Lucian stood at the center of the dimly lit chapel, the wooden training sword in his hands feeling almost weightless. His breath was steady, his stance firm—yet when Aldric observed him, there was only quiet disapproval in his gaze.

  “You are quick, sharp. Your instincts are beyond natural,” the priest said, pacing around him. “But you are like a house built on sand—unstable, unreliable. Power without a foundation is nothing.”

  Lucian furrowed his brow. “Then what must I do?”

  Aldric tapped his staff against the stone floor, his voice steady but unwavering. “You must strengthen your Ascen.”

  Lucian frowned. “Ascen?”

  “The core of all strength,” Aldric explained. “It is not just muscle, not just balance—it is the center of your existence, the anchor that allows mind and body to move as one. Without control over your Ascen, your instincts will betray you. Your speed will falter. Your strength will never reach its full potential.”

  Lucian clenched his fists. He understood the problem. He could react, he could move, but it was hollow—his body was too weak to follow through with what his instincts demanded.

  Aldric continued. “Every warrior, every fighter, must build their Ascen from the ground up. If you cannot control it, you will never reach beyond the limits of a mere human.”

  Lucian felt a chill crawl down his spine. “Beyond?”

  Aldric paused. His grip on the staff tightened slightly. “It is not yet time for you to learn what lies deeper.” His voice lowered. “But within every Ascen… lies something more. Something that even the greatest warriors fear.”

  Lucian’s breath hitched. He could sense it—this was something important. Something dangerous.

  Aldric’s eyes locked onto his. “They are called Relicarns. And until you have mastered yourself, you have no right to seek them.”

  Lucian opened his mouth to press further, but Aldric cut him off. “For now, your concern is simple: forge your Ascen. Build your body. Until you can stand firm, control your breath, and endure the weight of battle, you are nothing more than a shadow of a warrior.”

  Lucian took a deep breath and nodded. He did not fully understand, but he knew what he had to do.

  His journey began here. Not with a sword, not with a fight—but with his own body.

  Aldric wasted no time. Lucian’s days became filled with relentless conditioning—grueling stances, balance drills, endurance training.

  At first, his body failed him. His legs burned, his arms trembled, his lungs screamed for relief. He collapsed, over and over.

  But each time, he rose again.

  And as the days passed, something began to change. His body adapted. His breathing grew steadier. His strikes carried more force. His movements no longer fought against his instincts—they flowed with them.

  The foundation of his Ascen was being forged. And though the path ahead was long, one thing was certain:

  One day, he would awaken what lay within.

  ------------------------------------------

  Lucian groaned as he collapsed onto the stone floor of the chapel’s courtyard, his limbs burning from exhaustion. Above him, Father Aldric loomed, grinning like a mischievous grandfather who had just played a prank.

  “Ah, to be young again! Well, not too young. I much prefer watching you suffer.” The old priest chuckled as he tapped Lucian’s ribs lightly with his staff. “Come on, up you go! The ground isn’t as comfortable as a bed, no matter how much you pretend.”

  Lucian groaned again. “I can’t move.”

  “Of course, you can! Your body just hates you right now.” Aldric gave him a hearty pat on the back, which did nothing to help. “That means we’re making progress!”

  Lucian rolled onto his side, glaring at the priest. “Progress in what? Dying?”

  Aldric laughed, stroking his beard. “No, no, dying is easy. We’re making you strong. And to do that, we need to forge your Ascen.”

  Lucian frowned, sitting up with difficulty. “Ascen… you’ve mentioned that before.”

  “Because it’s important!” Aldric tapped his chest. “It’s the core of all strength. It holds you together, lets you move with true power, keeps you from tripping over your own feet like a newborn deer.”

  Lucian crossed his arms. “And how do I strengthen it?”

  Aldric beamed. “I was hoping you’d ask that! Now, let’s get back to work."

  Lucian stood in a deep horse stance, his thighs burning as Aldric piled stone slabs onto his shoulders. First one, then two, then three. His muscles screamed, but he gritted his teeth, sweat pouring down his face.

  “Breathe, boy! If you let pain control you, your Ascen will never grow. Pain is fuel. Learn to burn it!”

  The weight bore down on him, his knees threatening to buckle. But he forced his breath to slow, reaching inward. He could feel it—his Ascen flickering inside him, feeding off the pressure.

  Minutes passed. Then an hour. Lucian's body trembled violently.

  And still, he did not fall.

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  Night fell, and Aldric led Lucian to a lake near the church. The old priest grinned. “Time for my favorite game: Drown or Adapt.”

  Lucian blinked. “What?”

  SPLASH!

  Aldric shoved him into the icy water.

  Lucian thrashed, the cold stealing his breath. He tried to surface, but—

  “Nope!” Aldric’s staff smacked him back under.

  Panic surged through him. He fought to breathe, but the more he struggled, the weaker he became.

  Aldric’s muffled voice reached him from above. “The more you resist, the faster you’ll sink! Your Ascen is the same—it flows with your body, not against it! Find the rhythm!”

  Lucian stopped struggling.

  He listened to the water.

  And then, he breathed.

  Not through his lungs, but through his body. His Ascen hummed, adapting to the stress. His heart slowed. His panic faded.

  When he finally surfaced, gasping, Aldric clapped. “Ah-ha! You didn’t drown! Marvelous! Now, do it again.”

  Lucian groaned.

  At dawn, Lucian stood blindfolded on a fallen log, balancing over a rushing river. The challenge? Avoid Aldric’s attacks.

  “Feel your surroundings,” Aldric coached, his wooden staff tapping the log. “If you only rely on your eyes, you’re already dead.”

  Lucian’s heart pounded. The log was slick, the water below waiting to swallow him.

  Whoosh!

  The staff swung—Lucian dodged too late. A painful smack sent him tumbling into the river.

  Aldric sighed as Lucian dragged himself out. “Disgraceful! Again!”

  Lucian climbed back up.

  Whack! Into the river.

  Again.

  Whack!

  Again.

  Hours passed.

  Lucian stood on the log, soaking wet, bruised, exhausted. But something was different. He felt it before it happened. The shift in the air. The slight change in pressure. The staff swung.

  Lucian moved.

  Not just dodging—flowing.

  The attack missed.

  Aldric chuckled. “Ahhh. There it is.”

  Lucian’s chest rose and fell. He was beginning to understand.

  But there was still one final test. A duel

  ------------------------------------------

  Lucian wiped the sweat from his brow, gripping the wooden training sword in his hands. His muscles ached from days of relentless conditioning, but tonight was different.

  Father Aldric stood before him, rolling his shoulders as he held his own wooden sword with casual ease. His usual jovial expression remained, but there was something sharper in his gaze now—an appraising weight, as though he were truly measuring Lucian for the first time.

  “Well then,” Aldric said, stretching as if he had just woken from a nap. “You’ve been learning control, endurance, and movement. But none of it means anything unless you can apply it in battle.” He grinned. “So! Let’s see if you can land a hit on me.”

  Lucian tightened his grip. “Do I just attack you?”

  Aldric nodded sagely. “Yes! And don’t hold back. A strike without conviction is no strike at all.”

  Lucian hesitated. Aldric was old, after all. What if he—

  WHACK!

  Pain exploded in Lucian’s ribs before he even saw the strike coming.

  He stumbled back, gasping. “What the—!?”

  Aldric smiled. “Oh? Were you thinking about something? I love when my students do that—it makes hitting them so much easier.”

  Lucian gritted his teeth. “I wasn’t ready!”

  Aldric beamed. “Then get ready faster.”

  Lucian charged.

  He swung high—Aldric sidestepped.

  He struck low—Aldric barely moved, letting the sword pass inches from his robe.

  Lucian tried a quick jab—Aldric knocked his wrist aside and ruffled his hair in the same motion.

  Lucian staggered back, panting. His heart pounded, not just from exertion, but from something else—something strange. His instincts were screaming at him, urging him to move, shift, react. And the moment Aldric shifted his weight—

  Lucian’s body moved on its own.

  He barely processed the action before he was already dodging. Aldric’s sword flickered through the air where his ribs had been, missing by the width of a breath.

  Aldric’s eyebrows lifted slightly.

  Lucian seized the moment. He feinted left, pivoted on his heel, and struck from below.

  Aldric actually had to lift his sword to deflect.

  Lucian’s pulse quickened—he had forced a reaction!

  He pressed forward, his attacks growing sharper, more precise. His body moved instinctively, his strikes landing closer and closer. Aldric was still parrying with ease, but he wasn’t playing with Lucian anymore. He was measuring him.

  Then, Lucian went for one last powerful swing—

  And Aldric vanished.

  No, not vanished. Moved. Too fast.

  Before Lucian could react—

  THWACK!

  Lucian crashed onto his back, staring at the sky, his ribs stinging.

  Aldric loomed over him, resting his sword against his shoulder. He let out a small chuckle, his gaze flickering with something other than amusement.

  “Well, well,” he mused. “That was unexpected.”

  Lucian coughed. “You’re… fast.”

  Aldric laughed. “Fast? Oh, my boy, this is nothing. I’m getting old! But you…” His smile lingered, but his eyes sharpened. “You see things. You react faster than most trained warriors. If you had even a little real combat experience, you’d be dangerous.”

  Lucian sat up, rubbing his ribs. “So… what am I missing?”

  Aldric offered him a hand, pulling him to his feet. “Instinct is a blade, but experience sharpens it. You lack the weight behind your movements—the resolve that comes only from battle. The body follows the mind, and right now, yours hesitates when it truly matters.” He patted Lucian’s shoulder. “But that can be fixed.”

  Lucian exhaled slowly. He hadn’t expected praise, but there was no mistaking the approval in Aldric’s tone.

  Aldric grinned. “Now, again! You need to land a proper hit before the night is over.”

  Lucian groaned but lifted his sword. “Fine. But this time, I will hit you.”

  Aldric’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, I’d love to see you try.”

  The duel continued. The master would not go easy, and the student would not back down.

  Lucian suffered. He collapsed in the grass, gasping for air. Aldric loomed over him, hands on his hips.

  “You could give up,” he said, stroking his beard. “There’s always a life of baking. Maybe fishing? Oh! You’d make an excellent cabbage farmer!”

  Lucian groaned. “I hate you.”

  “Good! That means I’m doing my job!” Aldric cackled.

  Lucian glared up at him. “You can’t be this strong just from training like this. Who were you before?”

  Aldric smiled, eyes twinkling. “Ah, now that is a dangerous question.”

  Lucian narrowed his eyes. “So? What’s the answer?”

  Aldric stroked his beard, pretending to think. “Well, I was probably a legendary warrior. Maybe a prince? Or a famous chef? Hard to say. My memory is terrible at my age.”

  Lucian groaned, sitting up. “That’s not an answer.”

  Aldric winked. “It’s the only one you’re getting.”

  Lucian sighed but let it go. If Aldric didn’t want to talk, there was no forcing him.

  ------------------------------------------

  At dawn Aldric led Lucian to a waterfall near the church. The water roared down violently, the mist cool against their skin.

  Lucian stared at it warily. “You’re going to make me sit under that, aren’t you?”

  Aldric beamed. “Oh, you’re catching on fast!”

  Lucian sighed. “Is it safe?”

  “Absolutely not,” Aldric said cheerfully, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “But that’s the fun part.”

  Lucian gave him a look before wading into the water. The moment he sat beneath the falls, the weight slammed into him like a hammer. His body screamed in protest.

  “Breathe, Lucian!” Aldric called from the shore. “If you pass out, I’ll pull you out! Probably!”

  Lucian gritted his teeth and closed his eyes.

  It was impossible. The noise, the force—it drowned out everything. But slowly, slowly, his thoughts calmed.

  He could hear the wind shift through the trees.

  The rustling of leaves.

  The chirp of a distant bird.

  And then—he felt it.

  A flicker inside him. A warmth. His Ascen.

  The moment was fleeting, but real.

  Suddenly, Aldric was there, grinning wide. “Ah-ha! There it is! A baby Ascen, all fresh and new! Congratulations!”

  Lucian met his gaze, heart pounding. “So… what now?”

  Aldric clapped his hands together. “Now we make it bigger! Stronger! More stable! And then… then, you’ll really start learning how to fight.”

  Lucian smirked, his exhaustion forgotten.

  "Let’s do it."