Strength Begins at the Bottom
The training ground soon discovered that peace was a temporary condition.
The steady rhythm of claws striking wood echoed through one corner of Luminel's domain, accompanied by the occasional crack of elemental energy and the considerably more frequent complaints of whichever unfortunate Aetherkin had just received criticism from one of the enchanted training dummies. A neat row of the wooden constructs stood along the edge of the field, each carved with glowing symbols that measured force, angle, balance and accuracy with the relentless honesty of a teacher who had never learned the value of tact. Every impact caused numbers to flicker across their chests before a crisp mechanical voice announced exactly what had gone wrong.
"Impact strength: sixty-two percent. Form deviation: left-leaning. Recommendation: greater torso rotation before impact."
Alex stepped back from his dummy.
The small Ice-type wolf looked deeply offended.
His bluish-white pelt shifted around his yellow-skinned body as he straightened with as much dignity as one could reasonably maintain while panting. His maroon eyes narrowed at the wooden target as though it had personally insulted his ancestry.
Renji stood nearby with his arms folded.
"Sixty-two."
"I heard it."
"Just checking."
"I assure you, Renji, my hearing has survived the humiliation."
Renji's mouth twitched.
Alex planted his purple claws firmly into the ground, lowered his horn and inhaled. Frost gathered around his jaws.
A stream of icy breath struck the centre of the dummy.
Ice spread instantly across its wooden chest.
The entire construct rocked backward.
Numbers flashed.
"Impact strength: sixty-eight percent. Accuracy: eighty-four percent. Progress detected."
Alex lifted his chin.
"Better."
Renji allowed himself a faint smile.
"Still not seventy-five."
Alex turned slowly.
"Must you ruin every moment of satisfaction?"
"That's what partners are for."
"How fortunate I am."
Despite the complaint, Alex turned back toward the dummy. His tail flicked once beneath the pelt fashioned after the much larger Frostfang form he could eventually become.
"Again."
A few metres away, Daichi was experiencing a rather different relationship with training.
"Clark."
The white, furry Water-type Aetherkin looked up at him with enormous green eyes and his permanent W-shaped smile.
"Yes?"
"Use your claws."
Clark's orange-red mane fluttered in the breeze.
"I was going to."
"No headbutting."
Clark's smile widened.
"I wasn't going to."
Daichi narrowed his eyes.
"You were leaning forward."
"I like leaning."
"Clark."
"Fine."
Daichi adjusted his glasses and pointed toward the dummy.
"Claws. You have extremely large claws. Luminel specifically said we need to learn how to use what we're naturally good at."
Clark looked down at his black claws.
Then back at the wooden dummy.
Then he charged.
Daichi's eyes widened.
"Clark—"
THUNK.
Clark struck the dummy directly with his forehead.
The wooden construct barely moved.
There was a brief pause.
Then:
"Impact strength: thirty-nine percent. Severe inefficiency detected. Recommendation: utilize available appendages rather than skull."
Renji laughed.
Daichi closed his eyes.
"Thank you."
Clark staggered backward, rubbing his forehead with both paws.
"I thought it would be stronger."
"I specifically told you it wouldn't be."
"It felt strong before I did it."
"That isn't how physics works."
Clark grinned.
"I learned something."
"Yes. Listen to me."
"That's a very specific interpretation."
Alex, despite his exhaustion, gave Clark the sort of look one might reserve for someone who had arrived at a formal dinner wearing a cooking pot as a hat.
"One cannot help wondering why evolution granted you claws if you intend to fight primarily with your forehead."
Clark gasped.
"Alex. Are you making fun of me?"
"Certainly not."
"You are."
"I would never."
Renji glanced at Daichi.
"He absolutely is."
Daichi sighed, though the corner of his mouth had begun to lift.
Clark bounced back into position.
"Fine! Claws this time."
He rushed forward again, twisted his broad body and slashed.
SWISH—THUD.
The dummy rocked noticeably farther.
"Impact strength: forty-seven percent. Improved technique. Continue."
Clark's ears shot upward.
"Forty-seven!"
Daichi's face brightened despite himself.
"See? That's what I was talking about."
Clark proudly inspected his claws.
"My claws are amazing."
"You've had them this entire time."
"I appreciate them more now."
Daichi shook his head.
Then his expression softened.
"I'm just trying to make sure we're useful."
Renji looked toward him.
Daichi adjusted his glasses again.
"I'm sixteen. I'm the oldest one here. I should be doing more than panicking every time something horrible appears."
Clark's smile faded slightly.
Renji shrugged.
"Being older doesn't automatically make you the leader."
Daichi glanced at him.
"Helpful."
"I mean it."
Renji looked toward the others scattered across the training field.
"You show up. You think about everyone. You worry enough for the entire group."
"That doesn't sound complimentary."
"It wasn't entirely."
Alex nodded solemnly.
"A fair assessment."
Renji continued before Daichi could complain.
"But you're here."
He pointed toward Clark.
"You're training him instead of hiding somewhere hoping Caelan handles everything."
Daichi was quiet.
"That matters."
Clark looked at him.
"I think you do pretty well."
Daichi smiled faintly.
"Thanks."
Clark bounced in place.
"Can I headbutt the dummy again now?"
"No."
"Worth asking."
On another section of the field, Flora stood inside a circular defensive arena while Airi watched from beyond a transparent barrier. The small Plant-type Aetherkin looked considerably less suited to violence than many of the creatures around her. She was green and softly rounded, with broad root-like feet and leafy hands whose three vine-like fingers ended in purple tips. The flower growing from the top of her head bobbed gently whenever she moved. Nothing about her suggested someone eager to be struck repeatedly by enchanted projectiles.
Unfortunately, the training arena appeared unconcerned with appearances.
A glowing orb floated over the centre of the platform.
"DEFENSIVE TRAINING. LEVEL ONE. BEGIN."
Flora drew a careful breath.
A section of the wall opened.
A wooden training construct raised one arm.
Energy gathered.
Airi gripped the railing.
"Ready?"
Flora nodded.
The bolt fired.
"Now!"
Flora's hands extended.
Her purple-tipped vines lengthened with startling speed, but rather than trying to catch the attack directly, roots erupted from the floor in front of her, twisting together into a thick wooden barrier.
The bolt struck.
BOOM.
The roots shuddered.
Flora slid backward half a step.
But the attack stopped.
Airi clapped.
"You did it!"
Flora smiled shyly.
"I did."
The arena chimed.
"Effective defense. Threat mitigation: ninety-two percent. Progression recommended."
Airi's excitement lasted approximately three seconds.
The platform began to rotate.
"Oh."
Flora looked down.
"Oh dear."
Two sections of the surrounding wall opened.
"LEVEL TWO. DUAL ATTACK SEQUENCE."
One dummy fired a heated energy bolt.
The second launched a compressed blade of air.
Flora turned.
Roots surged upward toward the first attack.
Her other hand stretched toward the second.
Thorns erupted from the extended vine.
The heated bolt struck the root wall.
Blocked.
But Flora had misjudged the wind blade.
"Airi—"
"Flora!"
The blade clipped her side.
She spun and fell.
Airi rushed toward the barrier.
"Flora!"
The field prevented her from entering.
Flora slowly pushed herself upright.
One leafy hand touched the bruise along her side.
"I'm all right."
Airi's palms pressed against the barrier.
"You don't have to keep going."
Flora looked toward her.
Her voice remained gentle.
Soft.
Almost apologetic.
But there was no hesitation in it.
"I do."
Airi stopped.
Flora lowered her hand.
"You protect me too."
Airi blinked.
"In every battle, you worry about me."
Flora's flower shifted as she straightened.
"I want to become someone you don't have to worry about all the time."
Airi's throat tightened.
Flora smiled.
"And I want to protect everyone else."
Airi stared at her for several seconds.
Then slowly nodded.
"All right."
She placed one hand against her chest.
"But we're doing this properly."
Flora nodded.
"No getting yourself smashed because you think being brave means standing still."
A tiny smile appeared.
"I'll try."
The arena reset.
"LEVEL TWO RESTARTING. RANDOMIZED ATTACK PATTERN."
Flora took position.
This time when the first two attacks came, she did not simply stand and block.
Roots erupted diagonally, redirecting one bolt.
Her left arm extended.
A thorn-covered vine struck the second projectile from the side, knocking it off course.
She pivoted.
The rotating platform tried to pull her balance away.
Her root-like feet gripped the surface.
A third shot came low.
Flora ducked.
A fourth grazed one shoulder.
But she stayed upright.
"Defense score: seventy-three percent. Threat partially neutralized. Continue."
Airi smiled.
"That's it!"
Flora's eyes sharpened.
"We can do better."
"We will."
And the arena continued turning.
Elsewhere, the accuracy range had become considerably more complicated than Shun had expected, which naturally meant he was delighted.
Tesla stood beside him, four arms slightly spread while his green eyes tracked the glowing targets floating above the field. His yellow antennae twitched continuously, and faint electricity jumped between the grey talons on his upper pair of arms. Unlike most of the others, Tesla had listened to every word Shun said about predictive movement, angles and response timing without once developing the glazed expression everyone else tended to acquire after the first thirty seconds.
Yuto stood beside them with Michael hovering protectively near his shoulder.
The little Light-type Aetherkin looked almost comically harmless. His orange head and back contrasted with the cream colouring underneath, while the broad bat-like structures that served as both wings and ears flapped gently enough to keep his guinea-pig-like body in the air. His light-blue eyes remained fixed on the targets.
Shun adjusted his Linker.
"These are evasive targets. Their movement won't repeat."
Tesla studied them.
"So reacting to their present position is inefficient."
Shun's face lit up.
"Exactly."
Yuto looked between them.
"You two really do understand each other."
Tesla glanced at him.
"Why wouldn't we?"
Yuto shrugged.
"Most people stop understanding Shun after a while."
Shun looked offended.
Michael gave a tiny apologetic smile.
"He talks very quickly."
"Thank you, Michael."
"That wasn't necessarily a compliment," Tesla said.
A mechanical voice interrupted them.
"ACCURACY SIMULATION. LEVEL ONE."
Six glowing targets appeared.
They moved slowly through the air.
"BEGIN."
Shun pointed.
"Tesla. Lead the target."
Tesla's antennae lowered.
Electricity crackled between his claws.
He waited.
Fired.
A sharp bolt crossed the range and struck the first target precisely where it was moving rather than where it had been.
It shattered.
"Perfect."
Tesla looked pleased.
"I estimated the displacement."
Shun immediately began checking numbers.
"Your predictive angle was nearly exact."
Yuto looked at Michael.
"Want to try?"
Michael nodded.
A target drifted left.
He inhaled.
A compressed bubble of air formed before his mouth.
He waited.
Then released it.
The sphere flew across the field and struck the target with enough force to send it spinning into another one.
Both broke apart.
Shun stared.
Tesla stared.
Yuto's eyes widened.
Michael blinked.
"Was I supposed to hit only one?"
Shun slowly looked down at his readings.
"Technically."
Michael lowered his ears.
"Sorry."
Yuto immediately patted him.
"You got two!"
Michael brightened.
The targets accelerated.
Shun returned his attention to Tesla.
"Watch the arc. Don't follow the current position. Estimate where it will be after discharge travel time."
"I understand."
Tesla fired.
The target changed direction.
The bolt missed.
Tesla clicked his mandibles in irritation.
"Incorrect assumption."
"Useful incorrect assumption," Shun said immediately. "Now we know the movement can change after firing."
Tesla nodded.
"Then next attempt I compensate for probable evasion."
Yuto stared.
"You two make missing sound complicated."
Michael whispered:
"I think they enjoy it."
Yuto giggled.
"LEVEL ONE COMPLETE. LEVEL TWO COMMENCING."
The targets divided.
Twelve smaller lights shot outward.
Their paths became erratic.
Tesla fired twice.
One electrical bolt struck cleanly.
The second missed by centimetres.
"Nine-degree correction," Shun said.
"Twelve," Tesla replied immediately.
Shun checked.
"You're right."
Tesla's wings buzzed smugly.
Beside them, Michael waited.
Yuto rested one hand gently against his head.
"Don't rush."
Michael nodded.
One target swept upward.
Then suddenly dropped.
Michael waited just a fraction longer.
A gust of compressed wind burst from his wings.
The moving disc shattered.
Yuto jumped.
"Yes!"
Michael smiled.
Another target came from the opposite direction.
He missed.
His ears drooped.
Yuto simply shook his head.
"It's okay."
Michael looked toward him.
"We keep going."
The little Aetherkin's expression softened.
"Always."
Tesla glanced over.
"Sound principle."
Shun nodded.
"Statistically unavoidable, too. Accuracy improves through repeated—"
Yuto laughed.
"I know, Shun."
Shun stopped.
"You do?"
"No."
Tesla made a clicking sound suspiciously similar to laughter.
From a grassy rise overlooking the different training fields, Caelan sat with one knee raised and watched.
Alex repeatedly assaulted the strength dummy with increasingly refined combinations of claws, horn and ice. Clark had finally accepted that possessing large claws created certain expectations about using them. Flora was learning that defence did not necessarily mean absorbing an attack head-on. Tesla and Shun were somehow turning target practice into a technical conference, while Michael's deceptively gentle appearance continued to conceal a rather startling amount of natural power. Somewhere beyond the trees, Haruto and Ryu were still inside Luminel's cave. Sakura was resting after losing rather decisively to Level Two and had already begun glaring at the reflex arena as though planning a personal vendetta.
Everyone was improving.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Which was generally how improvement worked.
Sparky sat beside Caelan, watching too.
"Luminel said strengthening the Juvenile form makes later evolutions stronger."
Caelan nodded.
"That makes sense."
"Why?"
"A stronger foundation supports more."
Sparky looked at him.
Caelan lifted one hand.
"Cultivation works the same way. Rush the foundation and you pay for it later."
Sparky glanced toward the training fields.
"So what am I doing?"
Caelan looked at him.
"Defence."
Sparky's ears dropped.
"I thought you were training me."
"I am."
"By sending me somewhere else?"
"That is training."
Sparky looked suspicious.
Caelan continued.
"You've survived mostly by running, hiding or throwing electricity."
"My electricity is good."
"It is."
Sparky brightened.
"You also have almost no idea what to do when someone gets through it."
Sparky's expression fell again.
"Oh."
"Go learn."
"Which defence course?"
Caelan pointed toward Flora's arena.
Sparky saw one of the training projectiles strike a barrier hard enough to explode.
He slowly turned back.
"That one?"
"Yes."
"Those hurt."
"Probably."
Sparky stared at him.
"You said training gets unpleasant."
"I remember."
"I thought you were exaggerating."
"I wasn't."
Sparky hopped down from the hill.
Then stopped.
"You're coming later, right?"
Caelan nodded.
"I promised I'd train you. I'm not getting out of it that easily."
Sparky grinned.
"Good."
He scampered away.
Caelan watched until he reached Airi and Flora.
Then he looked back over the field.
For a moment, he remained still.
There was something increasingly strange about all of this.
Luminel had spoken repeatedly about Juvenile Aetherkin becoming stronger before evolution. About foundations determining what came afterward. About partners changing through resonance.
The Resonance Linker insisted Caelan himself was an Aetherkin.
Juvenile. Legendary.
Yet Caelan still felt human.
He cultivated like a human.
His meridians worked.
His dantian worked.
His ki responded exactly as it should.
Nothing about him felt like some newborn creature made from an echo of another world's legend.
And there was something else he had avoided thinking about since arriving.
Something far harder to explain away.
Caelan lowered his gaze to his hands.
Then closed his eyes.
His breathing slowed.
The noises of the training grounds faded.
Wind.
Voices.
Impacts.
The crackle of Tesla's electricity.
One by one they receded as Caelan turned his awareness inward.
He had done this before.
Countless times.
The landscape within his soul should have been impossible to mistake.
Mountains.
Formations.
Ancient bindings layered upon one another with such complexity that even after years of seeing them, Caelan understood only fragments of what his mother had constructed.
And in their centre—
Zarathiel.
The Sovereign of Destiny.
The One Who Knows.
The thing sealed into Caelan's soul since infancy.
Caelan descended.
Darkness surrounded him.
Then the familiar mountains appeared.
His eyes opened.
For one brief moment, relief moved through him.
Then it died.
Something was wrong.
The mountains were there.
The formation markings stretched across them.
Great chains descended from every direction, the same chains that had always bound the creature so completely that Caelan had never once seen what truly lay beneath them.
Except now—
They bound nothing.
Caelan stopped.
The chains lay across empty ground.
Some hung motionless in the darkness.
Others disappeared into the formation without ever wrapping around a body.
There was no vast presence.
No pressure.
No voice.
No cold sensation of being watched by something that saw possibilities the way ordinary people saw roads.
Nothing.
Caelan stared.
"Zarathiel?"
His voice crossed the soul-space.
No reply.
That was not entirely unusual.
Zarathiel did not always answer.
Caelan stepped closer.
"Zarathiel."
Silence.
He reached the edge of the formation.
The chains remained.
The seal remained.
The prisoner did not.
Caelan's breathing changed.
"No."
He moved around the binding.
Perhaps some section had shifted.
Perhaps the seal had changed.
Perhaps—
No.
He knew this place.
Zarathiel was gone.
Completely.
Caelan stood motionless.
The realization did not make sense.
Zarathiel had not been sealed inside his body like an object placed in a box.
He had been sealed into Caelan's soul.
His mother had built the formation.
His father had paid for it with his own soul.
The binding was part of Caelan.
Removing Zarathiel without tearing through the seal should have been impossible.
And Caelan had felt none of it.
No attack.
No rupture.
No escape.
Nothing.
His thoughts raced.
Had someone removed Zarathiel before bringing him here?
Impossible.
A Sage might have transported Caelan through the Heavenly Flame Sect's protections if they possessed the right access.
But touching this seal was another matter entirely.
His father had been Dao Ascension.
His mother a Sage and a formation master.
Zarathiel itself had been something vastly worse.
No one simply reached inside and removed him.
Caelan looked again at the empty chains.
A colder possibility formed.
One he did not like.
One he immediately tried to dismiss.
But once the thought existed, it refused to leave.
The seal was tied to his soul.
Zarathiel was tied to his soul.
If the connection had truly been broken without the seal being opened...
Caelan's face slowly lost its colour.
There was one circumstance in which the bond between a sealed being and its vessel could end completely.
If the vessel died.
Caelan sank to one knee.
"No."
The empty soul-space gave him nothing back.
His hands tightened.
He remembered Han Shuren.
Lin Rue.
Chen Hao.
The Sect Head.
His palace.
His home.
Everyone who would be waiting for him.
Everyone who might already believe something terrible had happened.
Caelan stared at the vacant place where Zarathiel should have been.
The thought struck harder the second time.
Did I die?