Light flashed again. Leo blinked rapidly, vision clearing to reveal a medieval-looking square surrounded by rustic buildings of wood and stone. The air was crisp, carrying hints of smoke from distant fires. Scattered around the square were a handful of survivors, most nursing injuries or lying motionless on the cobbled ground.
Leo spotted two familiar faces—the fierce red-haired woman and the calm-eyed man—standing together, remarkably unharmed. Unlike most survivors, they appeared composed, almost as if they had anticipated this situation. He approached cautiously, spear still gripped tightly in his hand.
They turned as he approached, the woman eyeing him appraisingly before nodding slightly, a glint of recognition in her eyes. "No injuries? What talent did you receive?"
"Increased comprehension," Leo replied, voice shaking slightly from exhaustion. He hesitated, sensing they knew more than they let on. "Do you two have any idea what's happening here?"
"More than most," the woman answered cryptically, offering a confident smirk. "I'm Mira, by the way. Enhanced strength and speed."
The muscular man beside her nodded calmly, his demeanor steady and knowing. "I'm Aric. I can control water. You'll understand more soon enough."
Leo felt curiosity and relief intertwine, comforted by their calm yet intrigued by their mysterious certainty. Before he could press further, the square filled with the sound of marching footsteps. Warriors clad in armor etched with glowing glyphs strode purposefully into the square. Without a word, they separated the survivors into smaller groups.
Leo was pulled away from Mira and Aric, guided firmly toward a large, sandy training pit surrounded by worn wooden barriers. Inside stood an older man, grizzled and stern, eyes sharp and calculating beneath a mane of gray hair. The old warrior regarded Leo with an assessing gaze, nodding slightly in greeting.
"Looks like we've got some work to do," the man growled softly, his voice rough but not unkind. "Let's see what you've got."
Leo swallowed hard, absorbing the severity in the man's tone. "And what am I supposed to learn here?"
The old warrior smiled slightly, a sharp glint in his eyes. "I'll teach you two things. Mastery of that spear you're holding, and the fundamentals of cultivation. While cultivation itself has no end, your first priority should be Foundation Establishment. This requires unlocking all twenty-one qi points within your body. Are you ready?"
Leo straightened, resolve flaring in his chest. "I'm ready."
"Good," Eldrin nodded. "Then let's begin."
The first lesson began not with strikes, but with silence.
Eldrin took Leo to the edge of the training pit, where wooden posts jutted from the ground in uneven rows. "Forget fighting," he said, placing a callused hand on Leo's shoulder. "First, you must listen. The spear is not a club. It is not strength. It is rhythm."
He demonstrated, stepping into the rows. His movements were almost lazy—loose and flowing—but every sweep of the spear sliced clean arcs through the air. He moved with a grace that seemed too fluid for his age, as though the weapon followed its own music and he simply allowed it to dance.
Leo tried to mimic him and failed miserably. His spear clunked awkwardly against the wood, his balance faltered, and his grip chafed.
Eldrin offered no criticism. Instead, he stepped behind Leo and guided his arms gently, repositioning his stance. "You're holding it like a stick. Feel it as an extension of your spine, not your hands. Let it breathe with you."
Again and again, Leo moved. Each night, his shoulders ached, his palms blistered, but his motion became smoother, his grip more precise. By the third day, the clumsy flailing had become something like grace. He could feel when the spear wanted to turn, when it sought a path through the air.
"You see it now," Eldrin said, watching him finish a perfect figure-eight sweep. "The spear doesn't strike—it sings. It carves its own path. All you do is listen."
In the quiet hours before dawn, Eldrin led Leo to a secluded grove beyond the village. "Now we turn inward," he said, lowering himself onto a flat stone. "Cultivation is perception. Strength of will. The body is the furnace. Qi is the fire."
Leo sat cross-legged, mirroring him.
"Close your eyes," Eldrin instructed. "Breathe. Deep and slow. Feel your heartbeat. Then feel beyond it. There is essence all around—slivers of the world's soul. Find it."
At first, there was only blackness and his own ragged breath. But slowly, sensation changed. The air became thick, textured. He could feel it pressing against his skin, humming beneath the surface of things.
Then, heat.
It wasn't physical warmth, but something deeper—an inner flame flickering just below his navel. It pulsed like a tiny sun. "That's fire essence," Eldrin confirmed, watching him closely. "It comes to you easily. But fire alone will not open a point. You need more."
Each qi point required balance, not just raw power. On the second night, Eldrin introduced him to void-breathing, a rare meditation technique. It was harder than anything Leo had done. He had to silence his mind completely, stretch his awareness outward—searching for the faintest trace of space essence.
For hours, he felt nothing.
Then, a ripple.
A moment of stillness so profound it felt like the world exhaled. In that silence, he touched it: the cool, infinite echo of space. A presence without shape or sound, like standing at the edge of a vast, starless sea.
He drew it in.
Fire flared inside him. Space wrapped around it, tempering the flame, lending it depth. A sudden pulse—click. The first qi point burst open, sending energy coursing through his body like molten gold.
He gasped aloud.
"You've opened it," Eldrin said, a rare smile creasing his face. "You're awakening."
Each day was a rhythm of physical trial and mental challenge. Mornings filled with spear forms, afternoons spent cycling his breath and drawing essence. Fire came to him with increasing ease—flaring bright and fierce when his emotions surged. But space was harder. Subtle. Elusive. He had to chase it with stillness.
On the fifth day, during a particularly grueling meditation, Leo found it again—this time even more stable. He shaped it with fire and directed it inward. His second qi point opened, a rush of vitality and clarity flooding through him like lightning striking water.
He stood, drenched in sweat, but radiant.
Eldrin clapped once. "Excellent. Two points. Most can barely manage one in their first week."
"But I don't feel done," Leo said, staring at his hands, still tingling with residual energy.
"You're not," Eldrin replied, voice low and certain. "You've only just stepped onto the path. But your footing is strong. And soon, you'll need it."
He turned toward the village gates, where a bell began to toll—a deep, resonant sound that echoed across the fields.
"They're calling the awakened. The next floor waits."
Leo tightened his grip on the spear. His body thrummed with newfound power. His mind burned with questions.
But his heart was steady.
"I'm ready," he said.
Eldrin nodded once, eyes proud. "Then go. And listen—to your spear, your breath, and the space between all things."