The Floating Monastery
Steve Rogers had crossed mountains, deserts, swamps, and tundras. He had learned the ways of the Wolf, the Cat, the Griffin, the Bear, the Viper, and the Manticore.
Each trial had shaped him.
But now, he stood before the final test.
The Trial of the Crane.
The monastery was not built on land. It floated atop an enormous stone pillar, rising high above the mist-covered valley below. The only way up? A single, narrow bridge of rope and wood, swaying in the wind.
Steve took a breath and stepped forward.
As soon as he did—the bridge vanished.
He was falling.
Lesson One: The Flow of Battle
Steve hit the ground—except he didn't.
He landed on his feet, in the middle of a vast, endless lake. The water was like glass, unbroken beneath him.
A voice whispered. "You have learned strength, speed, cunning, and wisdom. Now, learn balance."
The water rippled.
Then—attacks came from all sides.
A Wolf's strike—relentless, powerful.
A Cat's slash—fast, unpredictable.
A Griffin's spell—wind slicing through the air.
A Bear's charge—unyielding as a mountain.
A Viper's dagger—silent, deadly.
A Manticore's illusion—turning the battlefield into chaos.
Steve reacted.
He blocked, dodged, countered, switching between weapons, styles, and tactics.
He used his shield to absorb a Wolf's strike.
He sidestepped a Cat's feint and disarmed the attacker.
He called on Igni, sending flames at the Griffin before switching to Axii to calm the Bear's fury.
He caught the Viper's dagger with his gauntlet and deflected the Manticore's illusion, relying on instinct over sight.
Every move flowed into the next.
Every weapon, every style, every lesson became one.
For the first time, Steve was not adapting to others.
He was fighting as himself.
Lesson Two: The Weight of the Shield
The attacks faded.
The lake became still.
Steve stood alone, his shield in hand.
A figure stepped forward, clad in simple robes. Their face was a reflection of his own.
"What is your shield, Steve Rogers?"
Steve frowned. "A weapon. A defense. A symbol."
The figure tilted its head. "And what are you?"
Steve hesitated.
A soldier? A Witcher? A leader?
"You carry the weight of the world," the figure said. "But have you ever carried yourself?"
The words hit harder than any blow.
Steve had always fought for others. For a cause. For a mission.
But who was he beyond that?
He looked at the shield in his hand. It had always been a symbol of protection, of defiance, of responsibility.
But today—it was a choice.
A choice to fight not because he had to.
But because he chose to.
For himself.
Lesson Three: The True Trial
The reflection stepped back. Bowed.
"You understand now."
The lake rippled.
And Steve was back at the monastery.
The Cranes stood before him, their gazes calm.
One of them stepped forward, placing a single feather in his hand.
"Balance is not just strength and wisdom. It is knowing when to fight, when to lead, when to stand, and when to rest. You are ready."
Steve bowed his head.
He had walked through fire and shadow, through pain and revelation.
And he had found himself.
Now, his journey truly began.