Tsuneo raised a gloved hand, halting the others. "Scout the eastern ridges." His masked gaze shifted to Tamotsu. "You. With me." He turned, leading the bewildered young man back towards Sanctuary's looming black gate. The two guards watched their approach, hands tightening on weapon grips.
As they walked, Tsuneo's voice cut through the ash-laden silence, calm yet probing. "Your power. Ice. Pure ice. Forming mere moments after death?" A slight, almost imperceptible shake of his head. "I've witnessed countless death-gifts. Firestorms. Living shadows. Skin hardening to stone. Blurs of speed. Common threads in this tapestry of despair. But *this?"** His tone sharpened. "Rare. Perhaps one soul in a century. Never seen it manifest."
Tamotsu's fingers brushed the cold pulse beneath his tunic. "Why... why is it rare?"
"Unknown," Tsuneo admitted flatly. "Perhaps the soul requires a unique core of cold. Or the Vale itself resonates differently with such a spirit." He nodded towards the monolithic gate. "Sanctuary. A bastion. Safe behind fused stone. But safety here is currency, boy. Earned daily."
"What... what happens inside?" Tamotsu asked, eyeing the wary guards.
"Tournaments," Tsuneo stated. "Constant. Relentless. The strong prove their worth. Win rank. Become shields."
"Rank? Like what?"
"'Stone Warden' is the pinnacle here,"Tsuneo explained, his voice devoid of inflection. "The village's mailed fist. They hunt beyond the walls. Slay demons. Enforce order within. They face the Vale's true terrors. Others vie to be 'Ash Stalkers' – scouts, hunters, shadows. Or 'Ember Healers' – menders who knit flesh with stolen warmth. But the Stone Warden?" He glanced sideways at Tamotsu, the mask unreadable. "Earned with blood, steel... or raw, undeniable power."
"Sounds brutal," Tamotsu muttered.
"Patience," Tsuneo said, the word dropping like a stone. Then, without warning, his hand struck – fingers rigid as steel spikes, aimed for Tamotsu's exposed throat!
"Ah!" Tamotsu recoiled. The void in his chest exploded with cold. Frost crackleddown his right arm, encasing it in jagged, crystalline ice armor just as Tsuneo's strike connected.
The impact vibrated up Tamotsu's frozen limb. He staggered back, arm numb but intact.
Tsuneo lowered his hand. "Good. Instinctive defense. Reaction speed... adequate." He took a deliberate step back. "But remember Lesson One: Patience is your shield. Trust is a knife you hand away. Never lower your guard. Not even in conversation." He tilted his head fractionally. "You may call me Tsuneo."
"Tsuneo," Tamotsu breathed, forcing the ice to shatter and melt away. "Understood."
"Now," Tsuneo said, turning sharply away from Sanctuary's imposing gate. "Your true education begins. Follow."
Tsuneo led him to a vast, scarred expanse near the village's edge – the Proving Ground. Flat volcanic stone, etched with countless gouges, burns, and strange discolorations. "Here, power is measured," Tsuneo stated, gesturing to the desolate arena. "Now. Yours.
"Focus," Tsuneo commanded, his voice cutting through the ash-fall. "Summon the ice. Not a weapon. A simple shape. A sphere." He pointed to the ground before Tamotsu. "Stage One: 'Spark'. Feel the cold. Make it visible. A wisp. A breath."
Tamotsu strained. Concentration furrowed his brow. A faint mist coalesced above his palm, forming a fragile layer of frost. "Stage One... Spark?"
"Yes. Now Stage Two: 'Flow'. Shape it. Command it. Move it. Form the sphere."
Tamotsu pushed harder. Frost swirled
chaotically. A jagged, ugly lump of ice formed, then split apart. He tried again. A rough, lopsided ball materialized, already weeping droplets. Sweat beaded on his forehead, stinging his eyes. "It's... draining. So hard."
"Control," Tsuneo said, unmoved. "Not brute force. Be the conduit. Stage Two demands discipline."
Tamotsu clenched his fists, head throbbing. He forced another lump into existence, marginally smoother. It cost him everything. His vision blurred. His legs trembled violently. "I... can't hold..." he gasped, the words slurring. The world spun. Exhaustion hit him like a physical blow. He stumbled, tripped over his own buckling legs, and pitched face-first towards the unforgiving stone.
No! Raw panic screamed through him as gravity took hold.
The icy power within his chest detonatedoutwards – wild, desperate, utterly uncontrolled.
A perfect ring of razor-sharp ice spikes, each as long as his forearm and gleaming with lethal cold, erupted from the stone floor around him! They formed a deadly palisade mere inches before his face slammed into the ground. Tamotsu hit the ash inside the protective circle, gasping like a landed fish, utterly spent. The spikes stood sentinel, radiating cold mist.
Tsuneo, who had been standing perilously close, moved. Not just fast – flowingbackwards, a shadow detached from substance, his cloak snapping like a wing. He landed soundlessly several paces away, staring at the sudden, perfect ring of ice. Not just surprised. Profoundlyshocked.
His masked gaze locked onto the defensive formation, then snapped down to the prone Tamotsu.
"Stage Three..." Tsuneo murmured, the words barely audible, thick with disbelief. "...'Manifest'." He took a step closer, examining the spikes driven deep into the Proving Ground's stone. "Unbidden. Uncontrolled... and defensive?" His hidden eyes lifted, fixing on Tamotsu with terrifying intensity. "Not projected from your form... pulled from the Vale itself?"
He crouched beside the gasping boy, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous vibration. "What are you? Stage Three Manifestation... by accident?" A gloved hand gestured for stillness. "Rest. Breathe. Then we talk." The final words held the weight of shifted worlds. "This... changes everything."