I believe this was the eleventh time I had awakened from death, and my Anima Depth had grown from thirty-four to fifty.
Arc Lightning was one rank from the threshold that would shape its next evolution. For me to see growth in this spell, I would have to begin using it more consciously; I could not just shoot and forget, but directly manipulate the lightning bolt.
Surge was close behind, and it was relatively easier for me to develop this spell. Threadwork was growing more quickly than I thought.
Endurance was up by four; my body had absorbed punishment that would have killed a normal Acolyte three times over, and the body had returned the work as growth.
Marksman at thirty-eight, sliding toward forty. Concentration at forty-four.
Some of my other skills, like Anima Sensitivity and Meditation, had not grown as much, but there was little I could do about this.
The key, I believe, was to live longer, and if I could not, make sure I pushed myself to the brink every time.
