Rey let his expression settle back to normal, even though the little liger cub on his head looked like she was about to fall asleep.
"Would you be willing to help me in that situation, as my teacher?" he asked.
"Only if your eyes ask it of me."
As if he wanted to confirm a suspicion, Heroclades threw out a statement wrapped in a sharp, serious stare:
"Then you do know what I mean by the word 'allies,'" he said in a low voice, as if sharing a secret, as if a crime were about to be committed.
Someone naïve could not survive. But his disciple was not entirely naïve. If he truly remembered things from when he was small, he must have noticed Katherine's intentions.
"Your behavior when you said goodbye to your brothers gave me a clue," Heroclades went on, like a good investigator. "You want and expect them to still be your family when they come back from their training—especially because you noticed that both Katherine and Miján feel uncomfortable with your presence in the pack, and that they might influence your brothers' thoughts. You also know why your brothers have something you don't. Am I wrong?"
Rey shook his head at that last question.
Slipping back into his playful nature, Heroclades continued:
"In conclusion, we'll 'train' during the day whenever you return, and every night you'll have the chance to test your strength as you try to be free—to learn whatever you want, and to find a way to escape your weakness, Katherine, Miján, your parents, and, if you're lucky, the initiation process."
"Heroclades…" Rey began, only to be cut off by his teacher.
With one finger raised, Heroclades corrected him:
"You can call me Hero, like the others do… I'm listening."
Rey corrected himself and tried again.
"Hero," he said, "do you really think I won't be able to reach the strength I need to face any situation?"
There was distrust, arrogance, and pride in his tone—as if he still didn't fully believe the motives behind giving him the chance to escape when that was clearly the last thing his mother wanted to happen.
Heroclades held his breath for a moment. From the way Rey had chosen his words, he realized the boy knew something he himself might not know. His disciple was too young and supposedly too naïve to speak with that kind of certainty if it were just a bluff.
With a smile returning to his face, he drew in air again and said:
"That attitude. You remind me of the great heroes who have lived throughout history. They were people who feared nothing. They stared death in the eyes. They were used to fighting and always standing firm without backing down.
"Though they all had one thing in common: to become what they were, they had gone through countless ordeals and odysseys that no one would have believed possible. If I were to say such a miracle is impossible, I'm sure tears of sorrow would start to fall."
"I feel more at ease knowing I can count on you," Rey replied with a faint smile.
"I like your drive," Hero answered. "And I'm telling you, you'll be a victor like those heroes. With the color of your eyes, and after the first impression you gave all of us when you fell from the sky, the fact that you're still alive is nothing short of a true miracle!"
Dropping one knee to the ground, he rested his right arm on his disciple's left shoulder and went on:
"Back to the point. Pay attention… Rey, what separates winners from losers is that winners take everything as a challenge, and losers only find excuses to try to escape their position.
"I know and trust that every time you come back from that forest, you'll have a better sense of what your path is—another layer of experience, and more knowledge.
"Right now, it might sound like a crazy idea to you, but tell me: what better teachers could there be in this place than the trees that make up the Forest That Is Always Changing?"
Rey looked at the old man with doubtful eyes. Trees didn't speak; how could they be the best teachers if they couldn't teach with words, much less explain anything?
Heroclades went on:
"They didn't grow to that size or become what they are without first enduring the bites of time, fighting against the wind, the rain, and the earth itself."
He paused, then burst out laughing. Despite how much nonsense he'd just rambled, the boy was still listening to him, those white eyes fixed on him as if they were vortices swallowing everything.
After giving himself a quick slap to the forehead and standing up, he decided to stop drifting and continued:
"To be honest with you, I'm in a good mood, and I'm also going to take some time to build the place we're going to live in. You can go and put my theory to the test—I'll leave that as your first assignment.
"While you think things through and form your own conclusions, try to learn from the trees and from nature. Nature is far wiser than I am. Don't forget to take some food with you for the road, and carve my last pieces of advice deep into that mind of yours."
Rey nodded.
Heroclades went on:
"May pain, sweat, blood, and victory keep you alive! Fighting is taking life and death by the hand while you dance in a field full of possibilities!
"If you want to learn how to dance in that storm, don't focus on the possibilities—focus on your body and don't be afraid to improvise!"
Rey drew in a deep breath at his teacher's fiery words, then turned around and walked off through the undergrowth toward the forest.
He walked on until he was sure Heroclades could no longer see him, moving like a cat that has just stolen food—ready to bolt and dodge any blow. But no reprimand came. He continued on, far enough that he stepped into a world completely open and new.
The bright sky in the distance felt as close as the grass at his feet. Even so, when he reached out his hand, he couldn't grasp it—the sky—unlike the blades of grass.
Rey stared at the black trees rising tall and sovereign, the ones he could finally reach, and behind them, perhaps, a distant desire that smelled like freedom.
Rey knew he had to fend for himself in that place. It was nice to daydream, but reality could become incompatible with life at any moment.
"I've never seen anyone die, and I don't know how it feels to kill," he told himself.
He had to be strong— as strong as he could possibly become. He also had to learn— as much as experience could teach him— and keep moving forward until nothing was out of his reach.
Still with the little guardian-of-Paradise liger cub on his head, Rey noticed a massive white bulk moving on all fours across the clearing. The animal was almost three times bigger than a liger and seemed to be grazing. It looked harmless and calm, even with a gigantic feline watching it from the brush, lying in wait.
"Do you know him?" Rey asked the little feline, who only answered with a grumble.
"I'm going to take that as a 'no.' Either way, it'll be interesting to watch, don't you think?" he added, but this time the cub gave no reply.
"By the way, I should probably give you a name," Rey went on, thinking out loud. "Hmmmm. I'll come up with something for you later. Right now, I don't think it's that important…"
…
At that very moment, somewhere else, Maryam's fury showed itself through a fragile smile that was about to crack. Even as she kept that smile on her face, the mother couldn't understand how it was possible that she had to be separated from her children when they were literally only one day old.
Trying to calm her, Wulfgang attempted to explain:
"So far we've managed to confirm that Jhades is intelligent, Dante is strong, and Rey is adaptable enough that they won't die by their own incompetence. Regardless of their flaws, that still isn't enough for them to belong to the group.
"We live in a constant state of war. We're not safe even when we sleep, and at any moment we could die because of the consequences of our past actions. We can't give them love and make them vulnerable—not now."
"I know that if we give them love and security, they'll become dependent on us," Maryam said, "and they'll be helpless in front of problems they won't be able to solve, because they never had to learn how. Even so, I'm afraid."
"Afraid of what? They will not have lived long, but their bodies already have the conditions they need to begin the life of a fighter and forge a hard character."
"It's not that I can't hide it," she murmured, "but I'm still afraid."
"Maryam, they're not human," Wulfgang said. "They're not going to live a hundred years. Whether they suffer or not, whether they stay with us or are raised inside a circle of love and affection, the result will be mental weakness and inconvenient feelings when it comes time to survive."
"I know they're not human. But that's not the issue…"
"What is it that makes you feel afraid?"
"If one of them is so extraordinary that he manages to escape…" Maryam replied, her voice tightening. "Heroclades could betray us. I don't trust him when he's away from us; he's famous for having the ability to 'corrupt the youth.' Or if Katherine finds a way to kill Rey behind our backs. If they all end up hating each other…"
"My love, you know that under my nose there's no one who can truly escape, as long as I can recognize the essence of their scent," Wulfgang said. "With my sense of smell I can pull out an indefinite amount of time from the past and know everything someone did or failed to do.
"They'll spend most of the time in separate places: fighting, training, learning, sleeping, or exposed to extreme situations—feeling pain, going without clothes, bathing in freezing water, finding their own food, securing shelter, learning how to treat wounds, going hungry, cold, and sleepless…"
Maryam tried to speak.
"Yes, but—"
She was interrupted when her husband took hold of her shoulders.
"You don't have to worry about Hero," he said firmly. "From the beginning he volunteered to take my place in training my most problematic son.
"It's true that Rey might discover certain truths and, at night, maybe try to enter the Forest That Is Always Changing in order to escape. But that forest is an entire gigantic world in itself—a world that is not designed to be crossed once someone goes in, unless it's the old man or the guardians of the place."
Knowing that this was exactly the part Maryam disagreed with, the wolf understood that if one of his children ever found the exit, then he too could find it by following the scent, and chase after them back toward freedom.
"Maryam, right now I have no need to look for freedom," Wulfgang said. "Not when I have you, and I have problems I must take responsibility for.
"As you yourself said: 'Being in a safe place doesn't mean my responsibilities as a father are over. Who guarantees your future won't be in danger once they grow up and I'm no longer here?'
"I'm fulfilling my purpose. Since they weren't born physically deformed, only the stress of rigorous training and facing adversity will allow them to awaken and control their bodies, minds, and murderous instincts.
"After they develop a character that can withstand anything and they can fend for themselves, we'll see who keeps their values of obedience, friendship, and honor. Then we'll see who is capable of controlling their instincts and who will be accepted by the other members of the pack.
"But if we don't subject them to constant stress now, in the future they'll become time bombs. We won't know who will explode first, or how to control them. On top of that, there are still the bounty hunters who followed them to this place."
Maryam fell silent. She looked like someone who had no choice, yet she didn't want to seem desperate in front of her beloved. Taking a deep breath, she glanced around the house, as if searching for something that was missing. Her smile shattered when her eyes returned to Wulfgang's face.
"Tonight… I don't want to sleep…" she said, starting to cry.
From her words, Wulfgang understood that the vampire only wanted to delay time for as long as she could. Every time she woke up, it felt as if life itself struck her, and with every blow her grip weakened on that rope she clung to so desperately in order to keep him with her until he grew old and died of age.
That night, there was no sex for the werewolf—only sadness and depression from the vampire. Inevitably, Wulfgang fell asleep at some point, before she did.
…
The first night came to its conclusion.
As soon as the lights returned, the werewolf woke up. Growing attached to the pleasant feeling of being wrapped in silky sheets, Wulfgang drew in a deep breath. Without opening his eyes, in the darkness, a pale blue shape appeared in his perception, representing his beloved—as well as everything she had done the previous night after he had fallen asleep without noticing.
She hadn't gotten out of bed; she had only tossed and turned, again and again, like someone searching for the perfect position to finally fall asleep.
Suddenly, traces of a white mass appeared within the werewolf's field of perception—a small knot of scent that, judging by its position, had stopped right in front of the bedroom door.
"Darling, what's going on?!" Maryam asked, barely recognizing her husband as he sprang out of bed in a single leap and, like a storm, flung the door open with the back of his right hand.
The werewolf sniffed once, then again, while he walked forward with heavy, decisive steps, his body shifting into its bestial form.
Ehimus, stepping out of his room after hearing the door being yanked open from the master bedroom, found the leader of the group in "attack mode," staring Silvia up and down. The maid hadn't moved an inch; she stood in place with her head bowed.
With his fangs bared, the beast-like werewolf scolded Silvia, while the vampire tilted her face and smiled, already able to imagine what was going on.
"Good, good morning, my tenants!!" said the Great Wise Mage as he threw open the main entrance with his usual surge of energy and charisma.
Once Wulfgang shifted his gaze toward him, the old man went on:
"I think Silvia can go back to her daily routine. She hasn't broken any of 'the maid's rules,' so I don't see any reason to punish her. You, on the other hand, Wulfgang, are not exactly behaving in the most polite way.
"We need to talk. As steward and guardian, I can explain…"
…
On the other hand, dawn inside the Forest That Is Always Changing was different. There, where the nameless boy slowly opened his eyes, everything seemed a little less troublesome.
"I wonder if it'll be bright, or if I'm still living inside the eternal night," Rey couldn't help asking himself. He felt rested, full of energy, uninjured, not hungry, with a book in his arms and his companion beside him—almost as if he had been born a second time.
Not much had changed to the boy's eyes. With his gaze open and still, he stared at the familiar ceiling of the burrow, made of interwoven roots inside the hollow trunk of a gigantic tree. After blinking twice, Rey turned his head to see if what he felt was real.
Stretched out beside him lay the small "guardian-of-Paradise" liger cub. His faithful companion had just woken up. She extended her front paws until her claws slipped out, then arched her back to stretch her spine, and finally reached her tail so far that it almost brushed the ceiling. Stretching was a good way to wake up her sleepy muscles and get her blood flowing before starting the usual routine.
Rey took a deep breath, and as the corners of his mouth widened, happiness showed across his face. Dropping the book to the side, he threw himself forward and hugged her with all his strength as she woke and greeted him with a warm purr.
"Sit on top of me! Let me hug you. I need to feel how much you care about me!" Rey said.
Scooping the little feline up in both hands, he buried his face in her white-and-black fur. He stayed like that for a while before lifting his head, eyes shadowed with sorrow, and whispering an apology.
The liger cub was a bit overwhelmed. Ignoring the fact that she had been caught by surprise, she wanted to wriggle free, to twist from side to side and slip out of his grasp, but she was afraid of clawing the boy. Rey lifted his face with a look that was equal parts fondness and guilt—expressions that begged forgiveness for having put both their lives in danger, and that said how deeply he felt the situation she had ended up in because of him.
"I'm going to do my best to learn from this and move forward… As long as I'm alive, I can make it right, no matter how bad it was… Trust me, okay?"
The young "guardian-of-Paradise" cub didn't understand what the boy was saying, but she could feel that he was suffering, and had suffered, because of her. That, she didn't like at all. It was true they had found her father the night before, but she barely remembered more than being struck by him and then tirelessly cared for by the boy now holding her.
Trying to cheer him up, she ran her tongue along his face, purred louder, twisted around more energetically, and rubbed her fur against his cheeks in an attempt to change his expression.
Suddenly, the scene was interrupted by the behavior of the great book that had been left on the ground. The knowledge-storing object turned into light and vanished into the air. Rey didn't think much of it. He figured that must be how a book burned when it was consumed by the fire of time—or that it simply returned to wherever it belonged.
Realizing there was nothing he could do, he chose to laugh instead and let his face relax. With a warm smile, he ruffled his companion's head, then stood up and headed for the exit of the burrow.
Even though the forest was naturally dark, once Rey stepped out of the cave, the light coming from the Heaven reached him and brushed one side of his face, like a gentle, discreet greeting. Focusing his eyes on the glow between the distant trees, the boy felt thousands of thoughts flood his mind.
Images of how long he had kept running. Feelings of pushing forward until his very last drop of energy. The smell of water, the heat of fire, the cold of snow, the stickiness of mud, the burn of smoke, the hardness of floating stones. He had to admit he hadn't expected to be this close to the entrance—and that nothing disappointed him as much as that, after all his effort.
On the verge of letting his blood boil and smashing the nearest tree to pieces with his fists, he forced himself to calm down with a thought: "The forest must have changed its structure while we were sleeping."
Looking back at his companion, he recovered his composure and acted as if there were something more important to do.
"You know what? I learned an interesting word… White. What do you think of that for a name?"
The little creature stuck out her tongue and stared toward the light with curiosity, completely ignoring what the boy was saying. She could understand certain basic words, as well as behaviors and gestures, but her "culture" didn't go so far as to grasp the meaning or importance of a name.
"White will be your name and your path to greatness," Rey declared. "I can't keep having you by my side without knowing what to call you."
Taking a step forward, Rey stroked between the cub's upright ears—his newly named White—and then continued walking toward the light. His footsteps echoed through the hollow darkness, between the trees of the metallic forest. The divine light pointed the way and held an entire magnificent landscape within its embrace. Rey walked at his own pace, not like someone defeated and forced to return, but like a victor heading back in search of his family.
Once the two small figures passed the barrier of trees and stepped into the green grasslands, they had to squint until it became easy to see inside the radiant light.
They were hit with a great surprise when they found Heroclades waiting for them, arms crossed, wearing a smug smile and a haughty posture, like someone who had just won a bet.
"How did you know I'd come out through this part of the forest?" Rey asked, then immediately added in a sharp voice, his gaze turning intimidating, "A spell?"
Heroclades noticed movements in Rey that were characteristic of a nocturnal predator.
"Whoa! After just one night, you're already able to let such killing intent slip out. You surprise me, little one…"
Uncrossing his arms, the bronze-skinned man raised his open palms in front of his chest, like someone who wanted no fight. He had honestly been expecting the attitude of a broken prisoner, but instead he had the impression of standing before a defiant, self-assured beast—one that had lost all sense of discipline, friendship, and honor after learning how to fend for itself.
"Training hasn't even started yet, my dear disciple. And yes, you got it right on the first try. I placed a spell on you—but only so I could find you before your parents did. I have a warning to give you…"
Rey smiled and took a step forward, opening his stance as if he needed to occupy more space.
"Hero, I'm still me. Rey. Why are you acting like this, as if I'd turned into some beast you need to reason with…?"
Heroclades rubbed the back of his neck, like someone whose thoughts had just been read.
"Well, I figured I wouldn't get anywhere unless I earned your trust first. And what better way to win someone's trust than by sparking their curiosity and nudging them to accept something?
"I've confirmed this more than hundreds of times: if someone is suspicious, you can't talk directly to their most reflective side—you end up talking to their most distrustful side. I wanted to distract you first and then, little by little, move into the real topic."
"What topic?" Rey asked, stepping closer to his teacher.
Hands on his hips, Heroclades continued:
"In front of your father's nose, there are no lies and no one who can escape. So if you did anything you weren't supposed to last night, you'd better start thinking up an explanation for when he arrives. He can know everything that happened—but not what was said. That's one of your advantages over your father.
"Your mother, however, is a walking lie detector. Not only can she control and trigger emotions in those around her, she can also pick up the slightest physiological changes in someone's body when they speak. So you'll have to keep the two of them separate."
Rey nodded, accepting what he couldn't control, and calmly added:
"When will we start training?"
Heroclades opened his eyes wide, as if they were about to pop out, and stroked his beard while he searched his memory. He wanted to be sure he had actually warned the boy about how rigorous the training would be. For a normal person, if something was going to be harsh and painful, it was only natural to avoid it as much as possible.
"You don't have any questions before we begin?" he asked.
"Killing intent?" Rey asked, a bit confused.
Heroclades still couldn't stop being surprised.
"I almost forgot! You'd better learn how to control that killing intent before your father arrives. Let me explain something. Pay attention, because it won't be easy."
The master raised his fist in the air, his gaze darkening as he let loose an aura soaked in bloodlust that made White's fur stand on end.
"Killing intent in someone is like the intimidating appearance of a weapon. Take a sword's edge, its size, or its design, for example. These are the things that make it menacing and tell everyone around it, 'I exist for one purpose: to harm,' right?"
The bronze-skinned man drew back the pressure his body was emanating and went on:
"It's the same with killing intent. It's the impression your body creates to let anyone who sees you know that you're ready to hurt them if they touch your edge. Advanced fighters can read their enemies' killing intent. They can even sense when they're being watched and, as is common, they prepare ahead of time for a possible attack."
Interested, Rey looked down at his own hands.
"Like when you raised your hands with your palms open. It looked more like a defensive stance in close combat—less intimidating, meant to defuse the situation."
Heroclades, pleased by his disciple's sharpness, said:
"Exactly… A sword will never stop being a sword, and even if its edge is dull and rusted, it will still be what it is. But when a sword is inside its scabbard or in a box, it's less intimidating—and that is the secret to controlling your killing intent."
"What am I supposed to do?" Rey asked, his tone obedient.
Heroclades could see that, although his disciple was as arrogant and proud as he seemed, he was also someone who craved any method that could make him stronger.
"I was once where you are now," Heroclades said. "I have the experience you need, but that doesn't mean I have a good way of teaching it. What I do and think with my killing intent is like moving my arm. I've lived so long that it's become a second nature of my body.
"I have to confess, it's not easy for me to explain something I can do naturally. For you to understand and progress, you'll have to follow my instructions without questioning them. Well, keeping that in mind, I think I more or less have an idea of where to start with your training…"
The bronze-skinned man cracked his knuckles and went on:
"Your goal will be to survive, but my goal will be to make you feel. Take a seat—this is a good spot."
Rey obeyed.
"Cross your legs, keep your spine straight, close your eyes, and breathe deeply."
The boy followed his instructions to the letter.
"Sitting in silence is the best time to meditate. Meditation is the first step toward becoming aware of your thoughts. Once you're aware of your thoughts, you can understand your feelings. Once you understand your feelings, you can control your mind. With control over your mind, you can control your body—and with control over your body, your present, your past, and your future."
The master's words made sense, but Rey still didn't see the point. Heroclades continued:
"Let's start with basic questions. Who are you?"
"An assassin," Rey answered.
"What do you want?"
"To survive."
"What do you feel?" Heroclades asked.
"Guilt."
"What can you change?"
"What's around me… or maybe… myself."
Heroclades, who hadn't actually been listening to any of his pupil's answers, noticed something strange: the boy's killing intent rose.
"Pay attention to your posture. More questions. How fast are you breathing? How hard is your heart beating? How much are your eyes moving? Where does it itch? What do you perceive about the environment? What do you perceive about yourself?"
Feeling the need to correct himself in front of his disciple, Heroclades went on:
"Put your shoulders back, lift your chin. Your body affects the way you think, just as the way you think affects your body…"
Rey tried as best he could, but he couldn't find answers to those last questions.
Heroclades lifted a log almost as thick as his hand high into the air and, after pointing it toward the sky, brought it down with all his strength. The wood gave way and shattered into a thousand pieces the instant it smashed against Rey's head.
The small body sitting on the ground in meditation, completely focused, was taken off guard by the brutal blow and collapsed.
White, seeing what had happened, bristled every hair on her body, unsheathed her claws, and hurled herself forward to attack the man who had hurt the boy she cared for so much.
Rey raised his hand and, with that single gesture, stopped his furry companion—the young female liger. Trembling, he forced himself to recover on the ground, breathing as deeply as he could. Bit by bit, he sat again with his legs crossed, back straight, and eyes closed, even as a thin line of blood ran down his face, gathering at his chin and dripping onto the ground.
Heroclades, understanding that his disciple had grasped how this training would proceed, continued:
"Killing intent can be fed and even 'educated.' After taking a hit from someone you trust, without expecting it… how strong are your emotions? Can you become aware of them and control them?"
"My emotions get very strong. I'm getting furious…"
This time, the teacher answered with a kick. Rey was sent flying and bounced several times along the ground; even so, as soon as he could, he dragged himself back into position.
Heroclades, genuinely surprised, added:
"Your body is quite resilient. I intended to break your arm. Let's continue…"
He spoke as he approached, stopping only when he was close enough.
"To train your killing intent, you need to listen to your own feelings and ignore the ones triggered by external factors. This is a good moment. Pain is your best friend, and anger your ally.
"Analyze what kind of events stir other sensations in you. Remember when you were small. Think about how you want to be. Through awareness of your emotions, you'll become the master of your instincts.
"Come on, Rey. Open your eyes and look at me."
Rey opened his eyes and looked at his master—only to receive another kick to the face that sent him crashing backward.
What followed were thirty more blows delivered by the bronze-skinned man to his disciple.
Heroclades, already beginning to lose his temper, said:
"Get up. Don't think about giving up just to free yourself from pain. In front of me, you won't be able to die without my permission—even if you want to.
"Until there's not a trace of that killing intent in your eyes, you will not pass this test. Open your eyes and look at me."
He kicked his disciple again, and by now Rey was bleeding from everywhere.
"You're probably asking yourself, 'Why do I have to go through these trials and endure so much pain instead of just doing what I think is right?' Let me tell you why."
Rey wiped the blood from his clothes as Heroclades continued.
"Being born into this family makes you a warrior.
"Being a warrior is a way of life that demands intense dedication, responsibility, precision, and focus in your early years, so you can forge unbreakable values and be capable of anything.
"Warriors are as responsible for saving lives as they are for taking them. That's why they must be the best of the best in order to survive.
"Right now, you might be motivated because you feel threatened, but discipline will take you much further than the motivation you feel at this moment.
"This combination of torture, ordeals, blows, and mistreatment is going to draw out the best in you, just like hammer strikes, fire, and changes in temperature forge a sword.
"If you want to shine in the shortest time possible, your life has to be at risk so that you feel the need to save yourself. Open your eyes…"
"Maybe I deserve this. Doing something bad requires some kind of punishment," the boy told himself. "My hands are tainted."
Rey's body trembled, and he could barely stand. Yet he understood what his master was saying. Every time he was on the verge of losing his life, his body adapted to create the opposite outcome.
He opened one eye and looked at the bronze-skinned man—who answered with yet another vicious kick.
"You're improving," Heroclades said. "But it's still not enough! Why?
"Rey, unlike the other skills you need to be a warrior, control over your killing intent—and control over your fighting spirit—are fundamental.
"You can't fight or look for solutions if you're not in control of the processes going on in your head. You need to condition your brain to think about what you're doing. What's so hard about that?"
For a moment, he realized they were both being overly dramatic. Trying to regain his composure, he went on:
"A teacher who respects himself shouldn't blame his students… Maybe I'm the one who hasn't understood yet. Hmmm."
He crouched down and brought his face close to his disciple's, like someone trying to see from another person's point of view.
"I see. That was my mistake. It took me a while to notice.
"Rey, you have a grudge buried so deep inside you… We're not making progress because maybe you're blaming yourself for something and taking my blows as punishment.
"You wouldn't have those eyes if you hadn't killed, am I wrong?
"Controlling your killing instincts is, in part, stopping yourself from feeling like a killer. What better clue could you ask for than that? Open your eyes and look at me…"
Rey remembered the fateful night when he extinguished a beating heart, the moment he killed a flying beast, and when he devoured the hatchlings in a nest. He opened his eyes with the same sharpness they'd had at the start of training—and received another brutal strike from his master.
The pain and swelling were so intense that he could hardly sit back up. Rey only managed to roll onto his back, just to be able to breathe with a little more ease.
With a heavy, tired tone, Heroclades said, "Come on. If you can roll onto your back, you can sit up. Sit, or I'll give you a reason not to be able to for the rest of the day."
Rey frowned, looked up at the sky, and nodded at his teacher's threat.
"What else can he do to me?" he wondered, then answered himself with another question: "Break my feet? He's capable of that. That much I know," he thought as he forced his aching torso upright.
"No matter how hard I try, I still don't know how I'm supposed to control my killing intent. It's not something I do because I want to. If I'm not aware of it, how can I take control? Of course, Heroclades has a point: ever since I killed White's father, I feel like an assassin. A weapon ready to hurt anyone who crosses my edge…"
Then he realized something.
"An assassin, not a warrior. Both are weapons. But why hurt if I can avoid it—or even protect? I've already noticed this. The problem is, up until now, to survive in the world of animals, I had to rely on that overflowing bloodlust. They don't talk or reason… they threaten… they act according to what they are. And I… I act like them."
The boy straightened his back as much as he could and drew in a soft, steady breath. In a way, he had found his answer.
Heroclades, now sounding like someone who no longer expected much, spoke in a disappointed voice:
"A handy excuse for not feeling bad about killing is to think about how many others benefit from you getting the chance to go on living thanks to them. Let's be honest—what's the point of all these feelings if, either way, your opponent was irredeemably doomed to fail?
"And if you die now, you'll make the sacrifice your friend's father made go to waste. Rey, you need to give priority to the living—to your own feelings—before the dead.
"This is the last chance I'll give you… Open your eyes."
The boy opened his eyes. Heroclades raised his hand into the air, closed his fist, then lifted his thumb with a smile.
"You did it. You've gained control over your killing instinct. As you can understand, no one would trust someone whose body constantly leaks uncontrolled killing intent like a wild animal. Why? Because even if that person feels guilty about having killed—or about maybe having to kill again—no one can reason with them and bring a conflict to a less violent conclusion.
"Taking responsibility for your actions is the best solution—and that is the path of a warrior. But the best option of all is not to start something you could have avoided in the first place."
"How did you know?" Rey asked, confused. He was referring to how his teacher knew that the "guardian of Paradise" he had faced was the father of the little cub who followed him everywhere.
"I'm no elf," Heroclades replied, "but my ability to interpret energy is sharp enough to recognize that, inside you, there is part of the body, flesh, and blood of the beast your father once spared. The same beast that shares a bond with the little one at your side.
"You're half vampire, my disciple. If you inherited any of your mother's abilities, there might be a chance you could bring him back to life, just as you've made him part of yourself…"
Rey, stunned to learn something he didn't know about vampires, nodded. Even though he wanted to know how to perform that kind of feat, he held himself back from asking.
"Heroclades isn't a vampire. So he can't teach me something that belongs only to that bloodline," he thought.
On the other hand, Energy Interpretation was a term tied to the second main foundation of a warrior: fighting spirit and willpower. Rey had read about both and was more interested in learning them for now, but reading was nothing like real experience, and he hadn't yet had the chance to control them.
Gently stroking worried White's head, Rey spoke aloud.
"I promised her father I'd take responsibility for my actions, and it would be the right thing to bring him back if I can. But…"
He turned his face toward his master.
"For now, it's better if I stick to the basics of energy. How can I control my fighting spirit?"
Heroclades took a step back and shook his head.
"For today, your training is over. Controlling fighting spirit isn't as simple as controlling killing instinct."
"And when does the training end?" Rey asked, hands trembling, blood still dripping from his mouth.
"Precisely when you can control your fighting spirit and defeat me in combat."
"Combat? Is that fair?" he asked, letting a breath escape between his teeth.
"More than a combat, it's a trial in which you'll face reality and what your brain perceives. The first step in controlling fighting spirit is to ignite the willpower that lives inside you."
"I feel like my body has recovered enough. Let me try while I'm still conscious," he said aloud, then continued to think:
"According to the fighting books I read, overcoming pain with willpower is the first step. Pain, precious friend of this body. But I'm still one step ahead; unlike the previous trial, this time I have an idea of what to do. The key is fragmentation. Breaking a big task into small parts is the only way to keep going for an indefinite time until I find the answer."
"The day hasn't even properly started yet," Heroclades said. "I was planning to enjoy the house and take a morning walk, but I suppose it won't take too long to indulge your demands. When you fall unconscious, we'll end today's training."
The boy nodded. The bronze-skinned man pulled out his book and began flipping through a few pages.
"What are we doing now? Where are you? What are limits? What is sensation? What is perception? In what ways can we change our perception of reality? Could your mind change its structure when it experiences new things? These are the questions that will help you…"
"Why do you ask so many questions?" Rey asked, intrigued.
"Don't pay too much attention to the questions themselves; they're just a teaching system I found effective both in my study of sorcery and in my path as a philosopher."
Setting his disciple's curiosity aside, Heroclades kept going once he'd found the perfect spell. After reciting it letter by letter, he asked,
"Are you ready?"
Before Rey could even answer, he felt his body drenched by some liquid falling from the air; immediately after, his eyes flew open as wide as they could. His throat tore itself raw as he screamed with everything he had, rolling on the ground from side to side while the little feline watched him, not understanding what was happening.
"This is fire, my skin is burning! But I can't see it, it doesn't burn me… it's unbearable pain! Think, Rey, think!" he told himself. "Fire. It's fire. I'm wrapped in flames, I'm burning… No. Fragment it. This is pain. I have to endure it, I want to endure it, I can endure it. Just a little longer," he repeated to himself over and over between tremors and spasms.
"The mind can change," Heroclades said, pacing as he spoke. "When we process something that makes sense or that needs to be there, we can make it real. Just as we can remove it or ignore it so we can keep going on our way.
"Your reality is not the only reality, but as rational beings, we make the mistake of thinking it is. Even so, the mind feeds on the willpower inside you. To be efficient in terms of willpower, don't try to face the impossible before you've strengthened your confidence by accepting small achievements.
"You still haven't lost consciousness. That's a small achievement…"
He started to ramble a bit and continued:
"Oh, willpower is a flame that lives inside the eyes. Ignoring the contradictory case of your father, that flame is supposed to burn bright. Think of those small achievements as branches. Small achievements, my disciple, small branches that will feed the flame that gives you the energy to move your fighting spirit."
Rey, eyes wide and shaking, watched the skin, flesh, and nails of his hands peel away. His meat shrank and twisted until it too fell off, leaving the bones exposed, held together only by little scraps of white tissue that also looked ready to give out. He felt the pain of being burned alive, yet for some reason the bones of his hands did not fall apart, and his eyes could still see.
Looking from side to side, he caught his own reflection in White's worried eyes.
"How is it possible she sees me as normal?" he wondered.
Stopping his writhing and clenching his fists as hard as he could, Rey also realized his furry companion was staring at him like someone who didn't understand what was going on.
"I can do this. This is nothing. This won't stop me… This is something my mind is creating," he thought, squeezing his eyes shut. "I read in a book that flesh has no nerve endings… my bones have no reason to feel this unbearable pain. But even though the letters in a book show plenty of knowledge, they're not experience. This is experience."
"What you're feeling now is based mostly on your perception," Heroclades said, walking back and forth. "Of course, if you didn't know what fire was, you probably wouldn't understand what's happening to you right now.
"Rey, your mind is not relying on what's actually happening, it's anchored to what you choose to perceive. You're letting your thoughts choose what specific information to receive and what to leave out.
"More questions for you. What is sensation?"
Rey squeezed his fists even harder, clenched his teeth as much as he could, and stopped moving. He still struggled to control his breathing, but he tried to ignore the pain with every fiber of his being.
"If I can still see, if I can still touch, if I can still feel, then this sensation isn't real," he told himself.
"No, you still don't get it. Enduring isn't enough," Heroclades said, and with a snap of his fingers he intensified the sensation the boy was feeling. "Pay attention to my words. Willpower, your mind, what you think you feel, what you actually feel.
"Sensation is nothing more than a process in which we receive stimulation from our surroundings. And if I told you the liquid I threw on you is cold—very cold, cold enough to freeze the trunk of a tree… what is perception?"
Rey opened his eyes again, but this time he saw his hands differently. They were frozen, ready to shatter. Believing he was freezing fit better than believing he was burning. But between heat and cold, a paradoxical contradiction took shape in his mind. Now he felt so much heat that he saw himself freezing, or so much cold that he felt like he was burning at the same time.
"Just a bit more… just a little more. I have to stay conscious, I know I can. This is my only chance; I can't waste it."
"Perception is when your mind tries to understand the stimulation you're receiving and wants to give it meaning so it can make sense of it," Heroclades continued. "The last point is selective attention. With it, you can use your willpower to trick your mind and see what you want to see, not necessarily what's there to be seen.
"Rey, the pain isn't real. Stand up, open your eyes, and act normal. A fight is nothing more than receiving information from around you and then defining it so you can act accordingly."
Rey took a deep breath, pushed himself up from the ground, and acted as if nothing hurt.
The master raised his fist in the air and put his thumb up.
"You've passed this test, my disciple. We can move on to the next level. Don't take it the wrong way, but I really do want to knock you unconscious—only then will I be sure I truly did my best as your master.
"Do you see that tree?"
As soon as Rey nodded, Heroclades continued,
"We'll fight until you fall unconscious or touch the trunk. It's worth stating clearly that the moment you touch that trunk, you pass my training."
The master took up his fighting stance and waited for Rey to do the same.
With a look, Rey signaled to his little companion that she could move away, then reevaluated the situation in front of his master.
"The grass around his feet is acting weird. It's not moving with the wind like the rest," he noticed.
On the ground around Heroclades, nothing shifted.
"He's waiting for me to make the first move. Considering Hero is at least 'God' rank, the barrier around him is indestructible. He plans to fight using his strongest moves, but he's also giving me a huge advantage by letting me win just by touching the tree… Hmmm. I remember he said that as long as someone is within his perimeter or he's the one who moves, he can't use the barrier. Best thing is to pretend I don't know anything and attack to buy time…"
Rey crouched, spread his hands like claws, and jumped with all his strength straight at his master, aiming to crash into the barrier Heroclades had created to protect himself.
Heroclades, bringing a hand to his face, said,
"I always wondered whether you'd come for me first or for the tree. Now it's clear you'll try to distract me or incapacitate me before heading toward your exit," he added, looking into his disciple's eyes, who was being held back by the barrier.
Realizing something, he decided to take advantage of the moment for a quick lesson.
"Your movements make it obvious that you've adopted the style beasts use to fight, just like you had adopted their killing intent. You move as if you had claws, even though you don't—and you still don't know how to transform them completely. But that's not the problem. The problem is that your body is badly programmed. It's not a good idea to defend every time you're attacked, or to attack every time your enemy defends…"
As soon as Rey landed, he swung another claw-like strike at the barrier and shredded his own nails, but now that he could control his perception of pain, he acted as if nothing had happened.
"He's a sorcerer, so the only way to beat him is to force him to use his weak point. If I can make him move from his spot, he won't be able to keep using his barrier. He'll have to block my blows without knowing I have training in martial arts. That's my chance. Even a single second in which I make him move will be enough for me to win and touch the tree," he thought.
Seeing how focused his disciple was, Heroclades went on:
"You repeated those moves countless times last night, didn't you?" Rey looked at him and kept attacking. "Let me tell you something: you can't allow any enemy to have control over your movements. Your opponents can behave in all kinds of ways, and the question is: how are you going to respond?"
The master dropped the barrier.
Rey stopped on a dime and darted sideways, trying to get closer to the tree while never taking his eyes off the bronze-skinned man.
Heroclades, meanwhile, opened the book to a specific page and added:
"See? Now that I'm the one attacking, your first instinct is to defend. Being 'programmed' like that isn't good—it makes you predictable. Sometimes the best defense is attack, and the best attack is defense.
"We can agree that what they do is problematic and inconvenient, but in the future make sure you don't give your enemy the exact reaction they want from you. If you let yourself be controlled by emotions, you're basically putting yourself in their hands…"
From the book rose a whole symbol made of shapes, letters, and lines.
"Easy to talk when you're the one with power, isn't it?" Rey thought as he backed away, watching his master prepare to attack with a spell. "It didn't seem so complicated when I read it in a book, but predicting a sorcerer's moves is harder than I expected. If I had to describe it, it's like walking through the darkness of the Forest That Is Always Changing without being able to see. It takes time to get used to knowing where you're going."
The conjuration circle rose into the air. The wind shifted direction, and the green grass rippled.
"I've got to get out of my head. I can't let myself be distracted in the middle of a fight. I already have the plan—all I need is the opportunity… My body hurts, my vision blurs, and yet I feel better than usual. Where there's a will, there's a way…"
With resolve, Rey focused his eyes as much as he could, studying the exact patterns and symbols taking shape in the air.
"Good sorcerers always have to use the chant they consider most fair and necessary for the situation, so they don't die if they fail the conditions. The conjuration formed in the air has solid properties and will be fired… It could be a 'Stone Bullet.' That's enough to pierce me clean through. Perfect. I'll walk in the dark…"
With that in mind, the boy widened the distance, moving in a zigzag and striking his own arms to keep his body awake and responsive.
At his disciple's new behavior, Heroclades tilted his head with a suspicious frown. He was no longer so sure about the effectiveness of his attack. Because the spell was solid, his disciple could use it to his advantage and let it launch him straight into the tree that represented the end of the training.
Forming a second conjuration that would strike from above, the master snapped the book shut and broke into a run with a grin on his face.
Rey didn't need to dodge the chunks of stone, but he was forced to move forward by the impact of a powerful bolt of lightning behind him.
"Hmmm, you're adapting, Hero. This is where you start to get wary. As a sorcerer, I know you're careful. You make sure to use the simplest, most necessary option to win. You're going to ramp up the difficulty of the training with a more complex chant.
"Ah, but if I tell myself it could be much harder, that doesn't change what's happening. If I tell myself I can handle it, maybe I can make a difference. I have to give it everything I've got, even at a disadvantage. This isn't a problem, it's an opportunity. It's not a problem, it's a challenge… running in the dark."
Heroclades, with his hand outstretched, tried to grab one of his disciple's limbs, but couldn't. He tried several more times. Each attempt was more aggressive and violent than the last.
"I can hardly believe it. So you can predict the element you're going to be attacked with?" he said.
The boy answered with a proud smile.
"One of the pieces of advice I was going to give you was to be careful with first impressions. But I don't think that applies to you. Your movements look more refined and solid, you're controlling your killing intent perfectly, and you have an unbreakable fighting spirit… Something tells me you still haven't shown me your best!" Heroclades shouted with a smile on his face.
He planted a solid step forward and, from inside his clothes, pulled out a handful of papers, which he tossed to either side. From the illustrated sheets that burst into a thousand scraps, five black wolves appeared and lunged at the boy. Since they weren't much different in size from each other, and Rey already knew how to deal with beasts, he didn't have much trouble disabling the five animals while still managing to keep escaping from his master.
Heroclades, unable to hold back his urge to corrupt, said:
"Hmmm. While everyone else was asleep, you made productive decisions. You learned to accept yourself. You searched, and you achieved. You came to understand stress. You created good habits. You followed an ambition that had meaning. But don't you think that very ambition is what makes you feel miserable?"
Rey had no time to answer; he could only think and keep running from his master without taking his eyes off him. Knowledge was his ambition. He already knew he might not be the smartest in the pack, but he could definitely be the most dedicated.
After analyzing his disciple's expressions, Heroclades arrived at his own answer and continued:
"Rey. You're mistaken. Hard work isn't everything, and talent isn't either. And if I'm right, if you change the way you see the world, tell me… what's left?"
"Power," Rey replied, eyes wide, moving from side to side without blinking.
Heroclades flashed a wicked smile.
"Exactly. If there exists absolute strength, unmatched speed, or unlimited knowledge, there's no room left for technique. Techniques were created to compensate for weaknesses.
"Now, what good is all that power, all that strength, speed, or knowledge, if you can't control it and don't know how to use it? A lack of control over what you already have becomes a weakness in its own right.
"Let's use an example: out of thousands of arts, there is one called 'Fighting Spirit,' a method to compensate for our weaknesses. Our bodies are vulnerable; we're prone to giving up when faced with hardship; our mind prefers the most comfortable place. But if we convert willpower into energy, we surpass the limits of the body and trick the mind. We can tap into the magic power inside us and explosively increase our physical limits.
"Another example is body reinforcement: even after destroying your fingers, you're still attacking with the same force. If you manage to wrap every part of your body with the magic power created by willpower, it will harden like steel and ignore pain.
"Regardless of having bathed in the fountain of Arcadia, the invulnerability of your father's body lies in his ability to harden it with this method. You can learn from other arts, but there are almost infinite of them—and tell me, can you truly be good at one thing if you learn a little of everything and never perfect anything?"
He raised a hand as if to stop his own thought.
"Don't get me wrong, and don't think you have to pour all your efforts into perfecting one particular thing in order to raise your level in combat. The first thing you need is control—control over your power, over what you can do, and what you can't.
"The path to becoming the best warrior is to be adaptable. Never depend on your strongest power, and always learn from your enemy without underestimating them.
"Listen to me: solving a complicated situation with simple methods is much more ingenious than solving it with complicated methods, like you're doing now."
Out of nowhere, when the boy was just a hand's breadth from touching the tree, he was caught by a kick from his master. Heroclades wasn't very skilled in hand-to-hand combat, but he made good use of his strength and size. Rey was sent flying to the other side of the field, and only with his hands and feet was he able to slow himself down.
Heroclades burst into laughter, looking up at the sky.
"Just like me, your body doesn't help you much. It doesn't match the talent or ambitions of its user. After enduring so much pain and standing at the edge of death, I can say for certain that you have immense willpower.
"As long as you don't have strength, speed, or knowledge, control, capacity, and load will be the three alternative factors that can help you become more powerful.
"You can have all the energy in the world, but if you don't know how to control it, you're nothing. Perfecting the art of killing and living is no easy task…"
Running a hand over his forehead, feeling the human skin at his nape and forearms, he continued:
"You've actually made me sweat in this fight. But in the state you're in, I doubt you'll make it all the way to the end."
Rey straightened himself, lifted his chin, and brushed the dust from his body.
"Acting arrogant just because you managed to get a little closer to the tree?"
Heroclades slipped back into his fighting stance and, after skimming a few pages of the book, summoned a humanoid creature into the field, between himself and his disciple.
"That's one of the many creatures in this book. It's your size, and I'd say its strength is more or less comparable to yours. Now, why don't you do your part and try to survive?"
The white-eyed boy took a step back when he saw the strange being. It had four limbs, but no head. It didn't move normally either—its arms trembled and its legs nearly gave out beneath it.
"A creature with its own consciousness that doesn't need to be controlled by the sorcerer. Now Heroclades has time to chant another spell, as well as his barrier. On top of that, even if this thing can reason, it's not a good idea to charge directly at something I don't understand. The moment is close…" Rey told himself as he tightened his clawlike hands.
"Oh, you're hesitating. Never hesitate or stop believing in the strength of your will. Once you've gone past your limits, it's your will that stops your soul, body, and blood from giving up. That could be a weak point. If you abandon it, it might end up abandoning you.
"On the other hand, if you're a hunter, you'd be grateful for anything you're chasing to run and try to escape you. It makes the blood boil. It makes you want it even more. The moment you run, you become prey."
The master's words rang true, and Rey was forced to draw from the only garment still covering him the unicorn horn he'd jealously guarded as a weapon.
Heroclades arched his brows as if things had suddenly become very serious.
"Looks like you haven't learned your first lesson. The law of advantage lives in the mind of those with killing intent. A sharp weapon in a fistfight… not exactly honorable, is it?
"Your actions have consequences, and pulling out something like that gives me the option to answer with an attack of equal or greater lethality—one that could kill you. Don't regret it. From the moment you crossed that line, I hope you were ready to put your life on the line."
Rey tossed the horn up with his right hand.
"Am I not honorable?" he wondered as he sprinted forward as fast as he could, slipping through the creature's attacks with a fine sequence of evasive movements. "I haven't had time to stop and think about that… this might be my last chance. But if my life were taken, what would be left?"
He attacked, counterattacked, and climbed over the headless creature in a blur of motion.
"I don't know the answer. That's why, if I have to sacrifice my honor and fight against the light of a god to find the path of knowledge, I can't hesitate to become a torch of flesh and blood."
At the exact moment Heroclades began his incantation, Rey kicked the falling horn.
"It's done. There goes my honor along with that horn. There's no turning back… Now I feel like something is dying in this field… A very empty victory. No, I don't know why, but I refuse to regret it. I wasn't made to let myself be beaten.
"Even if I have to drag my honor through the dirt, I'll haul it on my back and carry it to the end."
Heroclades had his barrier down and his eyes on the book. Just as he was about to complete the spell, he felt his disciple's killing intent vanish, which gave him a bad feeling and the sense that he'd kept his guard down for too long. Something was coming, and he had to dodge it. The air doesn't lie when it sounds the way it does when something approaches at high speed.
Sure enough, as soon as the bronze-skinned man refocused on his disciple, he was forced to tilt his head to the side.
Rey kept running with everything he had, splitting grass and soil beneath his feet. Heroclades snapped the book shut and, moving quickly, grabbed his disciple by the neck with his free arm, stopping him from getting any closer to the tree.
"What a face," Heroclades thought as he held the boy there. "The face of someone who's got the advantage. If he has the advantage, it means I'm about to lose. Honestly, it's incredible you made it this far…"
Pulling a bitter little grin, Heroclades waited a beat and said aloud,
"You won. You've won without honor, but a victory is still a victory."
Rey's body dissolved into the air.
"I underestimated you from the start. You've exceeded all my expectations. You must be at an advanced rank in the arts of hand-to-hand combat to beat my spell like that.
"Congratulations on managing to control 'Aura.' Being able to erase your presence and create copies of yourself is something you couldn't achieve on your own—maybe Silvia had something to do with it.
"On the other hand, if you use your vampire lineage, you'd have the affinity to hide in the darkness without having to learn Aura at all. Well, there are different ways to achieve the same thing. It's not like I've got anything left to teach you…"
Stepping out from behind the tree, Rey walked toward him calmly.
"You could teach me sorcery…" he said.
Heroclades's eyes lit up, but as if holding his joy back, he rubbed a hand over his head.
"Hmmm. Sorcery is a very long process, hard to learn, difficult to master, and almost impossible to even begin. It's an incomplete art, filled with negative consequences for its user. One day wouldn't be enough to explain all the things that can happen if you fail—let alone review all the terms you'd need just to awaken your first vortex of energy.
"In terms of development, sorcery is like an unborn child, even though it's been studied for so long. Revealing new secrets without consequences has become impossible, and all the developers of the art, if they don't end up dead, end up cursed."
Then, changing the sad tone of his words, he went on,
"Besides, if I teach you what I know, I'd be the one who ends up knowing nothing. You have to understand that, as the oldest in the group, I have to preserve my value… But I can show you the techniques and spells from my book that I can't use myself, so you can add them to yours. As long as no one else finds out, of course."
Seeing how much attention those white eyes were giving him, Hero let himself get carried away a little.
"For now, if you want to get stronger, use the light and go meet the Elder of the Forest or the Elder of the Lake. In the eternal night, they could guide you toward more opportunities. Put what you already know to work, and pay even closer attention to what you don't—that will be your second assignment."
"Where can I find them?" Rey asked.
"Just like the first time I set foot in Heaven, today I managed to feel, in the Forest That Is Always Changing, the presence of countless souls," Heroclades said. "Right here, in this same place, I can sense a numberless crowd of presences that we can't see—and they can't see us. Among those presences are the two elders.
"Something tells me that, in the same space, there are two different planes, and the way to reach the other one is inside the forest…"
Rey fell silent. He didn't quite believe his master's words.
"That in the forest there's an entrance to another place that's this same place, but in another plane? I spent an entire night combing that place from top to bottom and found nothing but guardians of Paradise and flying creatures. If I couldn't even find the exit, how am I supposed to find another entrance?
"Then again, Heroclades has no reason to be wrong. Maybe the forest is much bigger than I thought."