Chapter 11: The First-Rate Test
It had been three days since Rhaizen defeated the Crimson Fang bandits and rescued Leo's family. His body still ached from overusing his Qi during that battle, and every joint reminded him of the effort. Yet, he had no time to rest. Ahead of him, the dirt road stretched toward the next settlement, and rumors told of a Crimson Fang scouting post nearby.
Rhaizen kept moving. His steps were careful but deliberate. Every movement, every breath, was measured. He felt the black-red aura of his Qi pulsing softly around him, a reminder of the power he now carried and the cost it demanded.
He stopped in a small clearing to train before entering the forest that lay ahead. First, he tested Crimson Step, dashing forward and backward, weaving between trees and rocks, feeling the way his Qi enhanced his movement. The glow of his aura followed every step, reacting to his intent. He let his mind clear and focused only on the rhythm of his Qi and his body.
Next came Crimson Strike. Rhaizen formed his fist, feeling the heat gather within his palm. He struck a tree with a short arc, and flames licked along his knuckles. The bark scorched, smoke curling upward, and he grinned. Controlling the technique was difficult. Every strike consumed more energy than he anticipated. He practiced again and again, pushing through the burn in his arms and the heat spreading through his chest.
By the time he was satisfied, the sun had risen high. Sweat poured down his face. He wiped it away and looked toward the forest. His gut told him that danger was near. And he was right.
---
Voices carried on the wind. Low, harsh, and deliberate. Rhaizen froze. He could make out the sound of boots on dry leaves and metal clanging against straps.
"Who's out there?" a deep voice barked.
Rhaizen crouched behind a fallen log, scanning. Five men appeared first, wearing red cloths on their arms — lesser Crimson Fang operatives. But behind them, taller and broader, a single figure stepped into the clearing. His presence was different. Stronger. His stance confident, movements measured.
A First-Rate Warrior.
Rhaizen's heart beat faster. This was no ordinary skirmish. This was a test, and he couldn't afford mistakes.
The First-Rate Warrior's eyes swept over Rhaizen. "You're the boy they talk about?" he asked, voice low but commanding. "Not bad, they say you fought well. But I'm First-Rate. You won't leave here standing."
Rhaizen didn't answer. He clenched his fists, feeling his Qi flare and the black-red glow encasing his body. He could feel the fire of his Crimson Flame Fist at the edge of his control, the potential to strike hard and fast, but he forced himself to remain calm.
---
The fight began.
The First-Rate Warrior moved first, charging with a wide swing of a heavy sword. Rhaizen sidestepped with Crimson Step, feeling his muscles respond faster than before. The aura around him shimmered, reflecting the energy flowing in precise harmony.
He countered with a punch powered by his Qi. The black-red aura wrapped around his fist, striking the warrior's side. The man grunted, more in surprise than pain, and backpedaled, testing Rhaizen's defenses.
Rhaizen could see the gap in his timing. The First-Rate Warrior's strikes were heavier, faster, and more deliberate than anything he had faced before. One misstep could be fatal.
Another swing. Rhaizen dodged, rolling low to the ground. He sprang up with a Crimson Step dash, closing the distance and striking a second time. Flames licked his knuckles — the Crimson Flame Fist manifesting naturally as his instinctive output. The strike hit the warrior's arm, knocking the weapon slightly off course.
The First-Rate Warrior's eyes narrowed. He smiled. "Impressive," he said, swinging again. "But not enough."
Rhaizen's muscles screamed. His Qi began to burn in his chest. Every strike, every step, took more energy than before, and he had to think carefully. Conserving power meant controlling the Crimson Flame Fist and using Crimson Step strategically.
---
The skirmish continued.
Rhaizen dodged, blocked, and struck in a rhythm that almost seemed chaotic but was guided entirely by instinct and training. His opponent's strength forced him to adapt. He tried a new approach — moving around the warrior in circles, letting his aura flare as he timed the perfect strike.
When the opportunity came, he combined techniques. He dashed behind the warrior with Crimson Step, using the speed to close the distance. His fist ignited with flames, the Crimson Flame Fist powered by his Qi, and he swung — a combination he hadn't fully practiced.
The strike hit the warrior's shoulder, sending him stumbling forward. The force created a small shockwave, throwing several smaller bandits behind him off their feet.
But the cost was immediate. Rhaizen's Qi drained rapidly. His breathing grew heavier. His vision blurred at the edges, and the heat from the fire burned through his arm. He had never pushed himself this far before.
---
The First-Rate Warrior recovered quickly, blocking a follow-up with his forearm. He glared at Rhaizen. "You're strong… for a boy. But raw power is not enough."
Rhaizen gritted his teeth, ignoring the fatigue burning through his muscles. He remembered his promise — not to Leo, not to the villagers, but to himself. He would survive. He would grow stronger. He wouldn't fall again.
He adjusted his stance, using Crimson Step again to reposition and strike from an unexpected angle. This time, he tried something new — not a single punch, but a rapid succession of controlled Crimson Strikes, each empowered by his Qi. The fire followed his motion in arcs, burning the ground where each hit landed.
The First-Rate Warrior stumbled backward. "Enough!" he shouted, swinging his sword to clear the flames.
Rhaizen blocked with a quick dash forward, fire trailing his arm. Crimson Step gave him the mobility to stay just out of reach while he struck again. The warrior was skilled, but Rhaizen's combination of movement and fire forced him to adapt.
---
Hours seemed to pass in minutes. Sweat ran down Rhaizen's face. Cuts and bruises covered his body, yet he pressed on. Every move was calculated, yet instinctive. The First-Rate Warrior began to respect his persistence, reacting carefully, throwing measured attacks instead of reckless swings.
Rhaizen realized something crucial — this fight wasn't just about raw power. It was about endurance, timing, and precision. He couldn't rely solely on his Crimson Flame Fist; he had to blend it with Crimson Step, and use his Qi wisely.
He noticed an opening — a misstep from the warrior after overextending a strike. Rhaizen lunged forward, combining Crimson Step with a Crimson Strike aimed at the opponent's midsection. Flames burned brighter than before, the heat radiating off his fist, and the strike landed.
The warrior grunted, staggered, and barely maintained his footing. Rhaizen felt the burn in his chest and arms, but he didn't stop. He used Crimson Step again, a quick pivot, and followed up with a second, faster strike. This time, he pulled back at the last second, leaving the warrior off-balance but still standing.
Rhaizen fell back, crouching slightly to catch his breath. His aura glowed faintly around him, indicating the last reserves of his Qi. The First-Rate Warrior's chest heaved. He wiped blood from his lip and smiled, almost approvingly.
"You've grown," he said. "Not just in strength… in control."
Rhaizen's body shook, exhaustion threatening to collapse him. Yet, a sense of accomplishment burned brighter than the pain. He had survived. He had fought without a weapon, relying only on his body, his Qi, and his new techniques.
"I… still have a long way to go," Rhaizen said through gritted teeth, his voice low. "But… I can do this. I have to."
The warrior nodded and stepped back, signaling the end of the fight. He sheathed his sword and turned away, leaving Rhaizen standing alone in the clearing.
Rhaizen sank to his knees, burning from the exertion, sweat and blood mixing with dirt. But there was a calm beneath the exhaustion. He had tested Crimson Step and Crimson Strike in a real fight, pushed his limits, and survived against a First-Rate Warrior.
He looked at his hands, still tinged with faint red and black glow. He could feel the fire pulsing in his palms, waiting for him to use it again.
Rhaizen exhaled slowly. "Next town," he muttered. "I need to recover… gather supplies… and continue growing. There will be stronger opponents. There will be tougher fights. But I… I can handle it."
For the first time in a long while, Rhaizen felt a flicker of confidence. Not pride, not arrogance — just certainty that he could keep moving forward. That certainty, more than any technique, more than any power, would keep him alive.
And with that thought, he stood, adjusting his posture, letting his aura dim slightly as he prepared to continue his journey toward the next town, toward more challenges, and toward becoming stronger than anyone who had ever tried to stop him.