Peak of the Fire Mountain, some time after Byron's parting with Rand
"Byron, you're late," said a young man of average build, who no one would give more than twenty years old. But it wasn't his appearance that caught the eye, although it was quite remarkable, but his massive curly horns.
"Please forgive me, sect master, I lost track of time," the elder muttered, bowing slightly, although he knew perfectly well that he had arrived ten minutes early.
But as always, the sect master didn't dwell on it and went straight to the point.
"You surprised me, taking a new disciple after the humiliation and disgrace brought upon you by the previous one. You said you'd never take another disciple again. And this time, you even insisted on taking part in trials for the novices, then broke the rules by taking one young man directly during the trials."
"Many years have passed since then, sect master, I've almost forgotten about it. And my time is running out; I need to pass on my legacy to someone, especially since my daughter is following a different path."
"Very well, let him remain your disciple. Help him become a mighty warrior worthy of his talent, gift, and our teachings," ordered the sect master. But then something didn't sit right with him, and he asked a rather unexpected question for his interlocutor, staring intently at the elder's aura. "You're not planning anything wrong, are you, Byron Gerano?"
"No, sect master, nothing that could harm the sect," Byron answered slightly tensely.
"I certainly hope so because I have big plans for this group of novices this year, and I don't want anything to go wrong with one of the potentially best among them. Am I clear?"
"Yes, sect master, crystal clear," the elder practically whispered, bowing even lower.
Present, Rand's home.
Struggling to pull himself out of his memories, Rand returned to cultivation before anything could get out of his control. He lost some energy due to the hitch, but these losses were insignificant.
For the next few hours, Rand remained in a meditative state to stabilize and strengthen his achievements. And as all this unfolded, the day turned into evening, and evening turned into morning.
And when Rand paused and opened his eyes, he saw the rising sun of a new day. Standing up, he began to explore the changes in his body.
"My body has undoubtedly become much stronger. If before I could barely lift fifty kilograms above my head, now five, no, six hundred won't be a problem. But it's not surprising; the Mythical Blood cultivation method in the early stages specializes in increasing the strength and endurance of the body. As well as regeneration," Rand thought, examining his almost healed wounds.
Unfortunately, he didn't have time for thorough testing of his new abilities because at that moment, a bell rang, summoning new novices to their first lesson. Rand quickly put on the magical artifact in the form of a robe, gifted to him by Byron, and immediately set off. Along the way, he encountered several other youths hurrying to the first class, but Rand didn't attempt to start a conversation with any of them. Soon, he approached the source of the ringing. It was a greenish bell of relatively small size covered with unknown signs, located at the top of an unusual building. Instead of walls, it had columns hewn from some white stone, and a dome replaced the typical roof.
Perhaps Rand was slightly delayed, or most others decided to arrive early, but he came as one of the last and immediately attracted the attention of almost all the novices, who began to whisper among themselves. Thanks to his heightened sense of hearing from cultivation, the contents of these whispers were not a secret to him.
"That's the guy the elder took. The chosen one, huh."
"Not so special, I could knock him out with one blow."
"He's dressed strangely; our robes are similar, but his looks quite a bit better."
"He smells like blood, like those disciples, just weaker. I think he's dangerous. Achil, better not…"
And as the whispers died down, a burly guy from the group stepped forward and, without introducing himself, immediately began to confront Rand.
"Why did you run away from the second trial? Senior Michael said the elder gave you a choice, and you didn't want to go. Were you afraid you'd embarrass your new master, and so he'd reject you and choose someone else?"
Rand immediately understood that this idiot had been instigated by that disgruntled disciple from the city square, Michael. He really didn't like it when Elder Byron took Rand as his disciple. At first, Rand wanted to respond in a way reminiscent of Oberin, trying to defuse the emerging conflict or avoid it altogether. But then he realized that he could, albeit reluctantly, use Byron's parting words to "become the strongest and don't disappoint me" as a reason for a rapid change in behavior. After all, he was getting tired of playing the weakling Oberin. So Rand allowed himself to act a bit more like a "normal" person.
"As my master told me, I am the most talented here, and I don't need any tests or trials to prove that I am far better than all of you."
The boy was slightly taken aback by this response, but he quickly regained his composure.
"So that's how it is? Much better than us? Well, let's see," he said before attempting to punch Rand in the face without warning. But before his fist could touch his opponent's face, someone's hand easily intercepted it.
The boy didn't lose his composure from such unexpectedness and tried to continue his attack, striking with another fist, but unfortunately, he met the same fate. Of course, the one effortlessly intercepting his fists was Rand. Just yesterday, this could have posed some difficulties since it was evident that the boy had been well trained, and his strikes were well placed. But today's Rand was in a completely different league. A regular person against a cultivator. In such a confrontation, there's usually can be only one outcome.
Seeing that his fists were held by Rand, the youth immediately tried to break free, but no matter how hard he tried, nothing worked. It seemed easier to wrest them from the clenched jaws of an enraged beast than from Rand's grip. At that moment, it dawned on the boy that he had greatly underestimated Rand, and his opponent was incredibly strong. However, following the teachings of his mentors, he didn't get scared or panic. Instead, he decided to kick and use the strength of his legs to break free from the grip, then retreat. To his dismay, Rand anticipated his simple plan, and before he could even lift his leg, Rand began clenching his hands with his opponent's fists still trapped. And, seemingly, the sturdy bones of the man immediately began to crack under the pressure.
All thoughts of kicking Rand or trying to escape immediately vanished from the boy's mind. And they were replaced by an overwhelming sensation of pain.
"Let go... please... forgive... me..." It was even difficult to speak in such a state; he had never experienced such pain, not even when his teacher punished him at home for misdeeds.
But Rand continued to press, and when the boy fell to his knees and was ready to scream from the unbearable pain, and some other novices were already preparing to come to his aid, a resonant male voice sounded.
"Enough, junior. I think this young man has learned his lesson."
Rand instantly released the boy, who was already sprawled on the floor and crying, and turned towards the direction from where the voice came, slightly bowing to the middle-aged man who appeared there.
"Good morning, senior."
Instead of responding to the greeting or examining the crying boy, the man asked Rand a question.
"Why didn't you let him go when he apologized?"
"Because otherwise, he wouldn't fully understand that it's better not to mess with me. In my village, there were bullies too, and if you don't give them an immediate response so severe that they'll never forget it, they'll constantly harass you." Oberin didn't understand this back in his time, and he was often bullied. But Rand knew this truth almost from infancy. See an enemy—break them, crush them. In reality, not killing him right away to get rid of the problem was already the epitome of restraint on Rand's part. Besides, since he needed to assert his dominance over this "elite" bunch, a couple of broken arms were a good start.
"Good answer. You'll go far if you don't die halfway."
Then the man walked past Rand, approached the boy, gave him some kind of pill, and said:
"Take the pill. And stop crying; don't disgrace the title of novice."
After that, he moved further past the other disciples, towards the center of the building, where he stopped. A small elevation formed under him on the floor. Then the man turned to the gathered boys and girls and said:
"Hello, dear young novices. My name is Gerhard. I am a deacon of the Fire Dragon sect and a cultivator at the Core Formation stage, and from this moment on, I will guide you. You can call me Teacher."