The next morning, Nobori awakens the trio summoning them to the training ground where the rest of the former Four Pillars await them.
Elyra stands at the forefront of the group, her arms folded impressively, gold-flecked eyes raking over them with measured calculation as she assesses their resolve.
"We've gathered that this trial will begin in a month's time. So we'll have to get you as ready for it as possible." she declares. Her voice is calm but commanding. "We know Nobori already taught you the basics. But until then we will train you in mana mastery, weapons training, spirit synchronization, and combat decision-making. No mercy, no shortcuts. You have one month to become warriors worthy of leading."
Behind her, the rest of the former Four Pillars step forward.
The trio exchanges tense glances. Shiku straightens his back instinctively. Houki's gaze narrows—less in defiance, more in hunger. He needed this. Kasumi, already in a stance of readiness, nods firmly.
Nobori, silent and observant.
Tenka, smiling widely, his fiery red aura flashing around his body clashing with his orange hair.
Brannok, holding his signature sledge axe tightly in his hands.
And finally, Elyra—whose very presence radiates command.
"You're not children anymore," Brannok speaks, voice gravelly. "So we won't treat you like it."
"We'll find out if you're really warriors, or just lucky survivors," Nobori adds, stepping forward with arms crossed. "Because on the battlefield, luck won't save you."
The trio stands firm—Houki with clenched fists, Shiku trying to hide the nerves behind a cocky grin, and Kasumi's eyes locked dead ahead, calm but focused.
"Let's start," Elyra says coolly, gesturing to the open grassy area. "We'll separate you. Each of us will test and train you in the area where you're weakest."
"Wait, weakest?" Shiku says, frowning.
Elyra shoots him a glare that shuts him up instantly. "You'll thank us later."
Elyra beckons Houki with a sharp tilt of her head. "You're with me. Let's see how well you actually understand the spirit you've bound yourself to."
As he follows her to a secluded section of the field, the air thickens, heavier somehow. Runes etched into the stone flare to life beneath their feet.
"Sit," Elyra commands.
Houki drops into a cross-legged position.
"Close your eyes. Call to it. Not its power—it. Synchronization is not domination. It's alignment."
Houki closes his eyes. "Nyxen," he breathes.
The wind stills.
A rush of void energy coils around him, not violent, but ever-watching. Elyra observes with narrowed eyes.
"You're not in control," she says quietly. "But… it listens."
As he enters his vestige world a black pulse spreads from Houki's chest, the telltale hum of Nyxen's presence vibrating through the ground. A vision flickers through his mind—something vast, ancient, and cold.
"Child you've returned to my home," Nyxen says with an eerie tone.
Houki floats around the spirit trying to gain control over his movements.
Both Nyxen and Houki just stare at each other for a moment. Until Nyxen says "Your will is great. But you still question the path the void takes you."
"I only question the power of the void only being defensive," Houki explains.
"Child… the void does not strike nor shield. It shapes. It is creation through emptiness." Nyxen replies.
And for the first time, he sees Nyxen full form not just as a presence.
Elyra watches with a sense of satisfaction as Houki achieves a significant milestone in his journey. His aura began to increase exponentially, a clear indicator of his progress. Reaching the first stage in synchronizing with his spirit, Houki demonstrates not only his potential but also the bond he is starting to form. Elyra feels proud of his accomplishments, recognizing the effort it took to reach this point.
On the other side of the field.
"Your problem," Nobori says as he walks circles around Shiku, "is that you treat mana like fuel. A one-and-done. You pour, you burn, you swing."
"Isn't that what it is?" Shiku asks, shrugging.
Nobori slaps the back of his head.
"No. It's breath. It's rhythm. Try to force it, and it'll break you. Try to hoard it, and it'll wither."
He steps back and raises his hand, gathering his focus. Drawing on just ten percent of his power, he unleashes a crushing wave of mana pressure that slams down on Shiku like a boulder, overwhelming him with force..
Shiku drops to one knee instantly, sweat pouring from his forehead. "What the hell…"
"This is what true combat feels like," Nobori says, intensifying the pressure. "Now, rise."
Shiku grits his teeth, his knees shaking beneath the weight. Flames begin to flicker across his arms, erratic and wild.
"Not control," Nobori says. "Harmony. Let it burn, but don't let it consume."
Shiku snarls, roaring as he slowly rises to both feet, flames surrounding him more evenly now. The pressure doesn't vanish—but it no longer smothers him.
"Hmph," Nobori grunts. "Better. Again."
Tenka stretches lazily, firelight dancing off his forearms as he eyes Kasumi with a mischievous smirk. "Kasumi. You've got precision. Technique. But you think too much."
"I think fast," she corrects, unflinching.
"Not fast enough. In chaos, instinct wins."
Tenka cracks his knuckles, flames igniting across his knuckles in short pulses. "I'm chaos. And you're going to learn to survive it."
Without warning, he rushes in. Not like a soldier—but like a brawler. Wild swings. Explosive footwork. Unpredictable patterns that make no sense.
Kasumi darts back, deflecting with clean, efficient blocks—but her rhythm falters under Tenka's madness.
"You're thinking too much!" Tenka bellows, flames erupting around him. "I can see it in your eyes! One, two, three… you're counting. Stop it!"
She grits her teeth, shifting into a low sweep. He leaps over it, twisting midair and sending a burst of flame toward her chest. She rolls away just in time—but he's already there again.
Another punch.
Another dodge.
Another explosion.
Kasumi snarls, finally letting go of her calculated stance. Her movements loosen. She counters his next swing with a rapid pivot, elbowing his ribs and ducking under the returning blow.
Tenka laughs—gleeful. "That's what I'm talking about! Stop fighting like a soldier—fight like you're alive!"
By the time he calls for a break, Kasumi is panting, sweat streaking her brow—but she's smiling.
For the first time in a while, she feels free.
Later, the trio stands before a long table covered in various weapons—spears, axes, swords, polearms, twin blades, and weighted chains.
Brannok stands before them like a stone wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"You've all got your magic. Your spirits. Your spark," he says flatly. "But when your mana's drained and your spirits fall silent, what will you be left with?"
He slams the butt of his axe into the ground. "Steel. Grit. Instinct."
He gestures to the weapons laid out. "Pick."
Houki picks two small scythes and weighted chains. Kasumi grabs gauntlets. Shiku grabs a staff —and then swaps them out for twin daggers "Nah, this one feels better," he mumbles.
Brannok observes silently, then grunts. "We'll see."
He doesn't waste time. Within seconds, he's sparring each of them one by one. No magic. No spirit enhancements. Just raw technique.
Houki is precise, but too reliant on dodging.
Shiku is agile, but careless with defense.
Kasumi is measured, but hesitant to go for a finishing blow.
Brannok exploits every gap.
Cracks every weakness.
"You're not warriors," he growls after knocking all three to the ground. "You're dancers playing pretend. Again."
No one complains.
They rise, pick up their weapons again, and return to their stance.
This time, no jokes.
This time, no hesitation.
This time, the training becomes real.
❧
The next morning, the trio prepares for another day of training, each mentor selecting their apprentice for the session. Elyra takes Shiku under her wing, guiding them through the day's exercises. Meanwhile, Nobori teams up with Kasumi, focusing on developing her skills and understanding. On the other hand, Tenka joins forces with Houki, ensuring that each student receives the attention they need to improve.
The sun hangs lower this morning, casting long shadows across the training field. The air is cooler, but there's no mistaking the rising tension.
"Today will not be like yesterday," Elyra announces as she stands beside Shiku. Her arms are folded, but there's a sharpness in her tone that makes his cocky grin falter. "You're with me now. And unlike Nobori, I won't go easy on your arrogance."
Shiku's grin returns, albeit with a nervous edge. "Wouldn't want you to."
Elyra gestures toward the grassy area where she had taken Houki the previous day. "Sit, child," she demands with a calm yet stern tone. "Mana control isn't just power output; it's adaptability, " she continues.
Shiku pouts but sits anyway grumbling as he feels the cold dew soak through his pants, wishing the morning would move faster. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
Five minutes pass in silence, and he begins to feel a sense of restlessness. Curiosity piqued, he cautiously opens one eye to glance at Elyra. "Is something supposed to happen?" He asks, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "Or is this just a breathing exercise?"
Elyra strikes a stick against her arm, the sharp crack reverberating across the entire training field. "Silence, child," she bellows, her voice cutting through the air. "This is spirit synchronization not just a mere breathing exercise. You must fully connect with your spirit, as it is now intertwined with your very soul."
Shiku huffs, closing his eyes once again after another five minutes he finally feels something. A rush of mana surges throughout his body as Elyra's presence deepens, a faint pulse spreading from his core into each limb, making him shiver despite himself. It isn't just heat—it is alive. It surges, retreats, then surges again, like it's testing him back.
As Shiku's mind steps into his vestige world, a wild and rampant flame suddenly erupts across his arms. The fire quickly envelopes his entire body, casting an intense glow around him. Elyra instinctively takes a step back, her eyes wide with shock at the sight unfolding before her. The mesmerizing yet terrifying display left her momentarily speechless, caught between awe and fear.
Elyra observes the boy with a mix of awe and curiosity. His mana reserves are already noteworthy, even though he has yet to reach the first stage of synchronizing with his spirit. She can't help but imagine the potential that lies ahead of him. Once he fully synchronized with his spirit, she thinks, he could possess an almost unlimited supply of mana, a power that would be unimaginable. The possibilities fill her with both excitement and anticipation as she contemplates his future.
The once fiery mass has become a fiery figure with no defining features. Shiku steps toward it with no caution to his well-being and reaches out trying to grab hold of it. The figure known as Incedis turns and stares at him.
"You may wield the eternal flame but its power is too great for a mere uncontrolled child like you. The eternal flame isn't a raging flame like other flames but a beacon of light and hope," Incedis bellows. His voice sends a massive wave of scorching heat towards Shiku.
Shiku staggers under the weight of the voice alone. The heat that follows is immense—hotter than anything he's ever felt. Not the kind of flame that burns buildings or scorches flesh. This is soulfire—heat that strips away pretense, ego, fear. It brings him to his knees, every part of him trembling as if something inside is being peeled away.
Yet even as he gasps for air, flames swirling around him like a vortex, Shiku doesn't retreat.
He pushes forward, teeth clenched, eyes burning with the same fire he's trying to tame.
"I'm not scared of your heat," he growls through grit and ash. "I've lived in it."
Incedis narrows his gaze, his fiery form shifting, towering.
"Then stop resisting it like a fool," the spirit snarls. "You reach for power without accepting its meaning. The eternal flame is not rage. It is resolve. You do not fight it. You embody it."
A pulse blasts from Incedis' core. Shiku is flung backward, tumbling through the ash-covered ground of his vestige world, coughing and clutching his ribs. Still, he doesn't stop. Doesn't quit.
He rises.
Slowly.
Painfully.
But steadily.
The flames lick at him, testing his resolve. This time, he doesn't try to push them down or smother them.
He breathes in.
And let's them in.
For a moment, he's engulfed. The fire doesn't just burn around him—it becomes him. Inside the flame, he feels its—purpose. It's not wrath. Not destruction. It's warmth. Shelter. A defiant light that stands tall in the darkness.
Incedis watches silently, the fire-spirit's posture shifting from opposition… to approval.
"You may yet be worthy," he rumbles. "But this was only the first ember. To ignite the beacon, you must burn brighter than despair itself."
Outside the vestige world, Shiku gasps aloud
The flames that once raged wildly around him now glow calmly, coiling around his arms in controlled, rhythmic waves.
Elyra watches, impressed. She senses it—the spark of synchrony. He hasn't mastered it. But he's begun to listen.
And that changes everything.
Across the field, Kasumi stands with Nobori, the weight of her gauntlets grounding her stance. Nobori circles her like a stalking predator.
Nobori looks at Kasumi with a mix of pride and concern. "You've blossomed more than I imagined since we started combat training," he says, his tone reminiscent of a proud father. Despite his praise, he continues, "But you still struggle with standing out amongst stronger warriors." His words hover in the air, a reminder of the challenges that lay ahead and the personal growth she still needs to achieve.
Kasumi doesn't flinch at his words. "Then make me stand out," she says, her voice steady.
A slow smirk spreads across Nobori's face. "Gladly."
Without warning, he lunges. His strikes come fast, fist to gauntlet, each blow heavier than the last. The first knocks her back a step, the second forces her into a crouch. She blocks the third, feeling the jolt travel up her arms into her shoulders.
"You're meeting my strength head-on," Nobori says between strikes. "Good. But standing out isn't about being the strongest — it's about being the one they can't ignore."
Kasumi exhales sharply, sidestepping his next blow and driving a sharp jab toward his midsection. He twists, deflecting it easily, but she follows with a low sweep that forces him back.
He chuckles. "Better. Now stop thinking about the next move. Feel it."
She closes her eyes for a fraction of a second — just long enough to let the rhythm of his steps and the shift of his weight guide her. The next time he strikes, she pivots in perfect timing, her gauntlet grazing past his cheek in a clean, fluid counter.
The faintest look of surprise flashes in his eyes before it's gone. "You're getting it."
Kasumi doesn't smile, but her breathing steadies. She can feel it — that same instinct Tenka had tried to spark yesterday — but now honed, anchored in precision rather than chaos.
Across the field, Houki stands opposite Tenka, the twin scythes in his hands glinting faintly. Tenka stretches his arms lazily, fire crackling across his palms.
"You're a Void user," Tenka says, his grin sharp and wild. "That means you're all about shaping, right? Let's see if you can shape fire itself."
Before Houki can answer, Tenka slams his hand to the ground. A geyser of flame erupts beneath Houki's feet, forcing him to leap aside. Tenka laughs, snapping his fingers — another burst explodes behind him, then a spiraling arc of flame cuts across the air.
Houki dodges, his chains flashing as he redirects sparks and embers. But the fire keeps coming — waves, pillars, orbs that scatter like shrapnel. Tenka fights like a storm, his magic chaotic and unrelenting.
"You dodge well," Tenka calls, hurling a fireball that blossoms into a rain of flaming shards. "But dodging isn't shaping."
Houki grits his teeth, scythes scraping against the dirt as he anchors himself. The Void does not strike… nor shield. It shapes.
He exhales, shutting out the chaos. The firestorm slows in his perception. The heat no longer roars in his ears — it hums, like a pattern waiting to be bent.
A torrent of flame rushes toward him. Instead of retreating, Houki spins his chain, weaving the void's energy into its arc. The fire twists unnaturally, bending midair, spiraling harmlessly around him before fizzling into smoke.
Tenka halts, blinking. Then he bursts into wild laughter. "Yes! That's it! That's the Void — not resisting fire, but guiding it. You didn't stop my spell. You rewrote it."
Houki doesn't answer. His chest rises and falls with steady breaths, but his eyes burn with quiet determination.
Tenka lowers his hands, flames fading around him. "You're still green. But if you keep this up? You'll become something even I can't predict. And that's saying something."
By sunset, the three stand together again, battered but unbowed. Their arms hang heavy, their clothes scorched, dirt streaking across their skin. Sweat beads down their foreheads, yet their eyes burn with something sharper than exhaustion.
The Four Pillars watch them from the shade of the training posts. Brannok leans on his axe, his expression unreadable. Elyra folds her arms, her gold-flecked eyes keen as ever. Tenka still wears his wolfish grin, and Nobori's silence says more than words ever could.
"Day two, and you're still standing," Brannok rumbles. "That's worth something."
"Barely," Tenka adds with a smirk, though his tone carries an edge of respect.
Shiku glances sideways at Houki and Kasumi, then grins despite his aching muscles. "Barely's enough."
Kasumi exhales, her gauntlets still strapped tightly around her fists. "No," she corrects firmly. "Barely isn't enough. Not for what's coming."
Houki nods, his eyes steady, darker somehow after the lessons of the void. "She's right. We can't just survive this trial. We have to prove we deserve to lead."
The words hang in the air, heavier than the silence that follows. For a moment, none of the Four Pillars speaks. Then Elyra steps forward, her presence alone commanding the field.
"You've begun to understand," she says, her voice carrying the weight of judgment. "Power is meaningless without resolve. Resolve is meaningless without purpose. And purpose is meaningless unless others see it and follow."
Her gaze lingers on each of them, sharp as a blade, soft as firelight. "That is what it means to lead."
The trio straightens instinctively, not out of duty, but out of something deeper — a budding conviction that wasn't there before.
Nobori finally breaks his silence. "One month," he reminds them, his tone like stone grinding against steel. "One month to sharpen that conviction. To make it real. To make yourselves unbreakable."
The sun dips low behind the horizon, staining the training grounds in gold and crimson. The air is thick with heat, mana, and the scent of scorched earth.
For the first time, Shiku, Houki, and Kasumi don't just feel like students.
They feel like warriors in the making.
❧