Above the Blood Moon

The priest looked at him for a while, his gaze calm, but Jockley felt that all his secrets had been seen through.

"Reach out your hand," the priest said.

Jockley reached out his hand, and the priest reached out and grasped his wrist. Then the priest closed his eyes, and Jockley felt a warm energy coming from the priest's palm, flowing up his arm and throughout his body.

The fatigue and lingering pain that remained after the energy reached began to subside, and my mind became much clearer.

A few seconds later, the priest opened his eyes.

"You used blasphemy, and you used it while your powers were activated."

Jockley opened his mouth, wanting to explain, but didn't know where to begin.

"You don't need to explain anything to me," the priest released his grip and leaned back in his chair. "In the Forgotten City, everyone has secrets they don't want to tell, but Jockley has something to tell you."

His tone became serious.

"Superpowers are not toys, and blasphemy is even less so."

If you have no reverence for them, they will devour you. You are only at level one now, and in theory you should not be exposed to the pollution at the level of whispers at all.

But because you used blasphemous substances, and while you were in a supernatural state, that contamination has seeped into the depths of your consciousness.

Jockley felt his palms starting to sweat.

"What should we do then?"

"Two options." The priest held up two fingers. "First, stay completely away from superpowers and blasphemy, and live like an ordinary person. But you've already awakened, so that path is no longer viable."

The second is learning control, learning reverence, and learning to find a balance between power and madness.

The priest picked up the little red book on the table, turned to a certain page, and pushed it over. On the page was a handwritten text, the handwriting was neat, but the ink had faded a bit.

"Nothing can be done well if you are impatient; you need great perseverance and patience to achieve final victory. This waiting process is painful, but the turning point often comes in the final moments of perseverance."

"Everyone in the Forgotten City has their own purpose to explore. Take your time, child."

Jockley stared at that passage for a long time.

The words "Walk slowly" were like a bucket of cold water poured on his anxious heart.

"I..." He raised his head, as if to say something.

But the priest had already stood up. He walked over to the bar and called out to Art.

Art was squatting on the ground checking Daikiri's head for any bumps when he heard the sound, so he stood up.

"What's wrong?"

"If you have some free time recently, give these two kids a lesson in parrying and combat skills, just the basics will do."

Art raised an eyebrow.

"Training? Sure, but—"

He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and smiled.

"Private lessons are not free, you know."

The priest remained noncommittal and turned to walk towards the kitchen. Daikiri got up from the ground, rubbed his head, and muttered under his breath.

"They're obsessed with money..."

Att pulled a Covenant coin from his pocket, flicked his finger, and the coin flew in an arc, hitting Daikiri squarely on the forehead with a dull thud.

Daikiri: "...I'll shut up."

Training began that afternoon.

The priest stayed at the tavern to mind the business. Although his black robes made him look a bit out of place when he was mixing drinks, his skills were surprisingly good, at least he didn't scare away the customers.

Art then led Jockley and Daikiri to an abandoned training ground on the edge of the ruins town.

This place may have been a security training facility for a company before. It's now abandoned, but the basic obstacles and simulated combat area are still there. Although it's dilapidated, it's still usable.

"Stand still," Art said.

Jockley and Dekiri immediately straightened up.

Art took two combat chips out of his briefcase.

"This is a combat aid chip, an upgraded version, which can directly implant various basic combat knowledge into your nervous system, such as fighting stances, weapon use, terrain utilization, and so on."

He handed the chip to the two men.

"But please remember that this is just knowledge. Just like reading a book that teaches you how to fight doesn't mean you can actually fight. My training is to help you turn this knowledge into muscle memory, into instinct."

Jockley took the chip; it was very light, almost weightless.

"How do I use it?" he asked.

"Just insert the interface into the nervous system, and the chip will connect automatically."

Jockley did as instructed. The moment the chip touched the interface, he felt a slight stinging pain, followed by a flood of chaotic information rushing into his brain.

Combat stance breakdown diagrams, weapon grip angles, movement footwork trajectories, breathing rhythm control—countless images, texts, and data exploded in his mind.

He groaned and almost fell over. Daikiri next to him was in the same situation; his face was pale and the veins on his forehead were bulging, clearly also suffering from the shock of information.

This process lasted about a minute.

Then the flow of information gradually subsided. The knowledge did not disappear, but rather settled down, requiring time to understand and digest.

"Alright," Art clapped his hands. "Now, let's begin our first lesson."

He paused, his smile gentle.

"Get beaten up."

In the days that followed, Jockley finally understood what hell was.

The training at Atlantis is so rigorous it's almost obsessive.

He required Chokri and Daikiri to get up at six o'clock every morning for two hours of physical training, including obstacle courses, climbing over piles of waste, and avoiding the occasional mutated creatures and scavengers.

Then comes the combat training. Art won't participate himself, but he will use training robots.

Those robots were old models that Atreus had somehow acquired; they moved stiffly, but their strength was terrifying.

Jockley and Daikiri will fight them to learn close combat skills.

The most painful lesson was the parrying class. Art would make them stand in a circle with a diameter of three meters and then throw things at them from all angles.

They couldn't dodge; they could only use the fighting techniques they had learned to block and deflect the force.

After the first day, Jockley was covered in bruises and his arms were so swollen he couldn't lift them. Daikiri wasn't much better off, grumbling under his breath, but he didn't dare to slack off during training. What made Jockley grit his teeth the most was Big Yellow.

This dog somehow got hold of a Red Moon Energy Absorption Plate. It attached the plate to itself, found a comfortable spot to lie down, and started charging.

While charging, he watched Jockley train using those golden optical sensors.

When Jockley is exhausted and sprawled on the ground like a dead dog, an emoticon will pop up on Big Yellow's screen:

"[・ω・]"

or:

"[￣▽￣]"

Jockley really wanted to take it apart, but he didn't have the strength.

However, the progress is real.

Three days later, Jockley was already able to skillfully block most of the things that At threw at him. Five days later, he successfully took down a training robot for the first time in combat training. Seven days later, he even began to "enjoy" the training.

Because of the feeling of breaking through the limits of physical endurance, the feeling of gradually turning the knowledge in the chip into one's own instinct, and that sense of control.

The priest would come occasionally.

He doesn't participate in the training; he just sits on the sidelines and watches. Sometimes he points out problems with Jockley's use of his powers, such as when to activate his powers of perception, when to deactivate them, and how to maintain the most effective state with minimal consumption.

"Superpowers are not a switch, but a stream of water. You have to learn to guide them, not let them wash you away."

Jockley listened attentively and practiced diligently.

He could feel himself getting stronger; it was a solid, slow but real growth.

He gradually integrated into the team, his bickering with Daikiri became a daily routine, and his interactions with At were less reserved than before.

Once, during a training break, Jockley was sitting on the ground drinking water when Art came over and handed him a towel.

"Thanks." Jockley took it and wiped the sweat from his face.

Art sat down next to him and took a sip from the water bottle.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Tired," Jockley said honestly, "but it's good."

Art smiled, remained silent for a moment, and then Jockley suddenly asked.

"At, what did you do before?"

At's smile faded slightly. He didn't answer immediately, but instead looked up into the distance. The ruins of the Desolate Town outside the training ground glowed with a dark red light under the blood moon.

"Ares Corporation. I used to be a combat employee of Ares Corporation, with 50% of my body modified with cybernetics."

Jockley was stunned. Although he didn't know much, Ares Corporation was one of the six major conglomerates in the modified human camp and a giant in the military field. It was surprising that Atreus's past was so prominent.

"Then why..." he asked, stopping halfway through.

Art turned his head and glanced at him, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

"Something happened at home, that's all. Later, I didn't want to work at the company anymore. I used the money I had saved to buy a ticket for a starship and came to the Deep Space Graveyard, thinking of starting over in a different place."

Jockley opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but didn't know what to say.

"Alright." Art suddenly stood up, his fatigue vanished, and he regained his usual gentle but dangerous smile.

"Rest time is over. Those who asked questions during training will receive two extra sets as punishment. Daikiri has to do them too."

Jockley: "...Huh?"

Daikiri wailed from the side, "What does this have to do with me?!"

Art had already picked up the whip; it was a soft training whip that wouldn't hurt your bones, but it would hurt terribly.

"Now, let's begin!"

The sound of a whip whistling through the air rang out.

Jockley and Dekiri jumped up at the same time to begin a new round of training, amidst sweat, panting, and constant pain.

Training continued day after day, and through spending so much time together, for the first time, Jockley felt a strange connection to this place and these people.

A sense of belonging.