Jay stood in a place suspended between the sky and nothingness.
The clouds stretched as far as sight could reach, undulating like white seas colliding softly with one another. Upon that immense ocean of cotton rested a tiny patch of grass, a floating island no larger than a boat lost in a world without horizon. The wind blew slowly, warm, carrying a sweet aroma, almost as if the sky itself were breathing.
And there, on that impossible island, stood two figures completely different from each other.
A human from Earth named Jay Baker. And a jaguar covered in living flames, the Fire Elemental.
Both remained standing on the soft grass, staring directly into each other's eyes. Jay crossed his arms, trying to look serious, though he wasn't sure if he should be afraid, excited, or simply confused. The jaguar, on the other hand, looked bored, as if he had seen this moment a million times before.
A light breeze passed between them, moving Jay's shirt and making the jaguar's flames bend like the fire of a torch.
Jay was the first to break the silence.
"Hey, by the way, what's the training going to be?" he asked, scratching his head, unsure if he really wanted the answer.
The jaguar opened his mouth in a huge yawn. His fiery tongue moved lazily as he spoke.
"Well… what anyone would do to train," said the jaguar, his tone dripping with laziness and sarcasm, as if it were obvious.
Jay blinked, then looked away.
"That explains absolutely nothing," he muttered, resigned. But he decided not to insist. It was one of those situations where the more questions you asked… the fewer sensible answers you got.
After a moment, he spoke again.
"Hey, besides you… are there more elementals? I mean, are you some kind of leader or something?"
The jaguar flicked his tail, wrapping his body in small sparks.
"Yes, there are more," he replied without enthusiasm. "In total there are five. Earth, air, water, light… and me, fire. A complete package, I suppose."
Jay's eyes widened.
"Five? Hey, if there's one of light, shouldn't there also be one of darkness? You know, balance and all those super typical otherworld things."
The jaguar stopped looking at him and snorted.
"Ugh, shut up. You always ask too much. I won't answer," he said with the attitude of an annoyed child, fixing his gaze on the clouds as if refusing to continue.
Jay crossed his arms, puffed his cheeks, and muttered:
"What do you mean you won't answer? If I'm the one breaking my back training, you could at least help me…"
But before he could continue, something strange happened.
A ring of pure fire appeared above the jaguar's head. It wasn't large, but it floated perfectly, stable, like an angelic halo. The flames spun, emitting a golden glow that contrasted with the reddish flames of the jaguar's body. The air around vibrated softly, as if the halo's heat bent reality itself.
Jay stepped back, eyes wide.
"Hey… what's that? Now you look like… I don't know… some kind of angelic jaguar," he said in awe.
The jaguar lowered his ears slightly, as if annoyed at being seen that way.
"Originally it's always there," he replied dryly. "But most of the time I hide it. I got tired of hiding it… so I left it like this."
Jay stared at him like someone watching a strange phenomenon in the sky.
"An angelic fire jaguar? I don't know if I'm dreaming or living in a low-budget anime…" he whispered.
But the jaguar was losing patience. He stepped forward firmly, his flames intensifying, rising slightly as if reacting to his mood.
"Enough talk, monkey. Your training begins now," he said in a deeper, more serious voice, as if the air itself obeyed his command.
Jay swallowed hard.
The jaguar's gaze was so severe that even the clouds below seemed to freeze in place.
"And it's the last time I'll tell you…" the jaguar roared, raising his tail in command.
His flames burst upward as if answering a war cry.
"TAKE OFF YOUR SHIRT!!"
The shout echoed across the dimension, bouncing among the clouds like an endless echo.
Jay jumped in fright.
"WHY DOES TRAINING START WITH ME TAKING OFF MY SHIRT?! WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING?!"
The jaguar answered without hesitation:
"Because I say so. And because that's how fire is trained, monkey. Now obey!"
And so, upon an island suspended in an eternal sky, with a sun that never moved and a wind that seemed to sing, began the most absurd, exhausting, and dangerous training of Jay Baker's life.
A training he never asked for. A training he never wanted. But one that, ironically, would define his future more than any other.
Jay, after a long internal struggle, finally let his arms drop in resignation. He released a sigh so heavy it felt as though his soul escaped through his mouth.
"Alright… alright, happy now?" Jay muttered, as he clumsily pulled off his shirt, exhausted. "Satisfied? What's next?"
The warm air of that dimension brushed against his bare skin, and a small current of wind stirred the grass around him. The jaguar watched with the proud expression of someone who had won a pointless battle.
The jaguar yawned, as if nothing in the world concerned him.
"Now you'll train your speed and endurance for six months," he said with insulting calm.
Jay felt as though his soul left his body, collapsed to the ground, and screamed. His eyes widened.
"Six damn months just for that!? Half a year!? Even on Earth they didn't train like that, damn it!" Jay shouted, raising both hands.
The jaguar let out an arrogant chuckle.
"Of course. I'm the jaguar of fire. You could say I also control light, you know?"
Jay frowned so hard he looked like a skeptical old man.
"Control light? Isn't that the job of the elemental of… light?" Jay shouted, pointing at him with utter disbelief.
The jaguar tilted his head, as if realizing what he had just said.
"Oh? Did I really say it like that? My mistake. What I meant is that the elemental of light… is actually the elemental of energy. I misspoke."
Jay blinked several times.
"Elemental of energy…? Then what exactly does she do? What's her role?"
The jaguar flicked his tail, scattering small sparks into the air.
"Do you really want me to explain everything?" he asked in a tired voice. "Everything derived from energy belongs to her. Lightning, for example. Sure… she has some relation to light, but that's only when our powers combine. Why do you think stars emit so much heat and radiation?"
Jay raised an eyebrow, sarcasm written all over his face.
"But that's because stars have… nuclear fusion inside or something, right? I don't get the connection between fire and speed. You're not even the fastest animal. If it were about speed, the elemental should be a cheetah, don't you think?"
The jaguar roared so loudly the ground trembled, startling Jay.
"Listen, boy," the jaguar said in a grave, dangerous tone. "Just do as I say and don't argue with me. Otherwise, I can extinguish your body the same way I did with the dinosaurs."
Jay froze completely.
"What? What do dinosaurs have to do with you? And what does fire have to do with speed? And if you control part of light, then what role does the elemental of energy play? Does she just throw little lightning bolts?"
The jaguar narrowed one eye, as if he could see exactly what Jay was thinking… because he literally was.
"Hey, stupid Earthling," he said with annoyance. "Don't overthink it."
Jay threw his arms up, indignant.
"What do you mean don't think about it!? Nothing you say makes sense! It's got more holes than Swiss cheese! It's like talking to a badly written script!"
The jaguar roared so fiercely that a circle of fire erupted beneath his paws.
"Enough talk! Training begins now!"
The sound thundered across the floating island, making every blade of grass tremble and pushing Jay backward. The orange sky seemed to darken for an instant, and the hot wind blew as if the dimension itself responded to the jaguar's call.
Jay swallowed hard.
And so, with no more excuses and no escape possible, began the hellish training that would define his destiny… even though all he wanted was to return to his maids in their uniforms.
Jay's feet pressed against the clouds as they shifted beneath him. First they flattened like a carpet, then smoothed into a polished white onyx floor. In a heartbeat, the surface fractured into platforms: grassy islets, floating stone walkways, narrow crystal bridges linking the pieces. Below, magma churned—an ocean of lava spitting heat and orange light through the mist. Every misstep meant not just falling, but incineration.
Jay inhaled sharply, the air burning his lungs like distant smoke, his heart pounding in his throat.
"So… what do I have to do?" he asked, voice trembling, eyes locked on the jaguar.
The jaguar swelled—not in flesh but in presence. His body loomed to the size of a five‑story building, crimson eyes blazing like beacons, his voice thundering across the island.
"Run. If you don't want your soul incinerated, run," the elemental declared, grave yet tinged with ancient humor. "Look on the bright side: only six months. For us, that's a blink. You won't age, won't hunger or thirst. Just mental fatigue and muscle pain. Someone with your soul can endure it."
Jay swallowed hard. No time to protest. The jaguar's roar was the signal: the sky shifted again, forming a corridor, a vertical obstacle course stretching into infinity.
"Damn it!" Jay shouted, and launched himself forward.
The first day was instinct and humiliation. He ran harder than ever before—no GPS, no music, no neon lights, only the whistle of wind, the crunch of grass, and the pounding in his temples.
Step by step:
• Start: He sprang like a coiled spring. The first platform was slick with dew. His foot skimmed it, and he realized—friction was minimal. Shoes didn't grip as they did in Caracas. He learned to glide, to "kiss" the surface and push off instead of sticking.
• Jumps: Broken walkways, gaps of one to three meters. The danger wasn't distance but time in the air: magma's heat thickened the air, making the next platform vibrate like a hot drum. He learned to measure—short breath before takeoff, hips for momentum, legs stretched, rolling on landing to absorb impact. His knee burned like iron, but he kept going.
• Glass bridges: Long, transparent paths trembling with reflection. Rule: never stop. Hesitation meant vertigo, meant falling. Jay fixed his gaze on one point—the jaguar's red eye at the far end. Look down, and it was over. Look forward, and he lived.
• Dynamic obstacles: Rotating platforms, rising and falling blocks, fire columns opening gaps. Jay learned to read the rhythm: flames weren't random, they pulsed. He inhaled in the silence between bursts, accelerated on the beat, and passed through.
• Walls: A vertical climb demanded grip and drive. Bare‑handed, he dug fingers into protrusions, skin tearing, blood streaking. For the first time he understood "slope" as the jaguar meant. He hauled himself upward, thighs burning, waist twisting, and vaulted onto the next platform, gasping.
Each repetition was a lesson—not just physical, but mental. His first runs were clumsy, animalistic: arms flailing, breath uneven, feet searching for grip that wasn't there. The jaguar taught not with words but with presence: roaring, waiting, watching. Sometimes a lash of fire struck a platform, forcing Jay to anticipate and twist midair.
Heat seeped into his bones. Sweat slicked his skin, muscles flared like tiny fires. Ten minutes brought blisters; twenty, swollen ankles; thirty, a rhythm: inhale—push—don't doubt. Every mistake was punished by magma licking the platform's edge, a constant reminder of human fragility.
Yet sparks of progress appeared. By his fifth run, he found rhythm. He felt the platform through his soles, heard the echo of his steps, anticipated the sway of bridges. When the jaguar hurled a lateral flame, Jay pivoted, planted his outer leg, leaned his torso, and vaulted two slabs in one motion. Imperfect but effective. He exhaled in triumph; the jaguar growled, almost impressed.
"Not bad, monkey," was all the jaguar said—like rain that doesn't wet but promises growth.
Repetition saved him. Training wasn't one race but endless sets. Run, fall, rise, bind his feet with strips of torn shirt, run again. The eternal sky's stars shifted with his fatigue: pale yellow at first, then deep orange matching his breath; after twenty minutes without falling, a tempered red, signaling progress.
His body adapted. Breathing steadied, heartbeat calmed, legs—though aching—responded with less hesitation. He learned to use arms as counterweights, to tense his core mid‑jump, to roll on landing. He discovered how to rebound stored energy in his legs into extra momentum. Tricks born of necessity and cruel repetition.
Between sets, the jaguar barely moved. Observing. Sometimes a dry comment, sometimes silence. And when Jay collapsed onto grass smelling of hot ash, staring at the sky, he thought of Nekotina—her crying face, the unspoken promise to protect her. That thought gave him another lever, another reason not to fail.
Time in that dimension wasn't human time: what was dawn and dusk there equaled mere hours elsewhere. Jay didn't know, but his body began its slow transformation—fewer mistakes, surer steps, a new instinct born not of technique but survival.
At day's end, he dropped to his knees, clothes soaked, skin marked, tongue dry. The jaguar approached, releasing a warm breeze that didn't burn but soothed.
"You've improved a little," the jaguar said gravely. "This was only the first day. If you have will, tomorrow you'll repeat. And the next. Until it becomes natural."
Jay coughed, panting, but for the first time pride slipped through the pain.
"Damn… this really hurts," he muttered, but with a tone sharpened by fatigue, not defeat.
The jaguar sat, gazing at the endless horizon of clouds. His crimson eyes gleamed, as if telling an ancient story.
"Sleep. Tomorrow you'll start earlier," he warned—and promised.
Jay lay back on the grass. The stars shifted color with his pulse, and for the first time in a long while, he let exhaustion cradle him into a dream where, for an instant, no fall was possible.
Jay had endured ten days since that eternal sky‑bound hell began. By then, he felt a faint progress. Not large, not comfortable, but real—a tiny spark inside his exhausted body whispering that maybe, after all, he could survive there.
He especially remembered something the jaguar had told him on the fifth day. One of those talks that sounded more like riddles than explanations.
"As you can see, your soul is not like that of an ordinary human," the elemental had said while walking beside him across a bridge of clouds, as casually as if discussing the weather. "Not even like the humans of the new planet you now inhabit. The perfect example is this: we are the adults… and you are an embryo."
Jay never knew whether to feel insulted or worried. Probably both.
Now, on day ten, he was still sprinting at full speed across platforms that moved as if alive. He leapt from edge to edge, dodging fire columns that erupted faster and cracks that opened beneath his feet without warning.
The training never stopped.
And every time a failed jump slammed him against a platform or dropped him onto a scorching surface, the pain was so real he thought he might die right there.
But then the jaguar roared, and a circle of pure flames ignited around him.
Jay's wounds vanished, dissolving into the fire.
Panting, sweat running down his face, Jay asked:
"Is this… fire healing magic?"
"No. Not magic." The jaguar yawned, as if mending broken bones and deep burns were as trivial as blowing out a candle. "Well, at least not for us. It's the power of the Elementals. It has nothing to do with the magic of the planet you're in. Doesn't even use that orb humans rely on."
Jay ducked under a lateral blaze, rolled, and sprang onto another platform. As he moved, the jaguar kept speaking, like giving a lazy lecture:
"Those who possess an elemental soul can wield that power without restriction. The only real limits are the body and the mental state of the bearer. You carry the Soul of Life. You are not an elemental like us, but you represent existence itself."
Jay nearly slipped in shock.
"Life? What…?"
"Mother created you," the jaguar continued, ignoring the human's confusion. "You were the first human, the first fish, the first dinosaur, the first bacterium. Each time you die, your soul simply enters another body. It doesn't restructure like ordinary living beings. Your soul remains intact… but your body and mind do not. You are like an old game controller with a nuclear battery: the battery stays intact, but the controller wears out from the radiation."
Jay stopped short, almost fell, and shouted:
"What kind of explanation is that?! I didn't even understand what you meant… and you think that helps me?!"
The jaguar growled deeply, annoyed.
"Run, bastard, run!"
Jay screamed in frustration and kept running, the jaguar chasing him with fiery claws that nearly grazed his back.
And so the tenth day of training continued: Jay running without rest, cursing the jaguar, and the jaguar roaring as if proud to torment him.
The eternal sky burned on in its endless sunset, and the training was only just beginning.