This world had been a strange experience for Nimh.

He was not sure how long he had wandered as a spirit, unsure of what his surroundings contained outside a vague understanding from his spiritual sense. Which only sensed other spirits and spiritual essence.

People he could sense. Animals he could sense. Even aspects of nature held enough spiritual essence to be detected.

Buildings and architecture did not.

Until he had possessed his new body, he had held no true understanding of what his environment entailed. Was he in some savage backwater or a super-advanced city? He did not know.

Unfortunately, his body was a lowly F-Rank with senses so dim that even his spirit sense granted better visibility.

It had gotten to the point where Nimh was worried he’d never gain a descent set of physical senses. He had ignored that concern, focussing more on what he could affect.

Like now, as his mind slowly fazed back into consciousness, eyes closed and body in a strange state of exhaustion and vibrance.

His ears, which had muted sound to the point that distance noise was a bare hum, exploded with sensation. Not as keen as his old ears, but the blessed sound was better than that distracting hum of muffled noise.

Even his sense of taste was improved…and his sense of smell. The two combined rocked Nimh into movement, rolling away as his stomach threatened to empty itself. Except there was nothing there.

A memory of a door snaped Nimh into action as he dashed towards it, eyes still closed. With a resounding bang, he found fresh air and gasped in lung fills with air.

Sunlight warmed his skin, despite the cool breeze that pulled at his clothes. And the smell, which Nimh realised was coming off his skin became less intense. Impurities purged from the body.

And his eyes.

Squinting, Nimh opened his eyes and felt the glaring light sear his eyes with pain. Trembling with pain and exaltation, Nimh opened his eyes wide and looked at the world around him.

His joy at being able to see was enough to silence his disappointment in the undercity.

“I can see.” He almost cried as he stared out.

The sky was blue as sapphires, clouds pink and silver. What had been blurs before were sharp, like the buildings, large blocky things that looked sturdy, though uninspiring. Perhaps a utilitarian culture? Or just lacking the aesthetic desire of Nimh’s people.

Despite his ignorance, Nimh just revelled in his new sight. It was, however, just that. Sight. It offered the ability to see things clearly, but after a few moments, Nimh had to admit that his senses were, in general, still dim. At least compared to what he had possessed prior to his death.

But it was far better than he had held just a few hours ago.

With a smile, Nimh made his way inside and descended down to the open space of the training floor. He could feel the vital energy strengthening his muscles, begging to be used with every step.

It would be like that for a while. He had forcefully stimulated the vital energy in his body, forcing it to reforge the physical well. It was within the expectation that it would want to be used.

Making his way to the centre of the room, Nimh took in his surroundings. He was thankful that the vital energy was coursing through him so well. But its flow was untrained and uneven. Even still, it was likely thanks to it that his body had improved so much. He even felt like his mind was a little quicker.

To be more precise, his brain had developed slightly.

He still held the information and knowledge of his past life. Memories, discipline, and doctrine, long since hammered into him. But it was his brain that would make use of that information. The more developed his brain became, the more effectively he could utilise his own abilities.

Which meant training.

“The sooner I get this body up to par, the better,” Nimh muttered. Spreading his feet, his body beginning to sway, legs slowly adjusting to his weight as he focused on his breathing.

Back home, there was a combat art taught to every child. It was tailor-made to teach youngsters how to acclimate to their physical arts and helped build the foundation of their development.

In total, there were three hundred and eighty-three different forms, each comprised of dozens of movements. But there was only ninety-nine foundational forms which gave birth to the rest.

If done correctly, at a comfortable pace, it could be completed within an hour. If an expert were to put on a display, it could be done in twenty minutes. It was an inspiring sight to behold. Nimh remembered his master showing him when he was a boy. It had taken him five years of hard work to complete those ninety-nine forms without flaw. And another six to match his master’s speed.

By the time Nimh had married Meira, he could complete all three hundred and eighty-three forms perfectly with a speed even his master could not match.

It was a testament to just how much he had lost as he slowly moved through the forms, his body lacking the mobility and strength to complete the forms as Nimh had come to expect of himself.

In the end, after two hours, Nimh stood in the centre of the training room, sweat beading his forehead as he breathed. He had completed the ninety-nine forms only once. Once was enough to make him want to kill himself and escape to the Realm of Infinite Dreams in shame.

If not for his training, Nimh would have succumbed to his rage. He was, perhaps, a proud man. And as such, he had always taken pride in his accomplishments. His fighting abilities and spiritual arts were at the peak of his pride.

And today, one of those peaks had been shattered. Letting out a ragged breath, Nimh glared at the wall, counting down in his head. He had started from one hundred, and as he got closer to one, his anger had not abated. Instead, it burned hotter.

At the count of one, he launched into action, his limbs were fatigued, reflexes slow. But still, he ran through the ninety-nine forms. Each mistake another stab into his heart.

When he was done, he did not rest.

Instead, he began again. And again. Sweat drenched him, vital energy surged through him. But what had once felt like water flowing through a stream, his vital energy was like sludge being pushed through a drain in comparison.

And his anger. His anger fuelled him until, finally he collapsed on the ground, body and mind exhausted.

Tears and sweat mixed as he lay there. It would take a long time for him to regain what he had lost. This body was workable, but could it reach the peak? It would take years, if not decades. Even if he took shortcuts with the physical arts.

A stubborn part of him refused to accept that. But the reality was a sour pill to swallow. He wanted to console himself with the knowledge that his spiritual arts could close the gap. But that too was a lie.

And another problem he had to solve.

A quick scan with his spirit sense told him that there were no new presences in the building. The prisoners were still in place, though his spirit sense was not strong enough to make out any more than that.

Drawing his spirit sense back in, Nimh looked inward. Much like when he had sought the minute traces of vital energy, except this time he followed his spirit sense back to the spirit well at the centre of his body.

Placing his awareness on the well, Nimh considered it. The spirit of Marcus, the previous owner of this body was in there, trapped. Wolfgang was also there, though his screams had faded.

It was like resetting a bone. It would be painful, but it had to be done. He couldn’t have them in there for all eternity.

Entering his spirit well was like stepping into a dream.

The mind had only a small amount of sway here and the body had none whatsoever. It was a job for his spirit. He could vaguely sense the full weight of his spirit, locked away somewhere beyond the spirit well. Trapped in the Realm of Infinite Dreams.

Out of reach until this vessel was worthy of it. The vessel being the spirit well. The spirit was not a physical thing, instead, Nimh thought of it as a special kind of attachment. It bound a piece of oneself to a physical body but could be detached after death. It also bound itself to the mind to the body which followed the spirit after death. The connection was mysterious but not unresearched. Though not by Nimh. Nimh could only assume the Realm of Infinite Dreams and the Realm of Thoughtful Heights had something to do with it.

Though he had never been able to access the Realm of Thoughtful Heights to explore the cognitive arts, he intended to rectify that. After he had regained his power.

Within his spirit well, was a wide-open space. It was filled with dark light swirling through space with a single source of light in the centre. That light was his spirit seed and it gave off a light of soft blue which bled into the surrounding darkness.

It left Nimh with an odd sense of distortion. The spirit well he had developed in his old world was very different to this one. For one, the darkness was new. Another was the colour of his spiritual seed. What was now blue had been a brilliant golden spiral and what was darkness had been a noble shade of violet.

Spreading his spirit sense, Nimh felt the depth of the well. The deeper the well, the more of his spirit he could use. The stronger his spiritual seed, the more abilities he could unlock. All in all, his well was swallowed and would require a lot of work.

And his spiritual seed would take time to mature. Good thing he had a spare spirit to feed it.

Reaching out, he sensed Wolfgang’s spirit and grasped it. Carelessly, Nimh dragged the broken spirit before him. It took the fractured shape of a man, hollow and transparent.

“Wolfgang,” Nimh said softly. “Do you recognise me?”

The spirit whimpered like a whipped dog, its ghostly head bobbing. Nimh cursed.

“Has your mind been broken?” he said coldly.

The ghostly figure’s head kept bobbing and Nimh realised that the link between the spirit and its mind was fully severed. That was a new one for him. He had never heard of a spirit and mind being fully unravelling. The human soul was literally formed by the union of spirit and mind.

Even Nimh knew that.

Could this be a form of the cognitive arts? The mystery poked at him. However, he had time to contemplate that later. If Wolfgang had no mind, the Nimh would put what was left of him to work.

With a ruthlessness of a man offering deliverance, Nimh threw Wolfgang's spirit into the spiritual seed.

The blue light flared and Nimh reached out, harnessing the gentle blue spirit seed as it burned the spiritual remains of what was once Wolfgang.

“May you be forgotten,” Nimh muttered. Part of him had wanted to squeeze some information out of him and then slowly destroy him with the spiritual seed. But that was not going to happen now.

“Some people really don’t get what they deserve.”