The wooden sword cleaved through the morning mist with a sharp whoosh, striking nothing but air where Kaito Narumi's head had been a heartbeat before. He rolled to the side across the dewy grass, his breath coming in quick puffs as he scrambled to his feet, mud streaking his simple training clothes.
"Too slow," his grandfather, Hachiro, said with a gentle smile that somehow made the criticism sting worse than any shout. The old man's weathered hands gripped his own practice sword with the casual ease of someone who had been fighting longer than Kaito had been breathing. "In six days, you'll stand before the Soul Tree in Wind City. Do you think your opponents will move any slower because you're unpowered?"
Kaito wiped sweat from his brow, his dark hair clinging to his forehead. At seventeen, he was tall for his age, with the lean build of someone who had spent years training but had yet to fill out completely. Most importantly, he was still powerless—one of the few in Sky Village who hadn't begun manifesting even the faintest spark of Soul energy.
"Again," Hachiro commanded, settling into his stance.
The training ground overlooked the village below, where smoke rose from cooking fires and the first merchants were already setting up their stalls in the central square. Sky Village perched on a series of terraced cliffs carved into the mountainside, its name earned by how the morning clouds seemed to drift between the houses built into the rocky ledges. Beyond the village borders, the vast ocean stretched endlessly in all directions, its surface glittering like scattered diamonds under the rising sun.
This was Pegasus land—a continent that bore its name with fierce pride despite the whispers from across the seas. The other lands might call Pegasus the weakest of the five great continents, but Sky Village had produced its share of warriors over the centuries. Not champions, perhaps, but fighters who refused to yield even when the odds stood against them.
Somewhere out there, across those waters, lay the other continents—Gryphon with its noble warriors who looked down on everyone else, Dragon with its sword masters who lived by honor and steel, Naga with its mysterious temples and whispered corruption, and at the center of it all, Poseidon, the capital where legends were born and kings were crowned. The current King of the Sea himself hailed from Gryphon, a fact that the nobles of that land never let anyone forget.
But first, Kaito had to survive his grandfather's training.
He lunged forward, wooden sword raised high, but Hachiro sidestepped with fluid grace and tapped Kaito's ribs with the flat of his blade. The impact sent him stumbling, and he barely managed to keep his footing.
"Your form is improving," Hachiro said, lowering his weapon. "But you're still thinking like someone who expects to rely on Soul powers. In six days, that might change everything."
Kaito straightened, curiosity overriding his frustration. "Grandfather, tell me again about the ceremony. About the journey to Wind City."
Hachiro's expression grew solemn as he set his practice sword aside and gestured for Kaito to sit on a fallen log that served as their usual rest spot. The old man's gray eyes, still sharp despite his seventy years, gazed out over the village toward the distant peaks that marked the path to Wind City.
"Every person in our world must undergo the Coming of Age ceremony when they reach eighteen," Hachiro began, his voice taking on the cadence of someone who had told this story many times. "But unlike the nobles in Gryphon who have Soul Trees in every major settlement, or the Dragon continent where each clan maintains its own sacred grove, we in Pegasus must make a pilgrimage."
Kaito nodded. He had heard fragments of this before, but never the complete story.
"Wind City lies three days' journey from here, nestled in the valley where the mountain winds converge. It's the largest settlement in our region of Pegasus, and at its heart stands one of the greatest Soul Trees in our land." Hachiro's voice carried a note of reverence. "The tree has stood for over two thousand years, its silver bark gleaming like polished metal, its roots extending deep into the earth to touch the primordial ocean that flows beneath all continents."
"And that's where I'll finally discover my power?" Kaito asked, though anxiety gnawed at his chest.
"Perhaps." Hachiro's tone carried a weight that made Kaito look at him sharply. "The Soul Tree reads the essence of who you are, grandson. Most receive one of the six primary elements—fire, lightning, water, air, earth, or healing. These powers can grow stronger with training and dedication."
"But some people get more than one element, right? And others can learn additional ones?"
"Very rarely, and with tremendous effort." Hachiro's voice grew grave. "To master multiple elements requires not just training, but perfect harmony between your soul and the natural forces. It demands sacrifice, discipline, and a strength of will that few possess. Only the current King of the Sea has mastered all six elements, and that achievement took him decades."
A gust of wind swept across the training ground, carrying with it the scent of pine and distant snow from the mountain peaks. Kaito pulled his training jacket tighter around himself as he considered his grandfather's words.
"Tell me about the journey," Kaito said. "About what happens when we reach Wind City."
Hachiro smiled, and for a moment, the years seemed to fall away from his weathered face. "Ah, now that is something to behold. Every village within fifty miles sends their coming-of-age youth to Wind City for the ceremonies. Sky Village, Cloud's Rest, Mountain's Edge, Storm Peak—dozens of settlements make the pilgrimage. The city swells to three times its normal size during ceremony week."
"How many people will be there?"
"Perhaps two hundred young people your age, all standing before the Soul Tree for the first time. The ceremony takes place at dawn, with the village elders forming a great circle around the tree. One by one, each candidate steps forward to place their hand upon the trunk."
Kaito felt a familiar flutter of excitement and terror in his chest. "What if… what if the tree doesn't choose me at all?"
The question that had haunted him for months finally escaped his lips. Around the village, there were whispered stories of those who stood before a Soul Tree and received nothing—no spark of power, no element to call their own. They lived as outcasts, unable to participate in tournaments, unable to dream of glory.
Hachiro was quiet for a long moment, watching a hawk circle high above the village. When he spoke, his voice was gentler than Kaito had ever heard it.
"Then you will face a choice, my grandson. Some who receive no power from the Soul Tree grow bitter. Their souls become vulnerable to… other influences."
"You mean the Asura," Kaito whispered.
His grandfather nodded grimly. "When a soul becomes empty of natural power and filled with resentment, it creates a void. And voids, Kaito, are always filled by something. The Asura that dwell in the depths beneath our ocean are ancient and patient. They whisper to those who feel abandoned by the Soul Tree, offering power in exchange for… cooperation."
"What kind of power?"
"Dark gifts that corrupt the wielder. Poison that can kill with a touch. Magma that burns hotter than any natural fire. The ability to summon creatures of nightmare or transform into monsters themselves. But these powers come with a price—your humanity, piece by piece, until you become merely a vessel for ancient evil."
Kaito shuddered despite the warm morning air. He had seen Asura-touched individuals before, when they occasionally passed through Sky Village. Their eyes held a coldness that made his skin crawl, and the air around them seemed to whisper with malevolent energy. Most came from Naga land, where corruption ran deepest, but no continent was completely free of their influence.
"But you won't face that choice," Hachiro said firmly, placing a weathered hand on Kaito's shoulder. "You have the soul of a warrior, grandson. I've seen it in how you train, how you refuse to give up even when every practice bout ends in defeat. The Soul Tree will recognize that strength."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then you'll prove that true strength comes from within, not from magical gifts." Hachiro stood and picked up his practice sword again. "Besides, you're forgetting something important about our land."
"What's that?"
Hachiro's eyes gleamed with something between pride and defiance. "Pegasus may be called the weakest of the five continents, but we've never produced a single Asura-touched warrior. Not one. Do you know why?"
Kaito shook his head.
"Because the people of Pegasus understand something the other lands have forgotten—that true strength isn't about raw power or noble bloodlines. It's about heart. It's about refusing to surrender even when the world tells you you're not good enough." Hachiro raised his practice sword, pointing toward the distant mountains. "Every champion from Gryphon, every sword master from Dragon, every corrupted soul from Naga—they all had power handed to them by birth or circumstance. But the warriors of Pegasus? We earn every victory."
Kaito felt something stir in his chest—not the familiar anxiety about his upcoming ceremony, but something warmer and stronger. Pride, perhaps. Or determination.
"Now," Hachiro continued, "enough philosophy. In six days, we begin the journey to Wind City. The village elders have already begun preparations, and Elder Matsuki will lead our group of candidates. But first, you need to survive the next hour of training."
Kaito groaned but grabbed his own wooden sword. As he stood, movement in the village below caught his eye. A group of young people his age were gathered near the central square, probably discussing their own upcoming journey. Among them, he spotted Yuki Sato, whose fire abilities had manifested early and burned brighter than anyone else's in their generation, and Ren Takeshi, whose wind powers let him leap between rooftops like a bird.
They would all make the journey together—the powered and unpowered alike, all equal in the eyes of the Soul Tree until the moment of testing arrived.
"Grandfather," Kaito said suddenly, "after the ceremony… after I get my power… I want to enter the village tournament."
Hachiro paused, studying his grandson's face. "The path to the Crown of the Sea is long and treacherous, Kaito. From village tournament to city tournament, then to the land tournament of Pegasus itself, and finally to Poseidon where the greatest warriors in the world gather. Many who begin that journey never return home."
"I know." Kaito's grip tightened on his sword. "But I won't know what I'm capable of until I try. And maybe… maybe someone from Pegasus can go further than anyone expects."
A slow smile spread across Hachiro's weathered features. "Now that," he said, raising his practice sword, "sounds like the grandson I trained. But first, let's see if you can actually land a hit on this old man."
Kaito grinned and settled into his fighting stance, the morning sun climbing higher above Sky Village as the sounds of daily life drifted up from below. In six days, they would begin the journey to Wind City. In six days, everything would change.
But for now, there was only the dance of wooden swords, the patient wisdom of a grandfather who believed in the strength of an unpowered boy's heart, and the fierce pride of Pegasus that refused to bow before any other land.
The training session continued as merchants began calling out their wares in the square below and children chased each other between the terraced houses. Neither Kaito nor Hachiro knew that far beneath the ocean floor, ancient powers stirred, sensing the approach of ceremonies across all five continents. The next Crown of the Sea tournament was still years away, but already, the pieces that would shape its outcome were beginning to move.
In Wind City, the great Soul Tree swayed in breezes that had blown across Pegasus land for millennia, its silver bark gleaming with an inner light that spoke of mysteries older than any kingdom. Soon, it would pass judgment on another generation of hopeful souls.
And in the depths below, patient and eternal, the Asura watched and waited for those who might falter under that ancient gaze