My arms ached, my body still battered with bruises and cuts that hadn't fully healed, yet Serin insisted we begin training. Her voice, calm but insistent, cut through the haze of my exhaustion.
> "Catch me," she commanded, transforming seamlessly into her white fox form. "Breathe through the air, not against it. Shape it, like water."
I kept my mask on, nodding, and tried to manipulate the air around me for more oxygen. At first, it worked—the wind flowed smooth and light, supporting each gasp—but soon my legs faltered. My chest burned, and a sharp dizziness clawed at the edges of my mind. My stomach rebelled, and I vomited, vision flickering red at the edges.
Serin returned to her human form without hesitation. She caught me with ease—not over her shoulder, but holding me upright, letting my weight rest naturally against her. Warmth radiated from her hands, spreading through my back and limbs. The sensation was both strange and comforting.
> "Healing mana," she murmured softly. "Your core is intact, but your brain isn't letting your body recover fully. Mana channels are damaged."
I shivered slightly as her hands lingered along my shoulders, feeling energy pulse along my veins. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it made my body feel alive again.
---
We soon reached the chamber where the Elites waited. Five of them—Serin's remaining warriors—stood ready. Mira Solace approached first. Platinum-white hair cascaded over her shoulders, her warm bronze skin glimmering beneath silver armor etched with constellational designs. Her deep blue eyes swept over me, calm and calculating. I kept my mask on, silent.
> "Ice affinity," she said, voice even. "I'm Mira Solace."
I gave a small nod. No introduction. No name. Serin's orders were clear.she said to elites she was not allowed to tell his info because he still a teen all were shocked but not continue further and introduce themselves
Next was Arina Vale. Dark hair pulled back tightly, amber eyes intelligent and alert. Bronze armor traced with soft green runes glimmered as she moved.
> "Barrier and healing magic," she said.
Ravia Dawn followed, a surge of heat and motion. Her red hair whipped around her molten gold eyes, blackened steel armor etched with flame-like patterns.
> "Fire affinity. Ravia Dawn."
Then Lucean Draev, his golden hair falling softly, sky-blue eyes glowing faintly. White-and-gold armor reflected an inner light, calm and precise.
Finally, Azeir Kaelith stepped forward. His unkempt dark hair and beard framed piercing moss-green eyes. Leather-bound bronze armor bore real moss and tiny vines, grounding him in ancient, earthy power.
Serin stepped back slightly, observing the group.
> "These are the five remaining Elites," she said quietly.
The team's gaze swept over me. Still masked, fragile, exhausted. Faint laughter echoed somewhere in the chamber. Cards shuffled, a teasing sound that made the hairs on my neck prickle. Serin and the masked figure—silent until now—were playing a subtle game, orchestrating my frustration without revealing themselves.
---
The healing began. The masked figure summoned a soft wind, lifting me gently into the air. Arina cast a transparent barrier around me. Azeir channeled earthy regeneration into my body, secreting hormones and proteins to accelerate repair. Lucean produced a light like soft sunlight, supplying passive vitamin D. Ravia adjusted the temperature inside the barrier to 98.6°F, stabilizing my core.
Serin added her touch: tiny green motes drifting like snow, weaving through the barrier. I felt each pulse of energy ripple along my veins. My chest, my legs, even my battered arms tingled as fatigue and pain slowly receded.
> "Hold still," Serin murmured. "Mira, freeze him at the neck. Controlled healing is more efficient this way."
I felt my body suspended in a strange, weightless awareness. Faint teasing noises, the shuffle of cards, and soft chuckles floated around me. I could sense the masked figure's precise manipulations—small gusts of wind, subtle shifts in sound. My voice echoed back at me, distorted, as if the room itself was mocking my muffled protests.
Thirty minutes passed. My limbs tingled with renewed vitality, core stabilized, breathing steady. Mira carefully released the freeze, letting my body move freely.
I stood slowly, muscles stretching and cracking, feeling alive yet exhausted. A heat pooled in my chest, a slow bloom of energy and power. I took a deep breath. My hands flexed; mana hummed through my veins. For a moment, I almost smiled.
And then—everything stopped.
The masked figure's wind swirled silently, and my body froze, held mid-step. Not in pain, but in perfect suspension. Serin's soft voice reached me over the magical manipulation:
> "Silent Tempest, play nice."
I realized then the teasing. Cards clicked faintly in the background, soft laughter echoing, subtle and controlled. The masked figure and Serin were quietly orchestrating the scene, testing my reactions, my patience. I couldn't move, couldn't respond—but I could feel them watching, smiling behind their masks.
---
As I hung suspended, I noticed every detail I had missed while exhausted: Mira's calm composure, Arina's quiet warmth, Ravia's firelike intensity, Lucean's serene control, Azeir's unyielding presence. Each of them radiated power tempered by skill and experience. And Serin—calm, commanding, a silent commander orchestrating everything.
The freeze ended slowly. My feet touched the floor. Muscles quivered as I flexed, testing the healing. My heart raced—not from exertion, but from the realization: this wasn't just training. This was preparation. For the battles I had yet to face.
> "Warm yourself," Serin instructed. "Your brain cannot catch cold after healing."
I stretched, feeling the residual warmth, the subtle lingering pulses of Serin's mana and the barrier's stabilizing energy.
> "Ready for a mock battle? Four versus four," Serin asked, voice calm but firm.
Ravia's grin flashed like fire.
> "We want to test the kid who fought fifteen demons alone."
Azeir's deep chuckle rolled like distant stone.
> "Then let's begin."
Around me, the Elites shifted into formation, poised, patient, deadly. The masked figure and Serin exchanged quiet glances. Their teasing game had ended, but the undercurrent remained—silent, controlled, a reminder that I was being watched.
My chest tightened, but it wasn't fear. It was awe, determination, and the faintest thrill of anticipation. The war had already begun, and I would no longer face it alone.