"Take him to the healing pool," Captain Salka said. "The cold one," he continued before leaving.
"The c-cold pool?" one of the junior instructors asked in shock.
"He will heal and receive punishment," Salka said in a curt tone. Sagiri had never once been punished by Salka. But now, however, as the instructors held up his sagging body, his body burning with pain, he realized that he was much worse than Fuwuka in punishment and principal senraki was more than the immature character he portrayed most of the time.
They took him below. it seemed under the central pentagon were many places for different purposes. It was a whole city down below.
Stone steps spiraled down into the lower levels of the central pentagon, where light thinned, and the air grew sharp. The freezing healing pool lay sealed behind a thick iron gate, carved into the bedrock itself.
"The pool is both natural and artificial. it was formally used to punish people, but its water was found to be beneficial for healing when an offender facing torture kept healing. so some healing medicines are frequently added to enable healing. It is, however, too cold, and most patients prefer the warm pool on the level above.
The pool was long and narrow, cut from black stone. The water inside was unnaturally clear and painfully still, a pale blue that reflected no warmth. Mist clung low over its surface, rolling slowly like breath in winter. The cold reached him before he touched the water, biting into his skin, crawling up his bones.
"The warm healing pool above is different. It's wider. Its waters ease muscles, gently close wounds, and allow the body to rest while it recovers. Students prefer it. It's so warm and comfortable you can sleep in it," the other instructor added.
"It is fine. I disobeyed the marshal and the captain, disrespected the discipline division commander, and made the whole fourth year cadets suffer," he said in a level voice, but inside of him, he knew whose fault it was, and the punishment was fueling his urge to punish them more.
This pool demanded movement. you can not stay still in a cold pool unless you want to die.
The two instructors lowered Sagiri in. The moment the water reached his waist, his legs seized. He could not remain standing, and so he sat on a raised platform in the water. When the water reached his chest, his breath broke apart. When they submerged him to the neck, the cold struck deep, like the water wanted to steal heat from inside his very bones. His injuries screamed at once, ribs tightening, jaw locking, his left hand burning as if the break had been reopened.
The water did not soothe him at all, and it almost felt like the water was opening the wounds anew. If he stayed still, the cold would settle into him and slow his heart. If he sank, it would claim him. The only way to survive was to move. Yet he was in too much pain to move. It had been a really bad idea to lie to both a captain and a marshal. Not many students got to go that far, and he had done it in less than a month. He had no choice but to move, however. the junior instructors had cleared out, however, leaving him to his torture. he settled for standing the sitting.
Slowly.
Every motion sent knives through his body. Muscles stiffened, then burned, then went numb, forcing him to fight for control again. His breath came shallow and sharp, fog spilling from his mouth with every exhale. Time stretched. Seconds felt like minutes. Minutes like hours. He could not tell if he was healing or his body was tearing open.
The cold constricted blood vessels, sealed swelling, and stopped internal bleeding. But it did so cruelly, stripping comfort away, demanding pain as payment. His body shook violently, not from weakness alone, but from the effort of staying alive. Sagiri clenched his teeth and kept moving. It was futile, and he wanted to give in and just see what could happen then.
The cold kept gnawing at him relentlessly. Sagiri's limbs were slowing. Each movement took more thought than the last. His breath stuttered, fog spilling from his mouth in weak bursts. The pool pressed in from all sides, heavy and patient, waiting for the moment he would stop fighting.
He was pushed to his limits so much that he was at the end of his wits. Just when he was about to let himself go and see the worst that could happen, an idea popped into his head. 'meditative conscious slumber.' For some reason, right now, he could remember N'varu's instructions. He sank into the sitting platform and folded himself into a meditative posture.
The shock of stillness nearly dragged him under. Panic flared from deep within his brain, urging him not to give in, but he forced it down. He fixed his gaze on nothing, on the space between breaths, and let his thoughts sink inward without letting go.
Awake,
Aware, he chanted like a mantra.
He slowed his breathing until it barely disturbed the water. Each inhale was shallow, controlled. Each exhale deliberately. The pain did not stop immediately. In fact it got worse but meditative slumber was not easy to achieve and now with the pressing factors around him it was even harder. His wounds burned, his bones ached painfully, and the water froze him to his very melancholic cells. He clenched his jaw and focused. When he finally brushed the surface of the conscious slumber, something finally happened. The pain stopped spreading and narrowed down to only the afflicted places. The cold no longer screamed. It was still there, but it was slightly manageable.
Then the sensation turned inward.
As he fell deeper into the conscious slumber, his awareness of everything inside of him and around him grew. He could feel the dripping of water drops and even the frozen air in the cave. He was not only aware of his surroundings but also everything that was happening inside of him. He was suddenly aware as he felt his muscles, not as agony but as structure. Fibers tightening. Tremors settling into rhythm.
he allowed himself to fall even deeper, and his body finally responded with something other than pain. The power inside of him stirred as if finally waking up. The feeling that he was stuck in that dark place when he had fallen unconscious pressed onto him again. Only this time, he was awake to feel it all. the crippling pain and searing fire as the power inside of him concentrated itself on his injuries and broken bones. So this is how I had healed? His ribs slowly but progressively stopped stabbing with every breath. They drew inward, knitting themselves tight. His jaw eased, bone shifting, locking back into place with a dull, grinding heat that spread beneath the cold. His left hand burned, then steadied, bones aligning as if guided by invisible hands. He felt the whole process and experienced it, and he did not collapse or lose consciousness this time. He felt his wounds visibly close up, and he was glad his uniform covered his body entirely, and his mask and hood only left his eyes exposed. The pool might have accelerated healing, but it was not a miracle pool.
Healing.
Slow. Violent. Precise.
he stayed in the conscious slumber even long after he had completely healed. But then, like a punch in the gut, a wrenching feeling tore through his body, pushing him out of his meditative consciousness slumber.
He staggered to the edge of the pool, fingers digging into the stone, and his breath broke. A violent retch tore through him. Thick, sticky fluid poured from his mouth, dark and glossy, clinging to the floor instead of splashing. The stench followed a heartbeat later, and it was nauseatingly sharp, metallic, wrong, like rot mixed with burned oil.
He gagged again, not catching a break. More came up, stringing between his lips before snapping free. It steamed faintly in the cold air, refusing to spread, pooling in heavy knots instead. His stomach clenched until there was nothing left to give. he heaved again and again till there was nothing left. Sagiri wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, breathing hard. He did not have any strength left, and he fell forward, laying his head at the edge of the pool.
He now understood what his body did. It could heal itself, and he finally understood part of the reason N'varu had taught him how to fall into conscious slumber. It was much more powerful than meditative slumber. Conscious slumber could help him regain his energy, heal him, and even help him enlarge his capabilities. He had Captain Salka to thank for his discovery. The man had pushed him to master it quickly.
The pool stood silent behind him. Something new he hadn't noticed before had also happened. The pool was now hot behind him, almost hot. While he was in his conscious slumber, while the power inside him had stirred, it had also heated the pool. He only hoped that the marks under his combat hadn't been glowing loudly. In his conscious slumber, however, he had not felt any presence around him, but remembering how N'varu hid his presence, he was not as confident anymore. He could only hope.
Sagiri straightened slowly, legs steady now, chest whole, jaw firm. The smell lingered, thick and unpleasant, but his body felt clear. Something else had happened to his body. He had also lost weight, and he was skinnier than he was yesterday.
He needed to clean his vomit, but he had to serve his punishment first. He sank back to the sitting platform, and this time, he allowed himself to fall into meditative slumber. he had only been sleeping due to the influence of medicine, and he needed to get proper sleep before he could join the other and find a way to tell the truth to Senraki and still punish the twins himself. He had learned his lesson to never tell a lie to the guy, but he was not going to let it go before he punished them for all the pain they caused him and everyone.