Nathaniel finally stumbled back into the familiar walls of his home, each step heavy with exhaustion and lingering pain. His body still throbbed from the relentless battle against the old man the previous day, every muscle screaming reminders of blows that had shattered trees and sent him flying. His chest ached with bruised ribs, his arms carried faint cuts, and the faint sting of sweat and blood clung to him.
As soon as he entered, Eddy was there, arms crossed, his eyes scanning Nathaniel with a mixture of concern and quiet calculation. The older man's usual calm composure seemed slightly strained, a flicker of worry visible in the subtle lines of his face.
Nathaniel wasted no time. With a grunt of fatigue, he collapsed onto the couch, leaning back heavily. He recounted everything, his words tumbling out in a breathless torrent—every detail of the old man, the single strike that had sent him plowing through the forest, the surreal ease with which the elder had deflected even his strongest attacks. He pulled his shirt aside to show the faint bruise blooming across his ribs, a silent testament to the old man's devastating power.
Eddy examined the mark carefully, frowning. His finger traced the outline lightly. "This… this isn't normal," he muttered. "Your body usually shrugs off blows that could crush mountains. But that? That strike ignored everything, Nathan. It went straight through your defenses, your resilience, your enhanced barriers. Be thankful he held back."
Nathaniel's eyes widened. "You mean… he could have—?"
"Yes," Eddy interrupted firmly, voice steady and unwavering. "He could have ended you instantly. The fact that he didn't… that means something. Either he had no interest in killing you, or he saw something inside you worth sparing."
Pride flared in Nathaniel's chest, only to be immediately tempered by frustration. "But… I fought with everything I had! If I'd used Online Smash—"
Eddy's palm slammed against the table with a force that made Nathaniel flinch. "You fool! If you'd unleashed that, you'd be nothing more than dust before the attack even formed. Listen carefully: if you meet that old man again, do not fight him. You bow, you ask to become his disciple. That is the only path to survive and grow under someone like him."
Nathaniel's hands shot into the air, shaking as he rose. "No! Never! I refuse!" His voice cracked with stubborn rage, eyes blazing with defiance. "I will not beg a wrinkled old man for power! I will surpass him on my own!" With that, he stormed to his room, slamming the door behind him.
Alone, he paced restlessly, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. Thorn's voice emerged in his mind, calm and unwavering.
Nathaniel, Eddy is right. His strength is on another level. If you become his disciple, your growth will accelerate beyond imagination.
"No," Nathaniel muttered, lying down on his bed, jaw tight, eyes staring at the ceiling. "I don't need him. I'll do it myself." He buried himself under the blanket, though his mind refused the comfort of sleep. Even as the shadows of slumber crept close, Thorn's voice whispered one last warning:
Your stubbornness may cost you one day, young master. Think carefully.
Nathaniel ignored him, drifting into a restless, uneasy slumber.
---
Far away, in a secluded valley untouched by ordinary civilization, the old man sat cross-legged beneath the gnarled branches of an ancient tree. His white beard cascaded over his chest, long and untamed, his robes blending almost seamlessly with the shadows of the valley. Beside him stood a towering humanoid lizard, scales jade-green, eyes sharp and calculating, his posture alert yet patient.
"So?" the lizard asked in a low, gravelly voice. "Is the boy strong?"
The old man's fingers brushed his beard, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Strong, yes. For his age, he surpasses what his father once was. But…" The smile faded, replaced by a grim, calculating look. "He is reckless. Impulsive. His arrogance blinds him. And worse… I sensed something hidden within him. Something sealed, buried deep."
The lizard's eyes narrowed. "Sealed? What kind of thing?"
The old man shook his head slowly, gaze fixed on the night sky. "Something that should never awaken. If I am wrong, then all is well. But if I am right… then he carries a burden that may one day consume him entirely."
"And what will you do?" the lizard pressed, unease evident in his tone.
"What I must," the old man replied calmly. "I will remain vigilant. As long as I am here, I will ensure that this latent power does not awaken prematurely. Should it stir, I will silence it."
The lizard said nothing further, only lowered his head in understanding.
---
The next morning, Nathaniel rose before the sun, restless energy burning through every vein. His body still ached, but he threw himself into training with unwavering fervor. The riverbank became his arena, the air vibrating with each slash of his sword and the pounding rhythm of his feet against the earth. Each motion was an attempt to erase the sting of his humiliation, to rebuild his confidence piece by piece.
As he swung with fierce determination, a presence settled over him. He froze, senses alert, and glanced upward. There, perched high on a tree branch, was the old man again, silently observing.
Nathaniel's eyes narrowed. "Why are you here? Are you spying on me?"
The old man's brow lifted in faint amusement. "I am watching the river, not you."
"Then why look in my direction?" Nathaniel pressed.
"The direction," the old man said softly, "is only a concept. I gaze at the horizon, not at you."
Nathaniel opened his mouth to argue but found no words. Clenching his fists, he turned to the river, determined to continue his training.
He hurled energy blasts across the river, aiming at a cluster of rocks far away—over a kilometer and a half distant. Each attack fell short, splashing harmlessly into the water.
From his perch, the old man's voice carried faintly on the wind. "You lack precision. Your stance is flawed. Anchor your body. Focus your mind completely on the target, then release."
Nathaniel growled under his breath. "Nonsense." Yet, determined to prove the old man wrong, he re-positioned, planted his feet firmly, and concentrated. The next blast soared forward with perfect trajectory, obliterating the rock cluster with a resonant crash.
A spark of triumph lit Nathaniel's eyes. "Yesss! I did it!" he shouted, leaping into the air. But he quickly masked his joy, approaching the old man with a scowl. "It's only because I'm too strong. But… thanks, you useless old man."
The elder dropped silently to the ground, landing with no sound, no disturbance—gravity itself seeming to bend around him. Nathaniel's jaw tightened. He was impressed, but pride forbade him from showing it.
"What do you want from me?" Nathaniel demanded, fists clenched.
"Nothing," the old man replied simply.
"Then who are you?"
"No one."
"Why didn't you kill me last time?"
"Because I don't kill the weak," the old man said, his eyes cold and unwavering.
Nathaniel froze, pride stinging anew. He forced calm into his voice. "I wasn't fighting seriously. If I had used my full power—"
"Then show me," the old man cut him off, voice sharp as a blade.
Nathaniel hesitated. He could feel the truth of the statement deep in his chest: even his full power would achieve little here. "No. I have better things to do. But… thank you for your teaching."
The old man turned and walked away, voice faint on the wind: "Arrogant child."
---
The following day, fate drew them together again. As always, sparks of tension ignited when their eyes met.
"You again? Don't you have better things to do?" Nathaniel barked.
The old man smirked faintly. "Perhaps I am drawn to foolish boys who overestimate themselves."
They argued, teased, and sparred verbally until Nathaniel's pride finally cracked. Taking a deep breath, he blurted, "Old man… will you train me?"
The silence that followed felt almost oppressive.
The old man tilted his head, gaze piercing. "Why?"
"Because I want to become stronger. To surpass my limits. To be better than I am now."
"That is not an answer."
Nathaniel's eyes blazed. "Then here's the truth. I want strength to protect those I love. And… I want to avenge my mother."
The old man's expression darkened. "Revenge is poison. Are you prepared to bear the weight of such a path?"
Nathaniel's voice did not waver. "Yes."
For a long moment, the old man studied him, silence stretching between them like a taut wire. Finally, he spoke: "Very well. I will give you my answer tomorrow."
Without another word, he disappeared toward the horizon, leaving Nathaniel standing alone