What is the most essential elent for killing? For fighting, surviving?
The question drifted through the stillness of his mind. Ashan let it settle, turn over, reveal its edges.
Raw strength? A sound body and mind? More mantras or kriyas?
He let each possibility rise, examined it, let it fall.
Perception.
The word settled in his chest, solid and certain. The sight to asure your enemy. The insight to understand their nature.
He regulated his breath, settling into the foundational rhythm that had beco as familiar as his own heartbeat. The ship's rocking beca the pulse of the world, the rise and fall of the waves matching the flow of energy through his channels.
Back to basics.
His chest rose and fell in a asured cadence. Prana coursed through his being, a subtle river invigorating every cell, every fiber. He let his awareness follow it – its paths, its eddies, its steady progress through channels he had mapped a hundred tis.
Life Sense.
He attempted to push its boundary outward. The effort was like straining against immovable stone.
Forget it. He let the attempt fall. Two ters appears to be the Bodnir rank's limit for this.
He turned the sense inward instead. He was a vessel – a strong, steady luminescence pulsing with each breath, each heartbeat. His nadis were visible now, intricate channels through which prana circulated in a continuous, luminous flow.
He maintained this internal observation for a ti, letting the patterns beco familiar.
What if I layer my siddhi upon it? A faint, experintal curl touched his lips.
[Viksana: Analyse]
Greyish‑white whirlpools swirled into existence within his hazel eyes, rimd with flecks of gold.
Now, Life Sense.
His eyes retained their swirling pattern as he activated the secondary perception. Instantly, his awareness shifted. A torrent of information flooded his mind: texture, density, flow‑rate, potential blockages.
Shit!
Previously, Life Sense alone had revealed only the broad architecture of his nadis. Now, with Viksana interwoven, the resolution was staggering. He could see individual currents, the places where they slowed, where they surged.
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I must control the influx. Filter it. He erected ntal barriers, holding the excess at bay. But first… is 'seeing' truly dependent on physical eyes?
Ida Nadi. Pingala Nadi. Sushumna Nadi. With this refined vision, he perceived the concentrated rivers of prana flowing through these primary channels – their potency and pathways clearer than ever before.
He embraced this new, layered sight, using it to deepen his comprehension of the relationship between prana and the nadi system.
After a period of intense study, he deactivated the vision.
My sensory range didn't increase. But the depth and quality of perception within that range have grown exponentially.
He let the thought drift. And that question – seeing without eyes… Could that unlock deeper Bodh within my siddhi?
He pondered the idea but set it aside. Foundation first.
I should continue refining the basic senses.
Soul Sense.
His awareness shifted from his body to his mind. This revealed not the nadis, but the chit sagar – his mind‑sea.
Stable. No anomalies.
The sea of consciousness was placid – a stark contrast to its storm‑tossed state during his struggle for Bodh. A single, tranquil island rested upon an azure expanse. The sky above was clear.
Ashan's consciousness floated at the center of this sea. He clapped his hands – a ntal gesture.
Shine.
From his position, a dark sphere of six sides materialized, its edges sharp, its presence absolute. It expanded, enveloping the entire mind‑sea in a perfect, hexagonal embrace.
It has evolved. Grown more defined.
Crack.
The sphere dissolved into a shower of scintillating light particles. They scattered across the surface, sank into its depths.
Ashan withdrew his gaze.
Next experint.
Again, the greyish‑white vortices swirled. This ti he activated Soul Sense concurrently, letting the two perceptions rge.
With this dual‑layered perception, his view of the chit sagar transford. He could see the currents beneath the surface, the thoughts drifting in the depths, the mories buried in the sedint of years.
He conducted another swift scan. No corruption. No hidden flaws.
As he gazed deeper, mories from both his past and present lives surfaced, overlapping like transparencies. His consciousness drifted near the surface, watching the silent film of two existences intertwine and separate.
A quiet sigh echoed.
Then he directed this enhanced Soul Sense outward, beyond his own body.
What? I can extend the range!
Two ters. Three. Four. Five.
Beads of cold sweat ford on his forehead. Pressure built behind his eyes – a white‑hot brand pressing against the bone.
He could sense Captain Osric now – a bright fla in the darkness, his lips moving soundlessly, his hands steady on the wheel.
I can't sustain this.
He severed the connection.
Ouch!
A gasp escaped him. He clutched his eyes, pressing his palms against the sockets. The pain began to subside, becoming a throbbing ache.
Why was I able to increase the range of Soul Sense, but not Life Sense?
Perhaps my atmic control is inherently stronger than my pranic control. Both divination and charmcasting use atmic urja.
Sigh.
The sigh was weary. The discovery was useful, but it brought no joy.
It's an advantage. But for one following the Samyama marga, a significant imbalance between atmic and pranic mastery is a vulnerability. They must be balanced. Harmonized.
"Ashan! Sun's kissing the horizon. Care for a bite? I've salted fish and liquor that's seen a few winters!" Captain Osric's shout pierced the cabin's quiet.
"I'll pass!"
"Your loss!"
Gritting his teeth against the residual throbbing, Ashan steadied his breathing and his mind. He let the ship's roll anchor him.
He descended into the silent, demanding depths of sadhana, and the world fell away.
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