The first light of dawn cut through the mist that blanketed the village, casting pale shadows across the training grounds. Raze stood alone in the center of the open courtyard, his eyes focused on the stone slab in front of him. Jala had ordered him here at dawn, promising that his training would begin in earnest today.
The Iron Vein pulsed beneath his skin, an energy that was both intoxicating and unforgiving. The power was there, he could feel it—but without proper control, it was like a wild beast within him, unpredictable and untamed.
"Discipline," he murmured, tightening his fist until his knuckles turned white. He would make this power his own.
A shadow moved across the courtyard, and Raze looked up to see Jala approaching. She was dressed in dark training robes, her scarred face set in a grim expression, a wooden staff in her hand.
"You're here early," she noted, giving him a hard stare.
"I came to prove myself," Raze replied, meeting her gaze without flinching.
Jala's lips twitched, almost in a smile. "Then we'll see if you have the discipline to match that ambition of yours. The Iron Vein is a dangerous path, one that's claimed many before you."
She struck the staff against the stone with a sharp crack, and Raze felt the Iron Vein within him flare in response, as if awakening to a challenge. "Today, you'll learn the foundation of Iron Vein cultivation—the Anchoring Technique. It's what allows Iron Veinborn to channel their strength without being consumed by it."
Raze nodded, his focus sharpening. He had heard of the Anchoring Technique before, but he'd never been permitted to learn it. The Drakan family had guarded such secrets closely, yet here he was, ready to seize them for himself.
"Place your hands on the stone," Jala instructed, motioning to the slab before him.
He did as she said, pressing his palms against the cold, rough surface. He could feel the Iron Vein stirring, a restless energy coiling through his veins, ready to be called upon. But this time, he didn't rush to release it.
"Now listen carefully," Jala continued. "The Anchoring Technique isn't about brute force. It's about control. Imagine the power of the Iron Vein as a river flowing through you. Your body must become the dam that guides that river, channeling it with precision."
Raze closed his eyes, focusing on the energy within him. He pictured the Iron Vein as a current, wild and surging, pressing against his control. His first instinct was to let it loose, to feel the full force of it in his limbs, but he resisted.
"Slowly," Jala instructed. "Draw it up from your core, let it pool in your arms, but don't let it overwhelm you. Your will must be stronger than the power itself."
He could feel the energy rising, a relentless tide that pushed against his restraint. It was like holding back a beast, each heartbeat a struggle between control and release. Sweat trickled down his forehead, his muscles straining as he kept the power contained.
"Good," Jala murmured, watching him with a critical eye. "Now, focus that energy into your right arm. Let it gather there, like coiling steel, ready to strike."
Raze gritted his teeth, directing the energy downward, forcing it into his right arm. His veins felt as though they were on fire, the power hot and unforgiving, but he held steady, feeling the weight of the Iron Vein settle, solid and controlled.
He opened his eyes, looking down at his arm, which now glowed faintly with the silver hue of his Vein mark. The energy was there, not raging, but honed and ready, an extension of his will rather than a force beyond his control.
Jala nodded approvingly. "You're stronger than I expected. Most recruits can barely contain the Vein's pull on their first attempt."
"I'm not most recruits," Raze replied, a hint of defiance in his voice.
Jala gave him a calculating look, her expression unreadable. "No, you're not. But remember, ambition without control is a fire that will burn you from within. The Iron Vein demands obedience, whether you like it or not."
Her words were a warning, but Raze dismissed them. Control was a means to an end. He would master the Iron Vein, bend it to his will, not the other way around.
Jala stepped back, raising her staff. "Let's see if you can put that control to use."
Without warning, she lunged forward, her staff swinging toward him with lightning speed. Raze's reflexes kicked in, his right arm lifting to block the blow. The Iron Vein surged in response, reinforcing his muscles, hardening his skin like iron. The impact jolted through him, but he stood firm, absorbing the force without flinching.
Jala followed with a series of rapid strikes, each one aimed with precision. Raze moved in sync with her attacks, his movements sharpened by the Anchoring Technique. He deflected the blows, feeling the energy flow through him, controlled yet deadly.
Finally, Jala stepped back, lowering her staff. A flicker of approval crossed her face. "Impressive. You've grasped the basics. But don't get arrogant—this is only the first step."
Raze straightened, breathing hard but exhilarated. He could feel the power within him, tamed and ready, a tool he could wield as he saw fit. He'd proven himself, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he faced more than just Jala's tests.
As if reading his thoughts, Jala spoke again. "Tomorrow, you'll spar with the other initiates. They're just as hungry for power as you are, and they won't hold back. If you want to rise, you'll need to show them you're more than just a new recruit."
A thrill sparked within him. He would prove his worth, but on his own terms. The other initiates would see him as an outsider, a threat. And that was exactly how he wanted it.
He met Jala's gaze, a fierce determination blazing in his eyes. "I'll be ready."
She nodded, her expression softening for the first time. "Good. Just remember, power without purpose is empty. Know what you're fighting for, or the Vein will consume you."
But Raze knew exactly what he was fighting for. Every lesson, every step, was leading him toward a single goal. He would amass power beyond anything they could imagine, rise above every sect, every master, until the very Veins themselves bowed to his will.
For now, he would play their game. He would bide his time, learn their techniques, absorb their secrets. But in the end, he would be the one to rewrite the rules.
With a nod, he turned and walked off the training grounds, leaving Jala to watch him in silence. The path ahead was long and treacherous, but he welcomed it.
After all, it was only the beginning.