Hanjun's eyes lit up at the mention of ice.
Barn then turned his dark, piercing gaze toward the silver-haired kid.
"Now, for you. The fire-user. Tell me exactly what happened when you first triggered your element."
"Well, at the very beginning, it was like a cool green light,"
the silver-haired boy said, scratching his head.
"But then, when that guard tried to drown him, I don't know how I felt but I killed the guy, and the energy changed into this crazy, violent vine-like thing that tore through the stone. After that, the green completely vanished. Now, every time I try to pull it up, it's just orange fire. No more vines."
Barn's brow furrowed, a deep, knowing look passing through his weathered eyes.
"I don't know what you're talking about but The fire is your rage. Fire doesn't care about logic. It wants to consume. We start with basic application. Mutual benefit. You train your focus, and I get a garden. I want you to clench your hand like a sword, focus your fire around your fist, and dig straight into that square spot I made. Thrust your hand into the dirt, move forward, and carve a clean trench. It will help you learn how to cut, thrust, or penetrate through absolutely anything. If your focus drops, the dirt will smother your flame."
Hanjun dropped into a stance.
Fwump!
An orange flame erupted around his right fist.
He squeezed his fingers together, trying to shape it like a blade, and drove his hand straight down into the hard ground.
"Now you, water-boy,"
Barn directed.
"Take these fruit seeds. Use your water to lift a small orb from the bucket, hold the seeds perfectly inside the water with steady concentration, and put them inside the holes he digs. One by one."
Three weeks turned into months, and the months bled seamlessly into a steady, rigorous routine. The windowless stone house finally underwent a transformation; Barn had traded several sacks of early-harvest root vegetables to a traveling merchant for thick glass panes.
Now, clean windows sat on the front wall, letting the warm morning light flood into the cottage.
The garden had become a masterpiece of strategic training.
Every single day, the boys were out in the field, working in the dirt.
But they weren't just doing chores; they were sharpening their weapons.
Sometimes, the fire training moved inside the kitchen, and it didn't always go smoothly.
"Hanjun! The stove is losing temperature!"
Elena's voice would echo from the kitchen.
The silver-haired boy would shuffle inside, extending his hand beneath the iron pot to ignite a low simmer.
But being a bit of a dumb kid, his concentration would waver, and the flame would suddenly burst too hot, nearly singeing the bottom of the pan.
"Ow! No, stupid! That's way too hot!"
Elena would yell playfully.
She would instantly reach over, grabbing his ear and pulling it firmly but playfully until he winced.
"You're going to burn the garlic! Lower it to a gentle spark!"
It was a brutal test of micro-management, forcing his fire to remain at a steady, domestic heat.
Down by the creek, the blue-haired boy was handling the household chores. He stood before a massive wooden tub filled with dirty linen. Instead of using a washboard, he extended his arms, his mind calm and focused.
The water inside the tub rose up, forming a violently rotating vortex that washed the clothes with immense kinetic force before expelling the soiled fluid into the grass in a single, neat stream.
Sometimes, during the long afternoons, a the young boy and his older sister from back then when they arrived to the village' the boy is named Tom and his older sister Tarra, would walk up the path to watch them work. The 17 years old Tarra would carry a woven basket, chatting with Elena about market prices, while 8 year old Tom would stand near the edge of the fence, his wide eyes completely glued to the silver-haired boy.
Whenever Hanjun dropped into a stance to practice his thrusts, Tom would immediately mimic him.
The little boy would pull his tiny fists back, stomp his foot into the grass, and let out a small
"Ha!"
as he punched the air. Hanjun didn't really show emotions to anyone, but he seemed to hang out a lot with Tom, letting the kid follow him around like a shadow.
One evening, Barn stood up and stretched his massive arms.
"Water-boy, come with me. We're going up to the ridge to meditate. The mountain air is still. It'll help you sink your core into the deep current."
Jayhon nodded eagerly.
Hanjun, out of pure habit, began to follow them out the door, with little Tom trailing right behind him.
Barn stopped at the trail head, looking back over his shoulder with a smirk.
"What are you following us for? Fire users are not the type that meditate well. They probably do somewhere, but I just can't imagine them doing it. You guys are too impatient. Demonstrating your power through raw physical impact is more liked than meditation for most of the fire users I've seen in my life."
Hanjun rolled his eyes, looking completely annoyed.
"Yeah, whatever. I don't need your pathetic meditational Techniques anyway. It sounds completely boring."
He turned around, looking down at the 8 year old Tom standing behind him.
"Hey, kid. Let's go do fun stuffbwhile they do their boring things."
Tom's face lit up with pure joy. He nodded vigorously, jumping up and down.
"Yeah! We do fun things!"
And then moments later Elena pulls them inside the house for work.
Three years passed over the valley like a quiet river.
The small stone house by the field had grown into a thriving landmark right outside the kingdom walls.
The barren clay spot was now a massive, lush garden overflowing with sweet fruits and vegetables that people actively bought from them.
Tarra and Tom would help Elena with selling most of the time, packing the baskets for the merchants.
Tom was eleven now, having grown quite a bit, but he still spent almost every spare hour hanging around Hanjun. Hanjun and Jayhon were sixteen now.
Jayhon had grown fond of Barn and Elena, carrying himself with a steady, calm demeanor.
Hanjun still didn't show emotions to anyone, maintaining his blunt, slightly dumb human attitude, but he and Tom were practically inseparable.
One bright morning, Barn stood in the center of the garden, his hands resting on his hips.
He looked at Hanjun and Jayhon, his weathered face unusually serious.
"There's no more I can teach you kids,"
Barn said, his deep bass rattling the fence posts.