Pope Pug
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PJ (Pug's Journey) B2, Chapter 59.
🕑 Added 2025-08-14 13:29:22 +0000 UTCGodbeasts progressed faster in the early stages than humans. That much had become obvious over the years. It wasn’t about talent or external resources. Our bodies simply didn’t resist change the same way humans did.
Mother Aurelith proved that. Even in her short life, barely fifty years long, she reached Lower Phase-0. If she'd lived longer, she might have gone far further. But even with time cut short, she crossed the threshold. That was all the proof I needed.
Twelve years ago, Saphiel stood at Middle Phase-4. I remember it clearly. She was strong, but still growing into it. If her pace had continued, and I assume it did, she’d be Upper Phase-3 by now. Possibly Phase-2?
I was sitting at around the same point now. I was Middle Phase-3 ten years ago, and I was at the edge of Upper Phase-3 now. It was getting harder and harder to achieve a breakthrough; I The distinction mattered a lot since not all Phases were equal according to combat power.
Just like how I managed to beat Verian, who was the same Phase as me back then, I doubt it would’ve been that easy if we were fighting directly underwater, or if I was fighting someone whose abilities directly countered mine.
My next breakthrough would very likely take me to Lower Phase-2. But what concerned me wasn’t the number. It was when it came.
We were in the middle of the city and I was afraid of causing a disaster here.
So, I couldn’t help but worry.
Would it be bigger this time? Longer? More violent?
I didn’t know and that bothered me.
I needed to find a quiet place soon. Away from towns, away from people. Somewhere I could ground myself and hold steady if the heavens came down on me.
A breeze touched my face and I opened my eyes. I’ve become quite an early waker these days, just before dawn hit.
Safi was lying beside me, still asleep. Her back was to me, and her breathing was even. The blanket I placed over her had fallen halfway off, but she hadn’t moved to fix it. She’d probably kick it off again even if I fixed it.
I slowly sat up, careful not to make noise.
I started the day the same way. I went to the do-not-disturb spot behind the stairwell, laid down again, and focused on my breathing. Sali wasn’t allowed to disturb me here without reason. I closed my eyes and gathered qi on the inhale, circulating it in my body.
I built this habit after a dungeon dive with Sali. I almost lost her there. A trap fired when I was almost out of Qi and she slipped, her head hitting stone. I carried her out and decided I would not be caught lacking again.
Since then, I gave myself a few hours a day to work on my foundations.
My chest-core stayed steady and I could feel pressure rising and settling in a clean rhythm.
Before I knew it, I could hear a pan hit the stove. The smell followed. Sali liked making the same breakfast. Scrambled eggs and bacon.
I sat up, cleared my thoughts, and opened my skills.
*****
〈Pophet, The Gentle Faith That Echoes〉
[Mana: 0 / 0]
[Skills: 5]
Skill: Breath of the Heavenly Pug
In its infancy, the beast drew in life with a quiet, measured rhythm. Qi flowed only in stillness, and stillness was all it knew.
But the breath has deepened. The beast no longer rests; it dreams.
With each rise and fall of its chest, spiritual energy gathers like the tide beneath a full moon. The air itself grows heavy in its presence, as if inviting the world to pause and breathe alongside it.
The pug sleeps, and yet the heavens tremble.
Stage: Nascent Soul
Skill: Thousand Fats Body Compression
A secret technique born from the ancient and mostly-forgotten ██████████████, this minor art was developed by low-ranking disciples who needed to evade both danger and responsibility with equal grace. By tightening the meridians and weaving Qi, the user may compress their physical vessel into a deceptively diminutive form.
Practitioners of this technique once used it to sneak past gatekeepers, hide beneath floorboards, or nap inside sacred urns to avoid morning drills. While compressed, power output is reduced.
Legends say true masters could vanish into a teacup. You, however, are pug-shaped and still squishy.
Skill: Intent of the Beast
A martial resonance born not from the blade’s cold precision, but from a beast’s authority over space itself. In its early stages, the intent clawed and tore, seeking dominance through rending force. Now, it shapes.
To wield this intent is not merely to cut, but to command. It defines idea before motion begins.
This intent does not manifest visibly, but the world remembers where it has been.
Skill: Empty Stomach Devours Poison
The demonic beast’s stomach is not just a vessel for food. Where others falter at toxins and venom, it consumes them.
What enters as poison in its body is ground into marrow-deep nourishment. What burns the veins of lesser creatures only serves to fatten its core.
Let the world’s filth come. The pug will eat it all.
Skill: Invincible Golden Pugoda
Through constant tempering, the beast’s physical vessel has reached a state of perfect stability. Qi circulates throughout the flesh and bones in a closed loop, reinforcing every layer of muscle, skin, and fur.
At this stage, external force cannot easily displace the body.
Momentum-based strikes lose their power on contact; energy disperses across the beast’s frame. Blades and claws that might have pierced before now glance off or are absorbed by the dense, qi-fortified fur and tissue.
This technique does not harden the surface like stone, nor does it create visible armor.
*****
There were barely any changes after ten years. But even so, I could feel the qi in my body become more stable and more refined. I reckon that there were some things that weren’t quantified in my resonance.
I padded to the kitchen. Sali stood on her stool, hair drawn back, sleeves rolled. The eggs were set. The bacon rested on a bowl by the kettle. She prepared our breakfast routinely, just as she had done for the past few years.
When she saw me, she lifted me with both hands and placed me by the bowl.
“Let’s eat,” she said, then sat. “I’ll read while we do.”
She unfolded the paper and scanned the front page without sounding out anything. “Sunmire,” she said. “A noblewoman from the central continent is said to have funded a medicine ward. The Guild praised the donation, saying it will strengthen the unity between the two continents.”
She continued, “Supply prices are up on the eastern road after a dungeon overflow. It also caused a contract dispute and a damaged bridge.”
I grunted.
“We should be back after the tournament brackets, right? Can I get some cake?” she asked before turning the page. “There was a small fire by the canal. Thankfully, no deaths. But the marshal issued more warnings about lantern safety.”
She skimmed a column and mumbled the rest. There was nothing major in the news.
Information was important, especially for us. We needed to know what the public ongoings were just in case.
We finished the food. And she asked me about the cake again since I didn’t answer. She slid the last piece of bacon to my bowl, clearly as a bribe.
“Fine.”
She giggled happily and proceeded to place the dishes in the sink. Life was a bit more different around here, since it was more technologically advanced. We had proper stoves, sinks, a shower, and all sorts of modern conveniences.
Home. We can say that now. We bought the place three years ago. We saved and looked for a private but still homely house. When the right one opened, Sali quickly grabbed it.
It was a two-floor house on a side lane. The rooms were small and clean. The yard was narrow but long enough for Sali to start planting, true to her elven lineage. She even keeps notes on the growth and types of soil and fertilizer she was using.
She had fully adapted to the city life. She knew the baker’s first tray time, what time the markets weren’t that busy anymore, and which streets kids like herself were playing sports, a rough version of the official sports here anyways.
She locked the door and checked it again. We took the three steps to the lane. She counted them out of habit, and then looked both ways before moving.
“Practice your footwork first,” I told her, setting the plan. “Then direct combat. I’ll use Intent if it gets dangerous, don’t worry. I want you to feel the difference.”
Sali nodded and then glanced at me. “After the brackets, can we visit the market again? I want to start a new soil mix for summer.”
I agreed with a huff.
Sali’s next fight was today. If she won, she’d fight again tomorrow for the final placement; the the finals would decide which five advanced to the Adventurer’s Guild.
The rings were busier by the time we arrived. Same as yesterday, the marshals kept a steady pace of safety while the healers and medics stood at the edges with their kits open.
Sali checked her bracket at the board, and there was still some time left before she fought.
We watched two matches before hers. Both were on the Ranked Bracket. No killing blows. One of the contenders was disqualified for a head strike after a halt. Thankfully, the marshal moved fast and stopped it.
Eventually, time came and it was Sali’s turn to enter the ring. Her opponent carried a short spear and had a look on his face I did not like.
In fact, his eyes kept cutting toward the marshal’s stand, then back to Sali.
Sali did the same as yesterday and placed me down on the ground.
The marshal did our introductions and dropped his hand, yelling, “Begin!”
The spear came forward in a straight line. Sali slipped it and tagged the shoulder with an open palm. The man bounced back and rushed at her harder. Two quick thrusts pushed her to the edge. But she kept her guard up and focused her eyes, making sure she didn’t get stabbed or cleanly slashed.
But then, I suddenly felt bloodlust come from him. His angle changed and I saw an invisible thrust targetting Sali’s throat.
His resonance, perhaps?
I immediately moved.
A downward slap on the ground and a narrow band of pressure appeared on his lead leg, which took the brunt of it. My Intent met his shin and it cleanly broke. He went down with the spear still in his hand, then dropped it when he realized that he couldn’t even move forward with his foot still slammed to the ground with an ongoing weight of something he could not see.
An erupt cheered at the sudden upset.
Sali took this opportunity and threw a hidden dagger to his chest, ending the fight. The marshal blew the halt and stepped in, announcing Sali’s win. The healers were already moving to do first-aid on the spearman.
Sali joined me by the exit. “You didn’t wait,” she said. Her voice accused me.
“He took a shot at your throat,” I said. “I ended it.”
She thought about that. “Did he really?”
“Yes, you might have died,” I said.
“I see, thanks…” She nodded with her head down.
We confirmed her next fight at the board. Tomorrow, in the afternoon. The marshal noted that a win in the top ten tomorrow would let her go to the Adventurer’s Guild.
The rest of the afternoon was ordinary. We bought her soil and some seeds as we headed home. She did not forget the cake. She did not stop asking about it either. When we reached the vendor, she selected a plain round with a thin sugar glaze and two small slices of a berry one.
Evening came and we brought more food home instead of cooking. Street noodles, a small tray of roasted chicken, and the cake. We ate at the table. Sali settled after the first bite of cake and hummed in the way she does when she was satisfied with the day.
She cleaned the dishes, dried them, and set them in their places. I checked locks and windows.
We slept. Morning came the same way it always did, early and plain. I woke before light, went to the do-not-disturb spot, and laid down.
I continued until it was time for breakfast again.
I stood after smelling the scent of eggs and bacon, shook the stiffness from my legs, and went to the kitchen. Sali moved through the routine without commentary. Eggs, bacon, plates. She lifted me to the table and sat with the paper already opened to the front page.
I started eating.
She scanned the first column. “Supply prices are still going up on the eastern road, but there’s been a temporary fix on the bridge.”
She turned the page. “Here. It says that Sunmire delegates are visiting the Adventurer’s Guild. The article says it’s connected to the noblewoman who funded the medicine wards. They’re calling it a courtesy call and a planning session for future cooperation.”
She slowed to check a line. “There’s a list of the delegation.”
I took another mouthful.
“‘…Senior Cleric of Public Records, a Medical representative…’” She moved a finger down the column. “The Southern Saintess, Rava of the Lig—”
I spat the food I was gorging back into the bowl.
