So, three years passed.
Archery practice took up most of my morning. Since I first held a bow, something inside me awakened — an ancient instinct, almost as if that weapon had always belonged to me. I devoted hours, trying to learn everything I could about the art of archery. It wasn't just about strength or technique; it was rhythm, patience, and above all, precision.
The bow... it wasn't just a simple tool of war. It was an extension of the body, a symbol of nobility and supremacy over the battlefield. No other weapon compared to it. There were ancient records about a legendary tribe that had conquered almost the entire continent with nothing but this weapon in their hands. A hundred thousand men. That was the size of their army. And still, with arrows in their hands and iron-clad hooves on their feet, they swept through entire kingdoms, destroying everything in their path. They created the most tyrannical empire that ever existed — and also the shortest. An empire that vanished without clear explanation, as if it had been erased from history by something even more powerful.
Since then, the bow had been feared. It became a symbol of terror. With enough strength and skill, even someone rough or inexperienced could take lives from a distance. That was the true power of the bow: distance. The impossibility of effective defense. How could you stop a fast arrow coming from above or the shadows? It was a weapon that didn't ask permission to kill. It just needed to be drawn and released. No other weapon so effectively transformed the energy and intent of a warrior into lethal force. This idea fascinated me.
I practiced every day in the castle courtyard. My father had ordered a wooden target be set up there — a rectangular figure with the size of an average man, placed about thirty meters away. Behind it was a tall wall, ensuring that even if I missed, no one would get hurt. It was a safe, discreet place, ideal for training without interruptions.
Every new day, I felt my body change. The influence of the Light of Life began to manifest more clearly. I was still thin, but my muscles were growing stronger. My veins and tendons became more defined, almost as if my body was waking up from a long sleep. I was growing fast, and, according to the servants, I was already tall for my age. I felt a new energy pulsing within me — not just physical, but something deeper. A conviction, perhaps.
My routine was almost sacred. Upon waking, I took a bath, cared for my appearance — even if I was just going to train — and proudly wore my training uniform. It was simple fabric, but well-fitted, comfortable, and durable. Then, I walked to the courtyard, where the morning silence was broken only by the light sound of the wind through the leaves.
As soon as I arrived, I took the bow carefully. I checked the string with my fingers, feeling its tension. It was almost a ritual. I checked the quivers, counted the arrows mentally, and then took my stance. I breathed deeply, closed my eyes for a moment, and visualized the target. Everything faded for a few seconds — the castle, the sounds, the cold stone under my feet. There was only me, the bow... and the target.
I was just a ten-year-old child, but something told me I was walking a path that many men would never dare to follow.
***
It had been a week since I last felt pain or fatigue. That alone was a drastic change. And, as expected, it greatly improved my mood — for the better, of course. I felt my body lighter, firmer, as if it had finally awakened to what it was meant to be.
With my eyes fixed on the wooden target in the distance, I pulled the bowstring to its limit. I felt the muscles in my arm stretch, but with no discomfort. It was pure strength — steady and stable. I aimed with precision, adjusted my posture, and the moment I released my fingers, the string vibrated against the bow with a dry, light snap.
Swhoosh.
The sound cut through the air near my ear, and the arrow flew like lightning, disappearing almost instantly. I couldn't even see it in the air. I followed it with my eyes, but my vision couldn't capture it. All I perceived was the dull thud against the wall behind the target. I sighed.
The first arrow missed. I had overdone it, pulling the string to its limit unnecessarily. I had accumulated too much power for such a short distance. I was forgetting something basic.
"I don't need to use all my strength anymore... I'm recovered," I thought, lowering the bow a bit. "Seems like this change in my body is messing with my control."
It was natural, I knew. I was adapting. That hot spot of light just below my belly button seemed to radiate energy constantly. A source of strength and vitality that never stopped — or at least, it seemed that way. It was just a feeling, of course. I knew there were still limits. And I also knew that if I kept testing them recklessly, I would end up exhausted.
For the second shot, I remembered my first mistake. Less draw. Two-thirds of the full pull. I aimed, breathed deeply, and released.
The arrow shot out again — too fast for me to follow with my eyes — but this time, I managed to glimpse it cutting the air just above the target's head. Better. Much better.
I grabbed another arrow. Slightly adjusted the aim. Shot.
The third arrow veered right.
The fourth, to the left.
And then came the fifth.
I adjusted calmly, feeling the rhythm of my own body. The slowed heartbeat. The breath in sync with the tension in my arms. I aimed once more at the center of the target's chest, feeling the energy flow from my core to my fingers. I shot.
A sharp thud.
The arrow struck right in the middle of the target's chest. A smile formed on my lips.
Hitting the target was only part of the satisfaction. The other part... came from within. I was still new to this world of archery — it all still felt strange. But for some reason, every time an arrow left my fingers, whether it was accurate or not, something inside me calmed down. As if, for a brief moment, the world grew quieter. Clearer.
It was peace. And I wanted more.
As soon as the first arrow struck the center of the target, something inside me awoke. The wood cracked softly, and the arrow's shaft trembled, subtly, like a leaf in the wind. But I didn't stop to admire. Instinct guided me. The second arrow was released almost immediately. Then the third. The fourth. The fifth. My arms acted on their own — pull, aim, release — in an increasing, almost frantic cadence.
The arrows hit the target with precision and force, piercing arms, legs, head, chest, abdomen — each part of the figure carved in wood was marked as if I were imprinting my will on it. With every impact, it was like I could hear the sound of a drumbeat, firm and rhythmic, guiding my focus.
It was at that moment that I began to feel the heat. It started at the base of my pelvis, a faint flame that grew with each shot. It was as if a warm, living liquid energy was being released there. It climbed up my spine like a river of fire, touching each vertebra. When it reached my chest, it spread like branches of a tree, sliding across my ribs, through my arms, down my legs, touching even the top of my head.
Every time I nocked a new arrow and pulled the bow, a new awareness emerged. Between my hands and the target, there was an invisible connection — a kind of tactile sensation that told me exactly how and when to release the string. I didn't need to think anymore. It was my body that shot, at the exact moment, as if the arrow already knew where it would land before leaving the bow.
As I continued, the heat grew. It wasn't uncomfortable — it was vivid, intense, almost sacred. I felt the light of life flow freely through my pelvis, spreading through my bones, as if it were drawing runes of power under my skin. My muscles vibrated. My skin turned red. I could see, even in passing, the pattern of my veins change, as if something inside me was being rewritten.
When the hundredth arrow hit the target, everything stopped for a second.
A wave of energy exploded within me, like a raging tide. I felt my entire body tremble. A red aura of light flickered around me, enveloping my skin for a brief moment — and, shortly after, it was completely absorbed.
I closed my eyes. My hands trembled. But not from fear — it was pure reverence.
I felt something new. The energy now flowed like fresh, clear water. It accumulated in my pelvis, then spread slowly through the rest of my body. It flowed... came back... and flowed again. A continuous cycle. Until, finally, it was absorbed by the flesh.
In that moment, I understood: this was the state of harmony. For the first time, my body and the light of life were in perfect synchrony. I was no longer just channeling energy — I was embodying it. It was as if my very existence had found a new center, an absolute stability.
At that hundredth arrow, I left behind what I was.
That day, I ceased to be just a peasant.
That day, I took my first step toward something greater.
That day, I became a warrior in preparation — not by title, nor by name, but because my body, mind, and spirit had answered the call.
The light of life had recognized me. And I had accepted it.