Chapter 13 – Told to Breathe

The legionary came back after a brief moment at the furthest end of the hallway and sniffed the air around him. “Good. I don’t smell any goblin on you.”

“It was not easy, that’s for sure.”

The legionary gave him a wide smile that stretched a massive scar that carved his upper lip into something gruesome. Then he guided Max out of the hallway and back into the battlegrounds. Someone, it looked like Olir from the back but Max wasn’t sure. The boy was fully turned around and focused on pummeling a goblin in the face with a dagger, very much similar to how he had done it.

Are they all going to copy me?

Max didn’t get another chance to figure out who was fighting. The legionary picked him up and set him down next to the rest of the recruits. They all stared for a few uncomfortable seconds as Max settled into his spot and kept Arnie’s area clear of anyone. It took a few more seconds before they finally turned around to look at the ensuing beatdown Olir, and it was Olir because Max could not find him, was giving the goblin.

He turned to look back toward where Caleb sat.

The boy still kept his false distance, though this time his forearm was wrapped with bandages.

Max turned back to the fight as Olir stood over the corpse of the goblin. He was not nearly as covered in viscera and filth as Max had been.

“How exhausted are you right now?”

Max turned to look at the new voice.

Senior Casius was stepping down from a few rows above them. “Follow along.”

Max hesitated for a second before he ran after the older man. They walked away from the group and began a long loop around the amphitheater’s lowest ring at a slow pace.

“You never answered my question, young man. How exhausted must you feel at this moment?”

“Everything hurts, Sir. I’ve never been so tired before.”

“Is that so? If only you knew, maybe you would not be so fatigued.”

Max tilted his head. “Know what?”

“If only you knew how to breathe,” the old man looked back with a giant smile.

Breathe? I’d be dead from a lack of air if I didn’t know how to breathe… What does he even mean by that?

“I can see the confusion in your eyes and expression. Listen well and don’t forget this lesson. Maybe one day it will save your life,” he paused for a few seconds to give Max time. “You are currently filling your chest with as much air as possible. Sucking in Oxygen–”

Wait. Isn’t that mentioned in the Recovery of the Air Gladiator Skill Shard’s explanation?

Encourages Magic, Oxygen… to help recovery, regeneration…

It does.

Max zoned back in and focused to make sure he memorized every single word the Senior was saying. This was a hint he could use to begin understanding his Skill Shard and how to better improve it when he worked on moving his mana and manipulating it as needed.

“–and forcing your chest, shoulders, arms, neck, and head to rise with each breath. You are wasting energy and stamina. Rather you should aspire to fill your stomach and keep the rest of your body as motionless as possible while breathing. Every ounce of energy you waste is an ounce that could have been used to fuel another strike or parry,” Senior Casius stopped walking and turned to look back at Max. “Are you listening?”

“Yes, Sir! Breathe and store in my stomach and not my chest.”

“Good. I can provide you with proper breathing manuals once we return to camp, but for now. Learn the basics. The Centurion will be informed of your… lack of disappointing results, and your subsequent ability to read and write. He has been sending requests to Fort HogDeath for years now and still he has not been approved.”

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“Yes, Sir!”

Senior Casius gave him a wide smile and returned to walking. They hadn’t even made it a quarter of the way around.

More importantly, Max had learned something new. Air was Oxygen. Or whatever they were breathing in from the air that was as necessary to existence as food and water. Somehow once that entered the body, it helped him recover? He wasn’t quite sure what it did in the grand scheme of things, but it helped piece a tiny part of the puzzle that was his Ledger Skill and the Skill Shard he had repurposed.

While they walked, he tried the breathing exercise.

It was strange to suddenly be told that you were breathing wrong the entire time and took conscious effort to maintain. He stumbled a few times.

“Relax your body,” Senior Casius said. “Don’t force this process, rather guide it.”

What does that even mean…?

Max continued his practice, but he couldn’t help but wonder why he was doing this. He knew that the story the Samson had spread all the way to the Optio, but how did that involve this senior? Where was he on the totem pole? Why did he care enough to worry about Max’s breathing, the writing and reading skill, and a Centurion being interested in him?

“I can see the questions in your eyes, young man. Speak your mind.”

“Who are you and how does it involve me?”

“Straight to the point, then,” the old man liked to smile. “I am Caisus Yorvek. The Record Keeper of this Cursed Legion. It is my responsibility to record all battles, events of magnitude, important moments and decisions made by the Centurion and his Optios, and… interesting recruits with grand lore to their name already. Had I not existed, many such as yourself and a few of the other boys in your batch would be forgotten soon enough. Killed in duty without a chance at development. Proper development. Or records to remind the good people of this Empire that you made a worthy sacrifice.”

Max gaped.

He’s the man the Patron Mage spoke about? Captain Samson said he’d find me, but I didn’t think it would be this soon.