The morning mist hung heavy over the valley. Water cascaded endlessly from the cliffs, filling the air with a constant rumble. The light of dawn painted the rocks in shades of gold and silver, and Kai stood there, shirtless, feeling the cold air against his skin. His breath steamed in the chill. His first training stage had been completed—the proof was in the scars on his knuckles and the fragments of the shattered boulder behind him.
The old man sat cross-legged near the water, eyes closed. His white beard fluttered in the gentle wind. When he finally opened his eyes, his calm voice cut through the sound of the falls."Your body has adapted, Kai. But now begins something far more difficult."
Kai tilted his head slightly, still catching his breath. "What could be harder than smashing a mountain with my fists?"
The old man smiled faintly. "Breaking a stone requires strength. But controlling your energy requires understanding yourself. This is the second stage—the control of the soul's flow. If you fail this, your strength will consume you before your enemies ever get the chance."
Kai clenched his fists, excitement mixing with unease. "So… it's time to learn how to really use it, huh?"
"Exactly," the old man said, rising to his feet. "Now listen closely. The power you used against the boulder—your so-called Ruh Punch—was raw. You pushed your soul energy outward, but without shape or harmony. It was like swinging a sword made of fire—you burned yourself just as much as your target."
Kai frowned, recalling how the explosion of energy had nearly knocked him unconscious. "So, what do I do different this time?"
The old man stepped closer, pointing to Kai's chest. "The key lies here. Your heart. Every breath you take stirs the energy sleeping within it. To control your power, you must control your breath. When you inhale, your soul moves. When you exhale, it obeys."
Kai blinked. "So you're saying… breathing shapes my energy?"
The old man nodded. "It's not just breathing—it's rhythm. Flow. Harmony between your spirit and your body. Watch."
He closed his eyes. A faint glow pulsed around him—soft, like moonlight. His aura expanded, flowing through the air like waves in a lake. Even the falling water seemed to slow. Then, with one controlled exhale, the old man released a thin line of energy that carved a groove in the earth at his feet.
Kai's eyes widened. "That wasn't even an attack… it was like your energy listened to you."
"That's the difference between force and mastery," the old man replied. "Now, sit. Feel the water, the wind, the air. Forget the world. Find the rhythm of your soul."
Kai obeyed. He crossed his legs, closed his eyes, and tried to calm the storm within him. But every time he focused, memories rushed in—his first battle, his fear, his anger, the faces of those who had fallen. The water roared louder in his mind, drowning his concentration.
He groaned. "It's impossible… everything's too loud."
"Then silence it!" the old man's voice echoed. "If you can't command your own thoughts, how do you expect to command your power?"
Kai clenched his teeth. Sweat ran down his face. He took a deep breath, then another, and another. Slowly, the noise faded. The sound of the waterfall became distant, replaced by the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat.
He began to feel it—tiny sparks flowing beneath his skin, circling his chest, rising with each breath.
"There," the old man said softly. "Now hold it. Don't force it—guide it."
Kai focused, shaping the flow of energy through his arms. The air shimmered faintly around him. For a brief second, his hands glowed white-blue, but then—boom!—a burst of power erupted, launching him backward into the pool.
"Damn it!" Kai shouted, surfacing and coughing water.
The old man chuckled. "Too fast. You're not trying to crush mountains now—you're sculpting wind."
Kai pulled himself out of the water, dripping wet, and sat again. "Fine. Again."
And again he tried. Dozens of times. Each attempt ended in failure—bursts of uncontrolled energy, cracks in the earth, even a brief explosion that sent birds scattering from the cliffs. But he refused to stop.
By nightfall, the moon had risen. Kai's body trembled from exhaustion, but his eyes still burned with determination.
"Your body's giving out," the old man warned.
Kai shook his head. "No. Not yet."
He inhaled deeply one more time, feeling his chest expand, feeling the pulse of energy within him. But this time, he didn't force it. He listened. The rhythm was faint but clear—like the heartbeat of the earth. His breath synced with it, his aura aligning with the flow of the world around him.
He raised his hand, eyes glowing faintly white. The air around him rippled, not with violence, but with balance.
Then, gently, he exhaled—and a perfectly formed wave of energy extended from his palm, slicing through the mist and vanishing into the night.
The old man's expression softened. "You've done it."
Kai looked down at his hand, awe in his voice. "I… I can feel it. It's not wild anymore. It's like the energy finally trusts me."
"Good," the old man said. "That means you've entered the path of harmony. But remember—this is only the beginning. From now on, your enemies will not give you time to breathe. You must learn to command your power even in chaos."
Kai nodded, understanding the weight of those words.
"Rest for tonight," the old man continued. "Tomorrow, we begin the combat phase of your second training. You'll learn to use that control while moving—while fighting. That will decide whether you survive what's coming."
Kai stood, the moonlight casting a silver glow on his face. "I'll be ready. No matter what."
The old man turned toward the horizon, eyes narrowing. "You'd better be… because darkness stirs in Nexan."
Far away, under the crimson banners of Nexan Kingdom, the king sat in his throne room, surrounded by candlelight. The air was thick with tension. A soldier burst through the door, dropping to one knee.
"My King! Urgent news—from the Tedya region!"
The king leaned forward, eyes sharp. "Speak."
The messenger panted. "It's Neros, my lord. He's been seen in battle… with a foreigner. The fight has shaken the land itself."
The king's hand gripped the armrest. "Who won?"
The soldier lowered his head. "We… we don't know, my king."
Silence filled the room. The flickering candles cast shifting shadows on the walls as the king finally rose to his feet.
"So, it begins," he murmured, a dark smile crossing his face. "The world moves again… and fate is calling its players to the stage."