the skill. And with sothing like skill, as long as the initial bond was created, the resonance would only grow with repeated use.
The sa way steue for Gungnir. By aligning the flow of energy within him to resonate with the spear, he would be able to make use of it far more efficiently.
Nero sighed then rose up. He had his al in a small clearing at the center of the desolate town.
Picking the spear up from the fallen branch it rested on, he walked away from his camp area to sowhere a bit more spacious.
Then he began to swing, stab and strike.
The best way to achieve this resonance, was through training and constant practicing.
Gungnir was a beast. It couldn’t be tad through conventional ans.
His muscles buldged as he powered through handling the spear when it beca heavy. However, in doing so, when it beca light, he would lose his balance and end up with a mouthful of sand, his face buried in rubble.
Of course, that was not enough to discourage him.
The more he fell, the more inclined he was to get back up.
Very quickly, he was able to find his rhythm.
Just like with a normal spear, Gungnir had a center of gravity where its weight was concentrated.
However, unlike other weapons, the center of gravity of Gungnir seed to constantly shift along the entire length of the weapon.
Such a strange, whimsical and outright unrealistic thing would have frustrated any other human to the core.
Nero couldn’t deny he was also frustrated.
However, he was also intrigued.
There has to be a deeper reason behind the spear’s nature. One that required he figure it out.
With every swing and thrust, the shifting balance seed to throw him off more and more.
But with each repeated failure ca a smudge of understanding.
Fallon to the ground, Nero let out a sigh.
Evening had co.
The sun was making the final stretch of the journey towards the horizon once again.
He had been at it for hours now.
It was finally ti to take a break.
He took a sip from the Waterskin of Purity then placed the spear down.
He had gotten enough practice with his spear for now.
As night was quickly approaching the ti for him to train his other tools had also co.
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