From Moving Crates to Killing Gods-Chapter 67: Recovery

The entire pattern stabilized in my mind, each intricate detail perfectly aligned, rotating and flowing according to its own internal logic. It was beautiful and complex, it had both order and chaos, but now I understood it completely.

"Mend." I whispered.

The spell activated, and warmth flooded through my body. Not the frantic acceleration of Quickstep or the focused energy of Pulse, but a gentle, pervasive heat that seeped into every muscle, every joint. My body, sore from that morning’s training, responded immediately.

The dull ache in my shoulders faded. The tightness in my calves released. Even the persistent knot in my lower back, a souvenir from my fall after overusing Quickstep, got fixed.

I opened my eyes, gleaming joy. For the first time in months, my body felt completely fresh, as if I’d slept for a week and awakened perfectly rested. I flexed my hands, rolled my shoulders, stretched my legs. No pain. No fatigue. Just pure, healthy energy.

"Holy smokes." I breathed. "It actually worked."

I got up from my bed and started dancing lightly on my toes, marveling at the complete absence of the usual soreness I’d grown accustomed to. This changed everything. No more waiting days for full recovery. No more training through pain. I could push myself to the limit, cast Mend, and be ready to train again within hours instead of days.

That night, I slept better than I had in a while, with the Mend pattern becoming no longer a challenge, but a new tool stored in my memory. Another piece of the arsenal I was building against the wasteland.

The next morning, I headed to the training room with new purpose. With such a nice rest I was sure I could set a new record... maybe.

"You’re looking... energetic today." Kira remarked as I entered. She was working with her vines again, forming them into complex defensive formations that seemed to respond to her thoughts more than her gestures.

"New spell." I explained, stretching my arms above my head. "It reduces recovery time."

Her eyebrows rose slightly. "Useful. Does it work on others, or just yourself?"

I paused, realizing I hadn’t even considered that possibility. "I don’t know. The book doesn’t specify."

"Maybe it’s worth finding out." she suggested. "Especially if we’re ever fighting together."

The thought stuck with me as I began my laps. Fighting together. Not just me against the Corruptors, but all of us, combining our abilities. It was a perspective I hadn’t fully embraced yet, too focused on my own development to see the bigger picture.

I was midway through my running session, about lap seventy, when something unexpected happened. With each stride, I suddenly found myself covering nearly twice the distance I normally would. It wasn’t Quickstep, I hadn’t activated the spell, but something else, something physical. My legs felt much more powerful, launching me forward with each step as if gravity had decreased just for me.

I finished the lap and came to a stop, breathing hard, not from the run itself. Over the past three months, my strength had simply... stopped growing. Maybe it finally gave in?

"Stats." I whispered.

The blue window appeared:

Strength: 10

Agility: 14

Constitution: 13

Intelligence: 14

Wisdom: 5

Luck: 5

Strength had reached level 10. Another threshold crossed.

I experimented with this new development, testing my legs, my arms, my core. The difference was subtle but profound. I felt like I could move more weight with less effort. Jump higher. Throw farther. Hit harder... though I didn’t plan on hitting Corruptors. My muscles responded with a newfound explosiveness that transformed ordinary movements into something more powerful.

The coming weeks revealed the full extent of this change. When helping Finn move supplies for Mia and the girls, I could carry three times what I’d managed before. The number of laps I could do increased too. Every physical task required less effort, less strain.

Four months after beginning to work on Mend, my progress had exceeded even my most optimistic expectations. The combination of accelerated recovery and increased strength had transformed my training regimen. What once took days now took hours. What once seemed impossible now felt merely challenging.

My stats reflected this growth:

Strength: 11

Agility: 14

Constitution: 13

Intelligence: 14

Wisdom: 5

Luck: 5

But one thing troubled me. Despite everything, despite the punishing running sessions, and the constant practice of Quickstep, my Agility and my Intelligence had remained stubbornly fixed at 14 for the past two months. They refused to cross the threshold to 15, no matter how I pushed myself.

I sat in the library one evening, the field magic book open in my lap, though my thoughts were elsewhere. I kept repeating the same question over and over in my mind. Why did each new threshold feel harder to reach than the last? The numbers climbed steadily, in a predictable way, until they hit another wall.

"There must be something I’m missing." I murmured, tapping my fingers against the table. "Some aspect of the System I don’t understand."

The stats weren’t just numbers, they represented genuine transformations in my capabilities. Each threshold crossed had marked a fundamental change in how my body and mind operated. But what determines when a stat increases? It couldn’t be just repetition or effort, I’d spent far too much time on agility and intelligence training.

Was it quality of effort rather than quantity? Novelty of challenge? Or something even more obscure, some hidden criteria the System used to judge worthiness for advancement?

I closed the book with a sigh. Four months of intense training had brought me closer to what I needed to be, but the plateau reminded me that linear progress wasn’t guaranteed. There were still secrets to uncover, fundamental aspects of this reality I didn’t understand.

Eight months until the next Exile had become four. It was August now. Time continued its relentless march, and I still wasn’t sure if all my progress would be enough when the moment came. But I was closer. Stronger. More capable than I ever thought I would be.

And I had no intention of stopping.