"Today we begin Shadow training."
Jirou's announcement came after another brutal morning of physical conditioning.
I'd been in the Veilroot for what felt like five weeks, though I'd checked the outside world twice more to confirm only three days had passed there.
My body had changed noticeably—leaner, more defined, with a fluidity of movement I'd never possessed before.
"Shadow training?" I asked, wiping sweat from my forehead.
Jirou's black eyes regarded me impassively.
"Your Innate is Shadow. Your physical training should align with your natural inclinations."
He gestured for me to follow him toward the edge of the training ground.
We approached an area I'd never entered before—a section where the mist seemed permanently settled, obscuring whatever lay beyond.
"The Silent Path lies ahead," Jirou explained. "A training ground specifically attuned to Shadow essence users."
As we neared the mist, I could make out what appeared to be the entrance to some kind of course or maze.
Stone pillars marked the way, each carved with the same kind of symbols I'd noticed on the training posts.
"What exactly am I supposed to do in there?" I asked.
"Move through the path without being detected," Jirou said.
Simple enough.
"Detected by what?"
Jirou didn't answer directly.
"The Silent Path responds to sound, vibration, and intent. Careless movement triggers... consequences."
Something about the way he said "consequences" made me uneasy.
"You will navigate from entrance to exit," he continued. "No essence use, of course. Only the physical discipline you have learned."
I studied the misty entrance with growing skepticism.
"Any more specific instructions? Tips? Warnings about deadly traps?"
Jirou almost smiled.
Almost.
"Excess questions reveal anxiety," he observed. "Trust your training."
With that unhelpful advice, he gestured for me to enter.
I stood at the threshold, peering into the mist.
The breathing pattern I'd been drilling for days activated automatically.
Inhale for eight. Hold for four. Exhale for eight. Hold for four.
"Begin when ready," Jirou said from behind me.
I took one last deep breath and stepped into the mist.
Immediately, the environment changed.
The mist thinned just enough to reveal a narrow path flanked by dark stone walls.
The ground beneath my feet wasn't earth or stone, but some kind of responsive surface that seemed to absorb the impact of my steps.
I moved forward cautiously, testing each step.
The breathing pattern helped me maintain calm focus as I ventured deeper.
About twenty paces in, I noticed something strange about the walls.
They weren't solid, but composed of thousands of thin, needle-like protrusions.
As I watched, one section rippled slightly, the needles extending and retracting in a wave pattern.
I froze, unsure what had triggered the movement.
Then I realized—my breath.
When I exhaled too forcefully, the walls responded.
"Silent Path indeed," I murmured.
Immediately, the nearest section of wall shot outward, needles extending six inches in my direction.
I jerked back instinctively.
The sudden movement caused vibrations in the floor, which triggered another section of wall to react.
Within seconds, I was surrounded by extending needle points from all sides.
I forced myself to be absolutely still.
To control my breathing exactly as Jirou had taught me.
Gradually, the needles retracted.
Lesson learned: No talking. Controlled breathing. Minimal vibration.
I continued forward, now hyper-aware of each movement.
The path twisted and turned, sometimes narrowing to barely shoulder-width.
At one junction, I faced a choice between three possible routes.
The left path was wider, seemingly easier.
The center path continued straight, narrow but clear.
The right path descended slightly, disappearing into deeper mist.
I studied all three, listening and observing.
After a moment's consideration, I chose the center path.
The easy path seemed too... obvious.
The Silent Path grew more challenging with each section.
In one area, the floor became a series of pressure-sensitive plates that would trigger the walls if stepped on improperly.
I had to distribute my weight carefully, sometimes balancing on the edges between plates.
Another section featured ceiling elements that descended slowly toward the floor, forcing me to time my movements precisely.
Throughout it all, I maintained the breathing pattern.
Inhale for eight. Hold for four. Exhale for eight. Hold for four.
The rhythm kept me centered, prevented panic.
About halfway through—at least I hoped it was halfway—I encountered a particularly difficult obstacle.
The path here widened into a chamber filled with what appeared to be delicate crystal formations growing from floor to ceiling.
They vibrated faintly, producing barely audible tones that seemed to shift and change.
I stopped at the entrance, studying the challenge.
The crystals were positioned so closely together that navigating between them would require extreme precision.
And they clearly responded to sound and vibration.
I closed my eyes for a moment, focusing entirely on my breathing.
Then I opened them and began to move.
Slowly. Deliberately. Each step placed with absolute precision.
The crystals hummed softly as I passed, their tones shifting in response to my presence.
Halfway through the crystal chamber, I froze.
A sound caught my attention—different from the crystal harmonics.
It was faint, distant, but unmistakable.
A voice.
"...help..."
I turned my head slightly, trying to locate the source.
"...please...help..."
It sounded like it came from somewhere behind the chamber walls—distant and warped, as if passing through water.
I listened intently, but the voice didn't come again.
Had I imagined it?
The stress of the challenge playing tricks on my mind?
A crystal near my shoulder began to vibrate more intensely, reminding me of my task.
I pushed the strange voice from my thoughts and continued through the chamber.
After navigating the crystal maze, the path narrowed again, now sloping gently upward.
The next challenge was perhaps the most difficult yet.
The path here was suspended over a pit of what looked like black liquid.
Stepping stones provided a way across, but they were spaced irregularly and some appeared to be unstable.
I studied the pattern, trying to identify the safest route.
There was no clear path—I would need to risk some jumps between stones.
I took a deep breath and began.
The first few stones were stable enough.
But as I reached the middle, I discovered the true challenge.
The stones weren't just testing balance—they responded to weight distribution.
Press too hard on one edge, and the stone would tilt.
Several times, I nearly pitched forward into the black liquid below.
Only the balance training from those endless hours on Jirou's posts saved me.
Three-quarters across, I heard that voice again.
"...trapped...so long..."
It was clearer this time, though still distant—a woman's voice, wracked with desperation.
I faltered, nearly losing my footing on a particularly unstable stone.
Focus, I reminded myself. Complete the path first.
With careful movements, I made it to the other side.
The final section of the Silent Path was deceptively simple.
A straight corridor, seemingly free of obstacles.
I moved forward cautiously, suspecting a trap.
About halfway down, I felt it—a subtle change in air pressure.
I stopped, observing the corridor more carefully.
Nearly invisible threads crisscrossed the path ahead, strung at various heights.
Trip wires, essentially.
I would need to move through them without triggering whatever consequences they controlled.
This was where the flexibility training Jirou had forced on me proved its worth.
Bending, twisting, contorting my body in ways I never thought possible before this training.
The breathing pattern maintained throughout.
Finally, I saw it—the exit from the Silent Path, a archway of stone ahead.
I approached carefully, wary of one final trap.
But the exit seemed genuine.
I stepped through, emerging from the mist back into the main training ground.
Jirou stood waiting, his expression—as usual—revealing nothing.
"You heard it," he stated, not a question.
I nodded, suddenly remembering the strange voice.
"A woman's voice. Asking for help. Was that part of the test?"
Something flickered across Jirou's face—too quick to identify.
"The Silent Path can create auditory illusions," he said. "Echoes of past trainees, perhaps. Meaningless."
His explanation seemed reasonable enough, but something about his tone felt off.
"How did I do?" I asked, changing the subject.
"You completed the path," Jirou acknowledged. "Many do not."
Coming from him, that was high praise.
"You adapted well. Showed patience. Used your training appropriately."
I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride.
A month ago, I wouldn't have made it through the first section.
Now, I'd navigated an entire course designed to punish the slightest error.
"Your movements still lack true efficiency," Jirou continued, because of course he couldn't let the praise stand unchallenged. "But there is improvement."
He turned and began walking back toward the central training area.
"Tomorrow we begin integration testing."
"Integration of what?" I asked, following him.
"Everything you have learned," he replied. "Physical conditioning, breath control, silent movement, pain endurance. Combined."
Wonderful. Another delightful day in paradise.
But for all my mental sarcasm, I couldn't deny the results.
My body moved differently now. Responded better. Lasted longer.
I glanced back at the misty entrance to the Silent Path.
Had I really heard a voice? Or was it just part of the test?
As we reached the central area, Jirou indicated I should continue my usual evening routine of stretching and meditation.
While I moved through the familiar forms, I found myself thinking about my progress.
The breathing pattern now felt like second nature.
My balance had improved tremendously.
Even my mental discipline was stronger—I could focus for much longer periods without distraction.
Jirou was harsh, cryptic, and occasionally seemed to enjoy watching me suffer.
But he was also undeniably effective.
I was becoming something different under his guidance.
Something stronger.
As night fell and I settled into my usual spot on the stone ground (still no bedding, of course), I reflected on how much had changed.
I'd gone from being completely clueless to having actual, practical skills.
Not essence manipulation yet, but the foundation for it.
The foundation Jirou had insisted I needed.
Maybe the old man knew what he was talking about after all.
I closed my eyes, the breathing pattern guiding me toward sleep.
Inhale for eight. Hold for four. Exhale for eight. Hold for four.
Just before consciousness faded, I heard it again—so faint I almost missed it.
"...find me..."
The voice from the Silent Path, following me into dreams.