The atmosphere in the village shifted subtly after the sparring matches. As Raze moved through the stone pathways, he noticed the glances cast his way—some curious, others cautious, and a few openly hostile. Word of his victories had spread quickly, and he could feel the weight of it pressing on him, the silent recognition that he was no ordinary recruit.
This was exactly what he'd wanted. But with recognition came scrutiny, and he could sense the change in the way others regarded him.
His next training session began at dawn, a brutal endurance exercise that Jala called The Iron Hold. It was designed to test the limits of each initiate's Vein discipline, pushing them to channel their Vein power for sustained periods without succumbing to exhaustion. For those with the Iron Vein, it was a grueling test of will, forcing them to hold their strength and stamina without breaking under the strain.
"Strength is worthless if it can't be maintained," Jala had told him, her voice hard and unyielding. "The Iron Vein is not a weapon to be unleashed recklessly. It's a tool of control."
Raze focused, feeling the Iron Vein surge within him, pulsing like molten steel through his veins. His limbs felt heavier, denser, but he embraced the weight, letting it ground him. Around him, other initiates strained under the exercise, their faces contorted with effort as they struggled to keep up.
One of them, a lanky boy with a Stone Vein mark, caught Raze's eye and sneered. He was barely able to hold his stance, his body trembling as he channeled his Vein power, yet he looked at Raze with open disdain.
"Think you're special, Drakan?" the boy spat, his voice a low growl. "We've seen Iron Veins before. Nothing impressive."
Raze met his gaze, unblinking. He recognized this type—someone clinging to bravado, trying to mask his own weakness with arrogance. But Raze didn't need to prove himself with words.
He turned away, ignoring the boy's taunts, his focus entirely on maintaining his stance. Around him, the Iron Vein pulsed steadily, a reminder of his discipline and control. He felt a fierce satisfaction in his ability to hold his ground while others struggled, even those who claimed to be his equals.
When the exercise finally ended, Raze was among the few still standing, his breathing steady, his limbs heavy but unbroken. Jala's gaze lingered on him for a moment, a flicker of approval in her eyes before she turned to address the group.
"Remember this feeling," she said, her tone sharp. "This exhaustion, this pain. It's the foundation of your strength. Without it, you're nothing."
The other initiates dispersed, some casting dark looks at Raze as they left the training grounds. The boy who had taunted him earlier gave him one last scowl before slinking off, his pride clearly wounded.
Raze remained where he was, catching his breath, when he heard footsteps approaching from behind. He turned to see Mira, the wiry girl with the Storm Vein mark whom he had defeated in the sparring match. She gave him a scrutinizing look, her arms crossed.
"You're making enemies fast, Drakan," she said, a hint of amusement in her tone. "You know, they don't take kindly to outsiders who think they can come in and show them up."
Raze met her gaze, unfazed. "I didn't come here to make friends. I came here to learn."
"Is that so?" Mira's eyes gleamed with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. "And what exactly are you hoping to learn, Iron Vein? Power? Or just control?"
"Both," he replied without hesitation. "And I'll take whatever else this place can teach me."
Mira studied him for a moment, as if weighing his words. "You're ambitious," she said finally, her voice low. "That can get you far in a place like this… or it can get you killed."
"Are you warning me?" he asked, a faint edge to his voice.
She shrugged. "Consider it advice. You're good, Drakan. But ambition attracts attention. And some here won't let you rise without a fight."
Raze gave her a cold smile. "Then let them come. I'll be ready."
She watched him, her expression unreadable, before she nodded and turned to leave. "Suit yourself. Just don't say I didn't warn you."
As she walked away, Raze felt a spark of satisfaction. He didn't need allies, but he understood the value of keeping his enemies in sight. Mira's words were as much a reminder as they were a warning: his presence here was a disruption, a threat to the existing order, and it wouldn't go unchallenged.
And that was exactly what he wanted.
The next day, Raze was summoned to the training grounds again, but this time, it wasn't for endurance exercises. Jala waited with her staff, her eyes fixed on him with a gleam of challenge.
"We're moving on to the next phase," she announced, her voice echoing through the empty courtyard. "You've proven you can withstand the Iron Vein's power, but now you must learn how to use it offensively. We call it the Iron Crush—a technique designed to channel the full force of the Vein into a single, concentrated strike."
Raze's interest piqued. This was what he'd been waiting for: a way to weaponize his power, to turn it into a tool of destruction.
Jala demonstrated, her Vein mark glowing as she raised her staff and struck a boulder nearby. The impact was immediate—a deafening crack as the stone split down the middle, shards scattering across the ground.
"Your turn," she said, stepping aside. "Focus your energy, let it gather in your hand, and release it in a single motion. But be warned—if you lose control, the Vein will rebound, and the damage will be on you."
Raze stepped forward, feeling the Iron Vein surge in response to the challenge. He placed his hand on a nearby stone, closing his eyes, focusing. He could feel the energy building, a pressure that swelled within him, straining against his control.
He gathered it, compressing it, letting it coil like a spring in his arm, and then released it in a swift, explosive strike.
The force shattered the stone, fragments flying in every direction. A thrill shot through him—a sense of raw, unrestrained power coursing through his veins. This was the strength he had craved, the strength he had been denied.
Jala's eyes narrowed, watching him with a mix of approval and wariness. "Impressive," she admitted. "But remember, the Iron Vein is relentless. Use it wisely, or it will consume you."
Raze nodded, though he barely heard her. His mind was racing with possibilities, each one feeding his ambition, his hunger for more. This was only the beginning, but he could already see the path before him, the power that lay waiting, just within his reach.
He would rise through the ranks of the Veinborn, mastering each technique, surpassing every challenge. And when the time came, he would take his place above them all.
For now, he would play their game. But soon enough, the game would be his to control.