Normann wiped some of the viscera off on the torn tunic of the scaldren he just smashed to death. He held his stomach, a large gash from a lucky struck had taken out the entirety of his HP bar and had he not turned when he did, his guts would be on the floor. Worse of all, a tooth was loose. “This was a bad idea,” Lyn said as she stepped up beside him. She had a small cut on her face and a deeper one her arm.

  He grunted as he checked the rest of the pack, ensuring they were dead.

  “You are barely surviving each fight, and these are just regular mobs,” Lyn continued. “We need a full squad to do this dungeon. You’re just brute forcing your way through this.”

  Normann knelt next to the largest one and worked off its vest with free hand, glancing as his AE slowly filled only to drop again as he forced more anima into his gut wound. “You’re not even a-”

  He stood up and yanked it off, thankfully not tearing it. “Why haven’t you manifested your armor yet?”

  “What?” Lyn stepped back as he whipped the vest around to get his good arm through it.

  “You have your Plating right? What was it again, [The Home in Others]?” He pulled his hand away from the wound on his stomach, happy to see all but the top most layers had regrown. The pain of the anima staying there plus the body regrowing itself was something he was growing used to. “Why aren’t you using it? Even at F-rank, it should protect more vital areas, meaning you wouldn't have to block with your arms as much.”

  Lyn stuttered a response as Normann continued to dress in the dead scaldren’s vest. It was solid enough and would give some protection against other attacks. It was massive on him, which felt weird to say, but with another stolen belt and torn cloth, he fastened it closed and tight against him. His bracers were holding well too, even after two fights.

  “It didn’t give me-”

  “Bull,” Normann replied.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Whatever ability or spell a component gives is separate from the physical manifestation of it on the body,” he recited as he continued to harvest various equipment from the dead. If he hadn’t had trouble with forcing anima into their weapons, the giant axe would’ve been extremely useful, but Normann was finding it very difficult to push into and out of his body. His anima refused to leave him, as strong as it was. “The fact that you haven’t manifested your neuoroptics and chassis tells me that you have a terrible teacher at the HoH.”

  “They don’t like it when you call them that,” Lyn said. “and what do you mean manifest?”

  “What? Hoh?” He purposely pronounced it as ‘ho’ again. “What have they taught you?”

  “A lot; it’s just…” she trailed off and looked away, blushing.

  Either Lyn hadn’t been paying attention, which was annoying, or they really hadn’t taught her anything and she was covering for her guild out of some insane idea of loyalty, which was infuriating. Normann took the route of not caring, as it felt more natural. Not caring had always been easier than trying to worry about what had already happened and causing himself more anxiety.

  “Fine,” Normann stood up and walked in front of her, holding his hands out with his palms up. “We’ll start with the basics. When a human accepts the SYSTEM’s offer of a core, they become an operator.”

  “I know this already,” she snapped.

  Normann continued his lecture. “The core modifies a human’s body, augmenting it with anima and allowing it to manipulate the energy to fantastical effects, creating magic. It also enables it to further adapt to components. This is done through two means.”

  She huffed at him and looked down at his hands, which were still dripping blood.

  “Components will change our attributes, improving them slightly at F-rank, but as we increase, these improvements drastically, well, improve. We become stronger, faster, more perceptive, more charismatic. Why did I list only four?”

  “Huh?”

  “Pay attention, Lyn,” Normann said. “Why did I list only four?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Sure you do. Think of the order I gave them.” He glanced at her, but her attention was solely on his hands, as he repeated, “we become stronger, faster, more perceptive, more charismatic.”

  She paused in her answer, biting her lip briefly. “Brawn, Fluidity, Wit, and Presence. Form doesn’t improve from components.”

  “Good,” Normann smiled and she hopped a bit, as though containing excitement from giving the right answer. “Normally, components don’t improve Form, unless an operator becomes some version of a defender, even then its limited. The second method that components improve a human’s body is how they are manifested.” He ignored his outrageous Form. Even if he had a whole set, he shouldn’t be at 6. Not even as a defender. Their components granted passives, abilities, and spells that enabled their survival.

  “We can’t…” Normann pulled a hand back and tapped the center of his chest. A hollow thrum echoed as he drummed along with his heart beat on his core.

  “We already do. Even at F-rank, we can and should manifest our components. How they appear is determined by an operator’s core and the corresponding components, but every operator can and should manifest their components when entering a Rift. The best sentinels do.”

  “How do you do it then?” Normann brought his hands back out and held them palm up for her again. “What are you-”

  “The biggest different between us fighting is that you still have a nearly full amount AE bar when we fight,” he said. “it’s a waste.”

  “I only have a few abilities, and they don’t cost much,” Lyn replied. “So why shouldn’t I?”

  “Have you seen my AE? Watched your HUD as we fought?” She shook her head. “I have had zero AE left when the fight ends, and I’ve run out before we’ve finished each time.”

  “How? You aren’t casting anything.”

  “It’s the same way you manifest your component. Just more economical. Watch.” He forced his anima, taming the storm within him into streams of power that stretched from his core down his arms and into his palms. He forced more and more, his AE dropping fast as he shoved them into his palms.

  “What are you-”

  “Pay attention, Lyn Hills,” he said with a smile, even though smoke slowly rose from his palms. Shoving his anima into a small spot, holding it in place, felt like holding back a speeding truck using only a rope and his bare hands. He strained ot keep the energy there as it forced it to manifest. It fought against him, almost growling and snarling as he shoved it through his bones, his muscles, his skin, to ignite the air.

  Heat flared upward in a powerful flash. Lyn jumped back with a short scream she quickly squashed. Normann let himself fall to knees and sucked in breath after empty breath as he struggled to focus through the pain. He relaxed his grip on his anima. “we are operators. We have anima running through us and it is ours to command. We just have to command it. If we want to use an ability, we simply force our anima to do so. Enchantments are only possible because of the anima we have. While others can crafted create arrays, only operators can truly use them as they were originally meant to be.”

  “How did you do- are you okay?”

  Normann stood up slowly, careful not use his hands, awkwardly flailing at one point. Lyn stepped back. His HP bar spiked down to zero in that display. In his first life, he’d never been great at manifesting his anima. His always felt like digging a well in a desert, hoping to find something that could sate his thirst but always at the risk of finding nothing. With his recursion, he had more coursing throughout his body, ready and willing to act at his command. As much as it fought him against how he used it currently, it wanted to be used. That it was a struggle to use it as he was was a good sign that whatever components he acquired would synergize well. “the SYSTEM uses the word anima. Whether or not it intended to, the word comes from the Latin ‘animus’ meaning soul or spirit. Our anima, that energy you have in side of you, is what makes us operators, not a core. It is a reflection of us, in a way, and figuring it out and utilizing it to the best of our ability is what makes a great Sentinel.”

  “But-” Common propaganda said the best Sentinels were the ones with the best components, which given how random the offerings were this early in the timeline, it made no real sense other than create a false sense of superiority in the few with legendary cores.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “I knew this man, all common components,” Normann said and walked over to Lyn. He reached out and asked wordlessly to take her wrists. She twisted out of it, but let him guide her hands without touching her so she held them palm up like he did. “Had your core in fact. Striker too. Used only abilities, no spells. A very straight forward and simple kit, this man. But he learned how to use it. His systems granted him this sword that looked all rusted and pathetic, could barely cut an F-rank monster.”

  Normann held his hands under hers, palm up, and though the holes in his palms were still knitting themselves, he held steady and looked at her face. “ He was a trash operator at F-rank, struggling to keep up with every pack, nearly dying in every dungeon, delve, and raid he went on. His guildmates saw him as a waste, another body to use as a meatshield against the deadliest of dangers. Most guilds do that, you know? They just few the F-ranks as worthless fodder for the ones they select as the greatest.”

  “Hammer doesn’t-”

  “But he fought,” Normann continued. “He kept fighting. Barely any of his guildmates understood why and mocked him for trying so hard to rank up. He signed up and fought in every Rift he could, even when it was supposedly a bad match up. But they were all bad for him, right? He was a pathetic F-rank who wouldn’t ever reach the pinnacle of greatness. Nearly forty percent of all F-rank operators never reach E-rank. Sixty percent of E never approach D. The ratios grow worse form there.”

  “When did he die?”

  “Who said he died?” Normann said with a smile. He wasn’t certain if Lucas did die, at least not before he came back. “He learned and grew smarter; found this simple trick and suddenly he became this reaper, a flickering slash and a monster would die to his rusty sword. Grew to become S-rank at that. One of the best, if not best swordsman in the world too. Watching him fight was like watching a prima donna ballerina dance, seeing a master at their peak. No one could touch him as he wove in and out of enemies, cutting them down with a blunt instrument simply because he could. He was a bastion of light on the field, a glow to follow.”

  “Anima manipulation?” Lyn asked.

  “Correct. He learned how to manipulate his anima.”

  “Only higher ranks can do that,” Lyn said.

  “No, higher ranks should have a better sense of their anima, but even F-ranks can do it. And every rank should be able to manifest their components. Especially their plating.”

  “You haven’t explained how.”

  “What have I been explaining,” Normann asked.

  “You’ve been talking about what our cores do to our bodies and how it changes because of anima. Then you went on some tangent about a guy who clearly is made up because everyone would have heard of a sentinel like that.”

  Not made up, but not famous yet. Lucas Doyle had been one of the first operators in America after the Topeka Incident; he survived a series of Rift breaches in California and probably was already C-rank, despite the challenges he faced in learning his own methods and style. He would still be perfecting his technique, but he was one of the more dangerous operators in North America, if not all of the Northern hemisphere. “We manipulate our anima to cast spells and use abilities all the time. Why can’t we manipulate it whenever we want.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “A spell is nothing more than easily replicated pathway that has already been carved for your anima. Your components give you that pathway subconsciously and let you manipulate your anima to cause a very specific effect. Enchantments do the same thing. They provide a blueprint for how anima can be moved and twisted to create a singular outcome. The fact is, anima is what enables magic. Despite what you’ve been told, we don’t have magic in us. We create magic. We have a simple energy that courses through us and can alter reality to match a preconceived design. Now, why did I tell you this?”

  “Because you were showing off?” He didn’t laugh at her sheepish grin. “Sorry.”

  “Answer the question, Lyn. Why did I just talk about my friend? Why did I add in that bit about how our components and enchantments guide how anima is?”

  “You’re saying they are connected?” He nodded. “Then it has something to do with how our components guide the anima usage beyond spells and abilities. It has to guide how they manifest.” She trailed off briefly before continuing, her voice now rushed and excited. “So that means they also provide a pathway for how to manifest themselves. At higher ranks, those pathways must be easier to notice, or our senses become better and we finally notice them.”

  “Bit of A, bit of B,” Normann replied. “What matters though is that it can be done at F-rank. Takes some practice, but any operator can learn how.”

  “So it uses your anima, like a spell or ability would?”

  “Yes, but not like a spell. It’s more like the filling in the blanks rather than following what is already there.” She gave him a confused look, shaking her head. “Can you feel your anima? Everyone’s is different, though its mostly determined by your core, what is it should feel like. [Bringer of Dawn] should be an aggressive, straight forward sensation, at least from what I’m told. Start there, figure out how your anima feels. Close your eyes, and turn your attention inward and focus on that the sensation of power. It’s somewhere in you; I’d suggest starting around your core, but that’s not always the case.”

  Lyn closed her eyes and relaxed, her hands dropping. He pulled his to his side and stepped back from her. It was a better use of their time if she focused on that then anything else. Not that Normann disliked Lyn as a squad mate, but her relatively ‘newbie’ status hindered their progress more than anything. She was still squeamish around the dead, something she’d have to get over fairly fast. While she worked on identifying the well of power within her, he still needed to check the bodies if anything was valuable, salvage anything he could for his armor. He also glanced at the timer for the dungeon:

  Three packs of mobs down and and almost an hour with it. Most of the time spent came from waiting for him to heal. The gash on his stomach was gone, but he needed better protection until he acquired his plating.

  Ten minutes passed before Lyn shouted, “I got it! Oh wait, damn it. no.”

  Normann smiled and finished affixing the scraps of leather together with cord stolen from the dead. He hastily constructed a patch of armor for his back on the vest, layering it with additional leather pieces. “It takes time, and even sensing it in ten minutes isn’t bad.”

  “We’ve wasted ten minutes?”

  “No, you’ve been practicing and I’ve been recovering and getting ready for the boss.”

  “But I didn’t-”

  “I didn’t expect you to. This isn’t something you pick up in ten minutes and master instantly. It isn’t driving a car. My friend equated it to blind surgery.” He walked over to her and held out two spear tips, the shafts broken off leaving only a hand hold left on each.

  “What are these?” She asked.

  “Give me your knives,” Normann said.

  “Why? They’re dungeon made.”

  He shook his head. “The blades may be, probably some forged metal but the grips aren’t. They are made from modern plastics and leather. Until you become good enough it doesn’t matter, you need real dungeon-crafted items. These will do.”

  “That doesn’t-”

  “It’ll also help you with your anima, how you channel it,” he continued. “You’re not aware enough or strong enough to force your anima through what you currently have. It’ll take more than one ten minute session, so you’re going to practice as we fight.”

  “I can’t-”

  “You’ll have to if you want to live. You can’t depend on others to constantly keep you alive. You have skills yes. But those skills will fail you if you don’t keep pushing. Talent only goes so far.” She stared at the spear heads before taking them. “Keep your old ones, too. Don’t know when they might be useful.”

  Lyn remained silent as she stared at the makeshift knives in her hands. Normann walked back over to the pile of corpses and picked up on other spear. He had brought it with them from the previous room, but dropped it before the fight started. He’d been lucky that this pack had two spears in it as well. “If you want to figure out how to manifest your plating and chassis, you’ll need more practice. In real conditions.”

  He rested the spear on his shoulder and turned back to her, giving her a soft smile. “Let me show you.”

  “Huh?”

  “First boss is next. Let’s go.”