At dawn, before the first rays of the artificial sun could pierce the dome of the zargah, Arshin found himself trapped in the training room. Mirza was there, slouched on a wooden chair, looking like he was half-asleep. The smell of booze and ozone still hung thick in the air.
As Arshin stepped in, Mirza didn't even open his eyes. "You're late," he muttered.
"But I—"
"Shut it." Mirza's eyes snapped open. They were red and tired, but deep down, you could see a bitter, sharp understanding. "Lesson one: your power runs on emotions. Rage. Frustration. Fear. That's the fuel for this blind fire. But the same fuel makes it impossible to control. It's like trying to steer a boiling cauldron with your face glued to it."
He stood up and slid on a weird glove covered in wires and jargan crystals. "You need to learn to separate it from your feelings. Treat it like a tool, not an extension of yourself."
Mirza activated the glove, and a flickering blue energy field sparked around his fist. "Now, try to spark. But this time… not by thinking about what ticks you off. Think… emptiness. Silence."
It felt impossible. For Kaweh, this power came straight from the anger and frustration of his old life, and the fear of this one. Silence? Emptiness? Totally alien.
He tried. Eyes shut. But all he saw were accidents, scornful glances, and the forest's darkness. A weak, irregular blue spark shot from his fingers and vanished instantly.
Mirza moved fast—surprisingly fast for a guy that tired—and hurled his energy-packed fist at him. A pure, sharp electric shock—different from the soft but strong tanesh others had—threw Arshin back, slamming him to the ground. Every muscle tensed, then relaxed. Pain seared through him.
"Wrong!" Mirza shouted, his voice carrying real emotion for the first time: rage. "You're playing with it! This isn't a toy! It's a beast that will swallow you whole if you slip up!"
Arshin/Kaweh gasped on the floor. Blood tasted metallic in his mouth. This pain… felt familiar. Exactly like that shock back at the office.
And in that moment of pain and memory… something clicked. He saw the power not as magic, but as an electric current. A current that needed a circuit, resistance, and a ground.
Mirza attacked again. This time, instinct kicked in. Instead of fear, he focused on the physical concept. He pictured himself as a "resistor." Something to manage the flow, not let it run wild.
When Mirza's fist hit, instead of being thrown back, the blue electricity coiled around his body and grounded with a loud whizz on the room's insulated floor. The pain was still there—intense—but he stayed on his feet, only stepping back a few paces.
For the first time, Mirza's face cracked in surprise. Then, a small, bitter but satisfied smile. "Alright… finally started. That's enough for today. Come back tomorrow. And this time, try to do it without getting beaten up."
Bruised all over, every muscle aching, he trudged through the dining hall. The looks this time were less scornful, more curious… maybe even a little scared. Apparently, word of Mirza's brutal "lessons" had spread.
Paria rushed over, worry written all over her face. "Oh my god, what happened to you?!"
Arina was behind her, eyes wide with fear. "Mirza?… Again?" She seemed to know something.
Arshin could only nod. Talking hurt.
Arina leaned close, whispering, her voice shaking. "Watch him, brother. Mirza… he used to be a master of electricity tanesh. But something happened. In the forest. He lost his wife and kid. People say he went mad… and ever since, he controls his power through pain and rage. He's a wounded beast. Anyone who comes close gets burned."
That explained everything. The ozone and booze smell. The brutality. Mirza was a reflection of a possible future—if Arshin/Kaweh couldn't master this power.
On his way back to the dorm, he passed the massive academy library. Suddenly, his relic warmed in his pocket, sending out a tiny vibration. That faint blue dot on the map… right here, inside the library.
He looked at the towering shelves packed with old scrolls and encased books. The secret was here. Buried in all this knowledge.
But first, he had to survive. He had to learn to control the fire without burning himself or anyone around him. Mirza's lessons were brutal… but valuable.
He returned to his dorm, pain rippling through every move, but his mind clearer than ever. This was a war. A war within himself. And today, he'd won a small first victory.
[System Note: Integration: 65%. Neuromuscular coordination adapting to foreign energy. Pain receptors… calibrated. New Objective: Investigate the library. Understand Mentor's trauma.]