Towan was behind the dojo, alone under the waterfall.
The crashing water slamd down over him, but he didn’t flinch. Not like before. Back when Leon first taught him, he could barely stay upright for five seconds without slipping like a wet fish. Now?
Now he moved with
the water.
Each kick cut upward through the current, precise and grounded. He was no longer just practicing balance — he was refining power. Sharpening the force behind every strike without sacrificing control.
Still… the waterfall didn’t go easy.
Neither did he.
That’s when he noticed movent near the edge of the clearing.
He turned his head mid-kick and saw them—
Elliot and Eryndar, stepping out from the path.
Elliot t his eyes.
The look he gave him was… not encouraging.
Sowhere between "we’re screwed” and "run while you still can."
Oh no.
Don’t tell he’s gonna beat us up, Towan thought.
If Eryndar did
decide to go full death-mode…
Who was gonna stop him?
Certainly not them.
Towan jogged up from the waterfall, drying his face with the sleeve of his soaked shirt.
“Is sothing wrong, sir?” he asked, cautious but composed.
Eryndar didn’t move.
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His eyes, sharp and unreadable, stayed fixed on Towan like he was staring through him.
“Yes,” he said flatly.
“I need to know if you’re worth my friend’s sacrifice.”
The words echoed, sharp and sudden—cutting through the stillness like a blade.
Towan blinked, caught off guard.
“I’m… sorry?” he asked, unsure he’d heard right.
Then—
A punch.
Fast. Heavy. No warning.
“(Oh shi-)”
Towan’s instincts scread—he ducked low, just in ti, the blow slicing the air above his head.
“(What the hell? Did he just try to-)”
But there was no ti to think.
His body moved on its own.
He twisted into a counter-kick, snapping his leg up high toward where Eryndar had been a heartbeat ago.
Empty air.
Towan’s foot landed with a thud—and no impact.
Where did—?
“Not bad…” ca the voice from behind them.
Towan spun, heart pounding.
Towan spun around. Eryndar was already behind them both, hands calmly behind his back like he hadn't just tried to deck a teenager.
“(How did he even get there that fast?! I didn’t even see him move)"
He didn’t show it, but adrenaline flooded Towan’s chest. Not fear. Not exactly.
“Your brother reacted well too,” he added, glancing at Elliot.
Towan stared at Elliot, wide-eyed.
“Wait—he tried to hit you too?”
Elliot crossed his arms, clearly annoyed.
“Yeah. I did not
expect it.”
He rubbed his jaw.
“Definitely wasn't a warm-up slap.”
(Hmm… impressive, considering they’ve only trained for two months…)
(Their Essentia capacity is larger than most seasoned fighters. Reaction ti’s sharp. Instincts are clean.)
(But instincts can be trained. What I need to know is… what drives them to fight?)
Eryndar straightened, giving them both one of those unreadable, ntor-tier stares. The kind that makes you feel like you just failed a test you didn’t know you were taking.
“Let’s begin.”
Towan blinked.
“Begin what, exactly?”
Eryndar pointed to a small clearing surrounded by smooth stones. The wind had swept it clean.
“Stand there. Both of you.”
They exchanged a look, then obeyed.
Eryndar stepped into the center, slowly drawing a line in the dirt with his foot.
“This is the line. You cross it, I knock you down. You try to push past it… and maybe, just maybe, I take you seriously.”
Towan raised an eyebrow.
“So we just… push you?”
“You try,” Eryndar replied. “But this isn’t about strength.”
He stepped onto the line, planted his feet, and exhaled. The air around him stilled. Even the trees seed to hesitate.
“You’ll find I’m very hard to move.”
Eryndar stood like a mountain — unmoving, arms behind his back, standing on the line he’d drawn in the earth. Not in a stance. Not even guarded. Just… there.
“Move ,” he said simply. “Any way you like.”
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