After the conversation with Juraci, nothing else significant happened that day. The next morning, Kauan found a quiet place for me, and I continued my mana control training.
As instructed, I sat in a meditative position, began my breathing technique, and focused on sensing the pulse of my core.
Nothing happened. My instincts told me something was missing. It was as if I were overlooking something important.
—System, this exercise doesn't seem very effective.
—User's suspicion confirmed. The exercise practiced thus far has yielded no significant results. The system suggests a change of course.
—Do you have any suggestions?
—The user's stored knowledge is insufficient for the system to formulate an action plan. The system suggests the user establish an ancestral connection to seek further information in genetic memory.
—And how the hell do I do that?
—Ancestral connections are triggered by emotional stimuli, evoked through affective memory passed down generations via cultural elements.
Despite the system's vague explanation, at that moment, I instinctively knew what to do.
I searched for two branches roughly the size and shape of sabers.
Among the Black Lancers, there were some capoeira masters. In the empire, most people believed capoeira was just a form of dance—I used to be one of them.
When I began training with the Black Lancers and saw some of them incorporating capoeira movements into their combat techniques, I realized the powerful weapon the children of Aruanda had passed down through generations, disguised as a dance to deceive the white slavers.
Capoeira was one of the first things that connected me to the Black Lancers. When I recognized the potential of this unique martial art, I asked their masters to teach me.
Practicing capoeira not only refined my skills as a warrior but also became the first bridge that reconnected me to my people.
During that time, one of my techniques paired perfectly with the teachings of the capoeira masters. It was almost as if that technique had been incomplete, waiting for the ginga of capoeira to make it whole.
The Dance of Eight Blades was an original technique I had developed instinctively while still at the imperial academy.
A deadly technique—crucial in making me the top graduate of my class—became elegant once it met the ginga of a capoeirista.
I positioned myself with a branch in each hand.
I focused and searched my memory for the rhythm of Xangô's atabaque.
Naturally, my body began to sway. I could even hear the drums.
—Xangô, my father,
The branch in my right hand made the first cut through the air.
—Bind my enemies and tie the knot.
The branch in my left hand executed the second cut.
—Xangô, my father,
Two more cuts through the air.
—Bind them at the tip of the vine.
The last four cuts came in quick succession.
When I opened my eyes, I was no longer in the clearing. I stood in a mystical realm. The horizon stretched infinitely in every direction. The ground seemed made of salt, covered by a thin layer of water that mirrored the light of the endless aurora borealis painting the starry sky.
The only distinct element was a tall, muscular man dressed in a red tunic tied at the waist but fallen from his shoulders, revealing his sculpted torso. A double-bladed axe in one hand, several red and white beaded necklaces around his neck, and a crown of copper and fire upon his head.
—Seems Mainha was right to give you a second chance. She always is, honestly. I don't know why I still doubt her.
—Mainha? You're also a child of the Lady in Blue who saved me?
—Lady in Blue? At this point, you know her name. Why not show a little more respect?
—Yemanjá… It was her who saved me, wasn't it? And you must be Xangô.
—Right and right again.
—That other one, the weird one… is he your brother?
—Exu? Nah, that one's adopted. I don't know why Mainha lets just anyone call her mother.
I had learned very little about the deities of the Aruanda people during my time with the Black Lancers. But I knew enough to respect and admire the divinity before me—no matter how absurd the situation was, and no matter how funny it was to see a divine being jealous of his mother.
—Why me? Why did Yemanjá save me?
—How should I know? Mainha doesn't usually explain things to us. She acts, and we deal with the consequences. If you ever meet her, don't tell her I said that, got it? But I didn't come here to chat. Let's settle our business.
As he spoke, he waved his hands, and a system screen appeared before him. Unlike when I was with Exu—so that weird one was Exu—this time, I could read what was on the screen. He was checking my stats.
—First, I must congratulate you for reestablishing your connection with me.
—The connection is still weak. You won't be able to summon my avatar yet, but at least I can offer some assistance now—if absolutely necessary, of course.
—I'll also make my quests available in your system. As you complete them, our bond will strengthen.
—As a reward for making first contact, I'll provide the system with all the knowledge you need to learn mana control. I assume that's why you called me here, right?
—That curse they placed on our descendants in this world of yours is a real pain in the ass, messing up mana flow like this. When you find out who did it, count on me to teach that bastard a lesson.
—You have a natural affinity for fire magic. I'll add my grimoire to your system. It'll be useful.
—Your equipment is another problem. You swinging those branches around was ridiculous. Never do that in front of anyone again, understand? Our people have a reputation to uphold.
—I can't give you any weapons yet—our connection is still too weak. But I think I can borrow a few recipes from my brother and add them to your system.
—If you ever meet Ogum, don't tell him it was me who gave you the recipe for his swords and armor, got it?
As strange as all this was, I simply nodded in agreement.
—I can't give you equipment yet, but for now, I can give you this protective guide.
He removed one of his beaded necklaces and gifted it to me.
—From now on, I'll always be watching over you, my son. Saravá!
The moment he spoke those last words, the scenery shifted again, and I was back in the clearing.