6 Damn! That Was Intense!
[===== 5 Years Later =====]
Troy knew that there was always a chance that he could try and persuade the Sorcerers to let him forgo his Witcher training and simply allow him to focus on becoming a sorcerer. This was, however, an incredibly slim probability. Sorcerers don't typically take in and spend their time and resources on those that haven't had conduit moments.
He knew the only reason they even bothered to offer him such an opportunity is because of him displaying his unique circumstances to them and the fact that he was already training to be a witcher.
Not to mention, that learning magic wouldn't be able to help him through his trials. Thus whether he passed them or not would be based solely on his own resilience and preparedness.
This was why he made sure to rise earlier than the others to get in extra exercise and stayed up later than the others to practice signs and study magic.
He knew the Universe into which he had been reincarnated was a tremendously dangerous one and his overriding principle, for now anyways, was to become powerful as quickly as possible.
The witchers training and the subsequent trials were the quickest path that he knew of, even if it was treacherous and uncertain. Fruits were not born from nothing. He needed to take chances and sacrifice, in order to obtain the greatest rewards.
Thus, for the past five years he had worked his ass off to be the best pre-trial trainee there ever was and for the most part he succeeded. He was undoubtedly in the top of his class. Whether he was the absolute best or not wasn't so certain.
There were very few of the other trainees who didn't quickly realize how dedicated he was to his training. A few of them, specifically Patrov and Jorgen, had made themselves his rivals and saw his enthusiasm and raised him.
It wasn't easy for Troy keeping up with those kids, despite being a kid himself. He persevered, however, and he was now easily one of the best, if not the best in just about every aspect of their training.
His body had been sculpted and toned into quite the specimen. For an eleven year old kid, he looked almost full grown, being a good inch and half taller than his tallest peer.
All of this extra effort, however, did eventually take its toll on his health. Troy, of course, was well aware that such a thing would probably happen and prepared himself accordingly.
Before any of the trainees went through their trials, the witchers would always let them know well in advance. A year ago, the witchers had informed him that he would be put to the trials in exactly one year. As such, the extra effort he had been putting into his physical training stopped six months ago.
His magical learning and sign training he also slowed down quite a bit. The time had come for him to let his body recuperate from the hell he had been putting it through.
Three months ago, he had once again turned his training pace back up but only for short periods of a few days, at which point he would slip into the normal routine.
One month ago, he had finally returned completely to his normal training. He wanted to make sure he was in top condition for his upcoming trials and being exhausted, worn out, and overstressed wouldn't be of any help.
During these past five years, he had learned as much about Magical Theory as a wizard trainee could possibly learn. There was very little magical knowledge left for him to discover, until he actually began the actual practice of controlling Chaos.
His signs, all of them, had progressed well into the advanced stages, wherein he was taught to not only use the signs to activate their alternative manifestations but he had to actively switch between different manifestations. Keeping the power the signs produced active for a longer duration and increasing the potency of the sign's effects were also part of his advanced training in the subject.
Needless to say, the mages of Kaer Morhen considered him to be something of a prodigy when it came to signs. Not only was his performance in all of his training exceptional, he had also continued to practice the fundamentals of the signs, so as to be able to perform them faster. He could easily manifest any of his signs in a little over a second.
About four months ago, he had decided that, if a year after going through his first trial he still hadn't yet had his conduit moment, he would go and begin his practice. He really was hoping for a conduit moment but, if all the training and even the trials couldn't put him in a sufficiently desperate situation to trigger one, then he was willing to acknowledge that he probably wasn't going to have one.
His first trial, the Trial of Grasses, would be held tomorrow. He was both looking forward to it and not looking forward to it. He knew how absurdly dangerous it was but yet it was the only quick path to power. Power that he desperately needed and would do almost anything to obtain.
'Tomorrow... Tomorrow we'll see, if I have what it takes to truly thrive in the Witcher Universe.' Troy thought, just before he drifted off to sleep.
[===== The Next Day =====]
Lorkin pushed open the door to the trainee's sleeping quarters. Unsurprisingly, Troy was there, kneeling beside his cot, meditating.
"Alright then, Troy. Today's the day. No reason to mess about. Follow me." Lorkin informed him.
Troy didn't respond. He simply stood up and followed Lorkin down the hallway and up the stairs.
Kaer Morhen couldn't be said to be a cheerful place but anytime trainees were being put through their trials, it was simply a different place. It wasn't unheard of for witchers to joke around or give a friend a warm greeting but not today. Just not today. The trials were something that everyone at Kaer Morhen took deadly seriously, because the trials were deadly serious.
The Trial of Grasses was meant to mutate the trainee's nervous system, to give them superior reflexes and senses. Troy had poured over all of the information from his previous life concerning the nervous system and how it interacted with the rest of the body. He had spent the last few weeks of meditation organizing everything he knew about how it should be, the process of the mutations, and the end result.
Once it was all organized, he would repeatedly run through all of it over and over again. He had completely familiarized himself, with every detail he knew about the process.
Troy allowed himself to be strapped onto the hard wooden table. He watched calmly, as the mage in charge of administering the trial stepped up to the first boy and injected the concoction into his veins.
Immediately after the syringe had been emptied, the boy let loose a deafening wail. He began screaming hysterically and his body began convulsing wildly.
The mage ignored the boy's suffering, his battle was his own. The boy could rely only on his own power to pull him through this hellish process.
Moving onto the next boy, the mage once again emptied his syringe and yet another agonizing voice was added to the torturous melody.
Three more voices soon joined in and the mage stood before Troy. Troy wasn't at all unnerved by the scene before him. Nine straight months of meditation and continued practice after that hadn't been for nothing. His mind was not so easily moved, much less broken.
The physical pain that resulted from the actual injection. That was something entirely different. Something he knew he couldn't resist. Persevere through it? Possibly. But, once that concoction entered his veins, he knew he would be taught the true meaning of hell.
The mage refilled his syringe. Calm. The mage grabbed his arm. Calm. Troy felt the a slight pressure, presumably some minor spell, making his veins more noticeable. Calm. The mage pierced his skin with the syringe. Calm. The mage forced the plunger down, forcing the concoction into his veins. Ca…
PAIN! PAIN! PAIN! ITCHING! SCRATCHING! BURNING! SLICING! IMPACTING! PIERCING! BLEEDING! PAIN! PAIN! PAIN!
His body was pain! His life was pain! His world was pain! His existence was pain! He was pain and pain was him!
His insides! His outsides! What was the difference?! How could there be a difference?! They were all pain!
PAIN! PAIN! PAIN!
…
…
...
In a tiny minuscule portion of Troy's mind, bloomed a thing that was not pain. As soon as that thing appeared, Troy noticed it. Yet, focusing on it was much easier said than done, since only a moment ago he was simply pain.
He couldn't be certain how long he struggled to focus on the thing that wasn't pain but, however long it took, he eventually mustered up enough strength to see past the pain and into the not pain.
When he did, he quickly recognized it. It was his calm. It was actually larger than it looked, it had simply become tainted by all of the surrounding pain. Thus, the small portion of his calm that still remained calm was even more depressingly small than the pitiful amount of space collectively occupied by what was his original calm.
Troy knew very little other than pain but part of that very little was that his calm was his salvation. If he ever wished to be something other than pain he must cling to his calm with all his might.
Knowing this one thing to be the one truth holding his existence together, Troy began a fierce battle against the pain that he had become. He had seen his salvation and he refused to let it go.
On and on he struggled against his pain and he soon drew close enough to the calm that he could touch it. As soon as he did, however, a new threat emerged.
Before, he had been pain and was still pain. He had only managed to touch calm for a single instance. If he wanted to be calm, he would have an entirely new struggle ahead of him, in order to rid himself of his pain.
He never got the chance. As soon as the calm was within his grasp, hatred appeared. Rage appeared. Vengeance appeared. Spite appeared.
Pain wasn't rational or irrational. Pain was blinding, smothering, and ironically numbing. Pain denied the existence of everything that wasn't it but then there was calm. Before calm could prevail pain's hold over Troy's existence had been broken.
The irrational was now free to join the frey. Troy now had more enemies and they were relentless. Having only just arrived at the battlefield, his emotions were ravenous and desperately trying to claim their own little piece of Troy's fragile existence.
His new enemies, though weakening the hold that pain had over him, were desperately seeking to tear him away from his calm.
Troy, having already acknowledged his calm as his salvation, put everything he had into shaking off these new assailants. He latched desperately onto his calm and pulled for all he was worth.
Finally! He managed to drag a small piece of himself into his calm. His battle, however, was not yet over. He continued to struggle with his pain and his emotions for what seemed like ages.
At some point, Troy realized that he had done it. He had managed to completely enter his calm, only to discover that his pain and his emotions were there with him.
Of course, they would be. They were part of him, after all. They may be temporarily out of balance but they were all still very much a part of his existence, especially, his emotions. If not for them, he may very well have ended up as pain for all of eternity, or so it seemed.
He had managed to reach his calm but it had been tainted by pain and that taint was continuing to spread. Even if he had gotten inside, what good would it be, if it was no different than the outside?
Now that he was inside his calm, he finally had a chance to piece things together. His emotions, however irrational, were protecting him from his pain. They were also trying to overwhelm and possess him and absolutely would, if given the chance. Yet, their presence suppressed the power of pain.
Suddenly, it dawned on him what he needed to do. His emotions were truly irrational, certainly. He had no reason to feel any of these things yet they managed to manifest nonetheless. He had volunteered for this treatment. He knew and accepted the cruel nature of the world. Yet, these emotions, precisely because they were irrational manifested, despite him knowing their true nature.
On top of all this, they were actually providing him with a tangible benefit. Thus, he could only perceive these emotions as a manifestation of his power. Be it magic or what have you? These emotions sprang forth in his time of need and, due to the quiet calm that he had meticulously cultivated over the years, there were very few people more proficient in controlling their emotions than himself. Troy the Hella Badass Wizard Witcher!
'Well, maybe not a Wizard, yet, but I'll get there eventually.' And with that last thought, Troy cast aside everything else, delved deeper into his memories for the knowledge that he had so meticulously organized, and then connected with those emotions.
Wielding absolute control over those irrational existences, he then set them to the task that he knew had to be accomplished.
-----
The witchers and mages were all paying close attention to the boys currently strapped to the wooden tables, in front of them. This was always a process that took several days. Some, of course, died sooner than others but those who survived had to hang on for quite some time before the process was completed, sometimes upwards of a week.
Nazad didn't always attend the trials. There were many things that needed to be done around the keep and, being part of his branch's Council, he had many things that required his attention.
However, there was one particular trainee whom he was genuinely hoping would pass this trial. He had even told other mages that his success in the trials was a given. But that, of course, was simply bravado.
The trials cared for no one. They recognized no talent. They simply induced a change and either the trainees could survive that change or they couldn't. There was nothing else. The trials were this simple.
He was initially confident that Troy would pass them but being confident in the face of the trials was simply not enough. When the reality of their brutality is directly in your face no amount of confidence is enough to keep the anxiety at bay.
They were moving into the third day of this trial and Troy was still holding on. Eight boys went into this trial and already five were dead. Every time he would have to leave for whatever business, he would immediately make his way back here to keep an eye on his progress.
Nazad had kept his eyes glued to the boy's convulsing body nearly the entire time. There were times when his body had gone completely still and he couldn't help but wonder whether he would ever move again. Troy's body was currently in another convulsion stage, which he found disturbingly comforting, if there was such a thing.
He watched, as Troy's convulsions began to get slower and slower and then they then began to come in longer intervals.
This wasn't good, it seemed very similar to the behavior exhibited by those whose lives were finally sputtering out. They were involuntarily convulsing and in their last moments what little energy remained inside was mindlessly spent on continuing to do whatever they had been doing.
Nazad's face carried a concerned expression but he remained seated and composed himself. As he was beginning to suspect the worst, he suddenly felt something that he would recognize anywhere, coming from Troy's body. He looked around at the other mages to confirm that they had also felt it.
All of his concern was instantly replaced with curiosity and anticipation, as he and the other mages rushed over to Troy's motionless body. Motionless, except, for the calm and regular rise and fall of his chest powered by still breathing lungs, which were activated by his still beating heart.
As mages who regularly experimented on and treated human subjects, all of the mages of Kaer Morhen had a handful of precise diagnostic spells, some of which could even determine the degree to which a subject had adapted to his mutations. After Nazad reached the side of Troy's table, he quickly ran his hands over his body, while muttering a few short words.
After a few seconds, he smiled knowingly and looked to the other mages. "He's alive...and yes...he's a conduit! Not only that, based on my assessment, whatever happened during his conduit moment caused him to perfectly adapt to his mutations. They should be as properly integrated as a natural part of his body.
"That being said, whether or not he continues, with his witcher training, will be entirely up to him. Now that he's had his conduit moment, we have an obligation to either train him as a sorcerer or hand him over to those who would.
"For now, however," He returned his gaze back to Troy's sleeping form. "let's put him to bed. He's passed this trial and has earned his rest." Nazad snapped his fingers and Troy's body floated into the air and followed Nazad's movements.
"Witchers, Mages, I bid you goodnight and I wish our other survivors well. I myself am over tired and will soon retire, for the night. If you need me and unless it's something urgent, save it until the morning."
With that, Nazad quickly left the room, delivered Troy to his cot, and went directly to his room. All he had done these past few days was to work and get super stressed out and it had taken its toll. Troy, like the other survivors, had endured through unimaginable pain and thus had earned a good night's sleep, at the very least.
Everything else could wait for tomorrow.
