"How… much longer, Doc?" Dane said between ragged breaths.

  "Come on. You can't be winded already," the orc medic-turned-psychologist said.

  Dane couldn't understand it. His stamina hadn't changed since returning home.

  "Are you using some kind of spell to make this harder?" Dane asked as they neared the end of the first lap.

  "Take a break. Leave your canteen in your pack."

  The orc paused, placing both hands on his head as he drew in a long breath. "It's your fat. Most people, once they get stats, don't let themselves fall out of shape again. Fat carries a negative multiplier on stamina."

  "So we're just running to get me back into condition?"

  "No. We're running to get you into a routine."

  He glanced at Dane. "You spend too much time in your own head. People like you do better with structure. I want you to focus on getting out of your head while you run. Clear your mind of anything negative and stay in the moment. If I sense you dissociating, I'll bring you back."

  He reached into his spatial bag and pulled out a thick wooden baton. The hilt was darkened where years of hand oils had soaked into the grain, turning the wood a deep brown. Faint dents marked its length, clear signs of heavy use, and one spot, which was darker than the rest, where blood had once stained it.

  Dane's eyes followed the stick. The sight of it dragged him back to the guards in the dungeon.

  WAPPP.

  The baton struck just hard enough to rip him free of the memory.

  "I told you to stay present.”

  Doc Green inhaled slowly, held it for half a second, then exhaled. "Focus on your breathing. Focus on the sound of those annoying birds. Hell, focus on the wind in the leaves if you have to. Overthinking isn't always bad. But you need control over when you disappear into your thoughts."

  He nodded and started to listen to everything around him. Sure, he knew all of those things were always there, but now he really paid attention.

  "Get up. We've got nine more laps."

  It got easier as the run continued. On lap eight, Dane hit the wall, and the endorphins surged. His mind went completely blank, his vision whitening at the edges. It was a welcome transition, and before he knew it, Doc Green was signaling him to stop.

  "Alright, Dane. We're done for the day. Meet me back here tomorrow. Go spend some time with your family, and don't drink."

  Doc split off down another path.

  "How would you even know?" Dane muttered under his breath.

  He felt breath on his neck.

  "You're not the only one with Skills and Magic."

  He spun toward the sound and saw nothing. It was unsettling that someone as low-level as Doc Green could catch an ascendant off guard.

  Dane opened a portal and stepped into the bar. The Imperial news played overhead, and his little sister was already busy serving the scum of Austin. He walked to his usual spot, and before he could sit, an old-fashioned was placed on the bar as if it had been waiting for him all day. It likely had, from how warm his usually iced drink felt.

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  "Thanks, but I can't drink. Doctor's orders," Dane said, staring at the glass as the amber liquid caught the light, his mouth starting to water.

  Rebecca smiled. "I'll get you a water, then."

  She replaced the drink, and Dane drank deeply, like a child lapping up hose water on a hot summer day.

  He watched the news alone, letting his thoughts wander. This was when he wanted to drink the most. He had failed everyone. Amelia. Murphy. Jason. He kept a list of names. And when he didn't know them, he just used job titles as he tried to remember their faces.

  "We're closing up. Did you want anything from Johnny before we shut off the grill?"

  Dane shook his head. The line cook peeked out from behind the doors, disappointed he wouldn't get to spit in a meal.

  Rebecca grabbed her coat and walked to the door. She waited a moment, then continued toward their apartment once she knew Dane was following.

  "I thought… we only do ten laps," Dane panted.

  "That was yesterday. There is no set distance," Doc Green said. "I push you until your stamina drops to a quarter."

  "You can see my stamina?"

  "All three of your resource pools. It helps when choosing who gets treated first."

  It was a good sign that his stamina was getting better, but he still had a long way to go. The scale that morning showed he'd dropped ten pounds. Before the System, that would've been unhealthy, but Doc had assured him it was normal. He still had seventy to lose before he was back at a healthy two-o-five.

  When they finished the run, Dane prepared to leave and spend time with his sister. Doc Green stopped him as he conjured a portal.

  "Now that we've worked out your body, it's time to exercise your mind. Meet me at my office. Grab something nutritious on the way for both of us."

  The orc tossed him a few coppers and jogged off.

  As Dane walked through downtown, he passed more restaurants than he could count. Texas had never been known for healthy food, and the System hadn't improved things. It took nine tries before he found a Mediterranean place that had vegetables on the menu.

  He ordered two chicken shawarma bowls with white sauce, stowed them in his spatial bag, and portaled to Doc's office.

  "Faster than I expected," Doc Green said when he arrived. "Ready to eat?"

  Dane nodded, and they dug in. He hadn't eaten since he started drying out, and he tore into the food. Doc Green just watched.

  "That good?"

  "Way better than dirt."

  "You've eaten dirt?"

  "I picked up a skill for it. Kept me alive but doesn't quite kill the hunger."

  Dane hadn't noticed Doc Green start writing in his notebook again. By the time they finished, Dane felt oddly at ease. It might have been a skill, but he let it go. Mental manipulation felt wrong, but it often ended up as a skill used by healers because a berserking patient was the last thing people needed to deal with. The thought reminded him of Ada and Mara. I failed them, too.

  Doc closed the notebook loudly, bringing Dane out of his thoughts again. He wasn't sure if he had meant to, but it was nice that he had.

  "What we're about to do is something your people pioneered. You're showing signs of PTSD. The treatment is called bilateral therapy. It will be difficult. I'll ask you to remember some of your worst moments. You don't have to share them. While you do, snap the fingers of your right hand and rub the fingertips of your left together.”

  He leaned forward slightly.

  "The goal is to have you remember without reliving."

  Immediately, his thoughts drifted to Isabelle, his first girlfriend. He had failed her, and watching her get ripped apart was too much. I should have taken better care of the sword. He could have chosen any moment from his slavery, but his thoughts always tended to drift to moments when he felt powerless. Even as a slave, he had control of how many crystals he dug up and if he lipped off to guards or delvers.

  "Keep snapping, the point is that it happened to you, but you don't have to go back."

  Dane tried. But he had very little success with the technique.

  "Don't worry, this is something you'll need to work on at home. I want you to go there and clean up everything."

  "How'd you know I needed to clean up?"

  The orc just gave him a flat look.

  "I'll see you tomorrow."

  The third, fourth, and fifth days blended together in a structured manner. He would jog first thing in the morning sometimes with the Doc and sometimes by himself. Each footfall made a rhythmic noise, which helped him stay present. The creek roared as the water trickled down.

  Then he would do bilateral therapy. This was where he struggle alot. Some memories, like when he thought Amelia had been killed by the Shade Devil or worse, when he was gifted her head, still took him to the moment.

  "Alright, I will sign off on your papers today."

  "That's great, but I don't feel changed."

  "And you are right. But you are good enough to\ following orders. Keep doing the exercises while you are deployed and see the counselor if you feel like you are backsliding."

  "Thank you, Doc."

  The Orc handed him a Dagger.

  "It's okay, I fight with conjured weapons."

  "That ain't for fighting. Most people forget that weapons are only a tool. Use that to whittle in your downtime. Carve something nice. A tool can be used for more than just killing; sometimes it can create or even fix."

  Dane let the words sink in, and he gratefully took the knife.