The waterfall roared like thunder as dawn's golden light danced across the cascade. Mist clung to the grass beneath Drakar's feet as he stood face-to-face with General Taronis, the Blade Monk. Though simple in his robes, Taronis exuded a presence far greater than any warrior adorned in steel. His eyes were steady, like a calm sea hiding dangerous depths.
"Do you know what it means to seek strength?" Taronis asked, his voice low and resonant.
Drakar's heart pounded. "It means to endure pain and rise above it."
Taronis raised an eyebrow, a ghost of amusement in his expression. "Bold words." He gestured toward the cliffside, where jagged stones jutted like teeth. "Before you can wield true strength, you must understand your limits. Climb the Cliff of Trials without falling, or you will break."
Drakar's gaze traced the path upward—a towering ascent slick with dew and coated in sharp edges. The height was dizzying, but fear was a distant shadow in his mind.
"I accept," Drakar said, his voice unwavering.
Taronis stepped aside. "Begin."
Drakar's hands gripped the first jagged edge. The cold bite of stone dug into his palms as he pulled himself up. His muscles, though untrained for such feats, screamed in protest. His breath came in controlled bursts as he ascended, inch by inch.This world doesn't yield to the weak, he reminded himself.
The wind picked up, howling against the cliffside as though mocking his resolve. Below, the ground promised certain death. Yet Drakar pressed on.
His thoughts wandered to Garmok, his home—a small village overshadowed by the vast, unforgiving expanse of Eryndral. To the west lay the Spirelands, where volcanic storms brewed beneath the feet of titans. To the east stretched the Obsidian Marshes, where shadows took form. His people believed strength was their only shield against the chaos that ruled these lands.
But I will not remain small, Drakar thought as he climbed higher. I will become a fire that no god or titan can extinguish.
Minutes passed. Then an hour. His fingers bled from the sharp ridges of stone. His shoulders trembled with exhaustion.
A loose rock crumbled beneath his foot, sending debris tumbling into the abyss. He clung to the wall with one hand, his body dangling over the void. His heart pounded as the cliff seemed to yawn beneath him.
"Hold," he whispered to himself, his voice steady. "Hold."
With a roar of defiance, he pulled himself back onto the ledge. The fire in his muscles was unbearable, but he pushed onward.
At last, Drakar's hand grasped the final ledge. He dragged himself over the edge and collapsed, his chest heaving as cold water sprayed his face.Taronis stood over him, arms crossed. His expression was unreadable.
"You survived," Taronis said. "But survival is only the first step."
Drakar forced himself to sit, though his limbs trembled. "What... what is next?"
Taronis knelt and pressed his palm against Drakar's chest. The touch wasn't forceful, yet a strange pressure rippled through Drakar's body.
"Your body is weak," Taronis said. "You relied on sheer will to ascend, but if your foundation remains brittle, it will shatter. You must become like tempered steel—unbending, unbreakable."
Drakar's golden eyes locked with Taronis's gaze. "Then teach me."
Taronis rose, his robes billowing in the morning breeze. "Follow."
The Blade Monk led Drakar to a clearing beneath the waterfall, where jagged stones jutted from the ground like fangs. The sound of crashing water filled the air, a constant hum."Strike the stones," Taronis instructed.
Drakar blinked. "With my hands?"
Taronis nodded. "Bare your hands. Strike until you no longer feel pain."
Drakar unwrapped the bindings from his palms. His fingers were raw from the climb, his knuckles stained with dried blood.
He raised his fist and struck.
The first blow sent pain lancing up his arm. The shock vibrated through his shoulder.
Again.
The second strike split the skin further. Blood trickled down his knuckles.
"Pain is an illusion," Taronis said, his voice calm amidst the roar of water. "Your body will beg you to stop. Do not listen."
Drakar struck again.
And again.
The stone remained unbroken, but so did he.
Hours passed. His vision blurred. His fists throbbed, but he no longer distinguished pain from determination.
Finally, as the sun reached its zenith, his strike landed with a loud crack. A fracture splintered across the stone.
Taronis stepped forward, his gaze sharp. "Good. But remember—breaking a stone does not make you strong. Becoming the stone does."
That night, Drakar lay beneath the stars, his battered hands wrapped in cloth. The pain pulsed in time with his heartbeat.He thought of his village. Of Roghar's taunts.
But more than anything, he thought of his vow.
"Elaria," he whispered. "I will endure. I will become more than they believe I can be."
The stars above shimmered, silent witnesses to his promise.
The next day, Taronis awaited him at dawn.
"No rest?" Drakar asked.
Taronis's faint smile returned. "The path of strength offers none."
Drakar rose, fists clenched. His training had only begun.