"So, you want me to repeat myself?" the man asked, giving him a kind of look that told Simma he was about to hear "Lesson five failed," and in order to avoid that, he replied sharply,
"No... I understand you perfectly. I was only wondering how striking a bowl of water will be of any real benefit."
The man studied him for a moment, eyes like polished obsidian. He hesitated a bit. Then, with unshaken calm, he replied,
"Just do as I say."
Not quite the philosophical answer Simma was hoping for, but he obeyed.
He settled down, adjusted his posture, and began to slap the surface of the water with his palms, slow, steady, and deliberate.
He kept on going, on and on, quietly. No one said anything, neither him nor the man, only the rhythmic smacks and the subtle splash of water cutting through the silence.
And then, something began to stir, and Simma noticed it.
Each time the water trembled and gradually returned to stillness, in that fleeting, crystalline moment of reflection... Simma saw it.
A face, his face though but then, it was no more his face, rather a dragon head, vague and spectral, suspended within the ripples..
He kept on going. He would hit it, allow it calm down, and then hit it again. But it happened three times more and stopped. He smiled at least Simma knew what the exercise was for.
It meant that he is connected with his beast, and not that it was just some detached entity.
Not just that. The beast lives within him and is like his second personality, completely tethered to him, dormant within the bedrock of his essence, waiting to be acknowledged.
He kept hitting the water until the water in the bowl ran down, and then suddenly the man said,
"Stop," the man finally commanded.
He stepped closer, that enigmatic expression unchanged.
"Get up, boy."
Simma got up humbly. He didn't say much, but all he knew was that his right hand was now in huge pain, aching so badly.
"This lesson, " the man began, "though it seems stupid, is something that tests your focus and patience. And the only way that I will know that you did it perfectly is if you tell me what you noticed when you were hitting that water."
Simma smiled. Thank goodness he paid attention to what he was doing. He inhaled deeply. His voice emerged with newfound certainty.
"I saw my within beast,"
he replied.
"I didn't just see it, it was as if I turned into it."
A smirk flitted across the man's lips.
"Is that so?"
Simma nodded. "Yeah."
The man turned, his black kimono swaying with his motion as he said,
"Right then, walk."
They started walking back in silence through the dense forest. 'Was it towards the way they came or not?' Simma didn't know. All he knew was that he followed his sensei, and that he was being led toward something... consequential.
At least it wasn't a long walk, and then they arrived at an open cave.
The circular opening, short and ancient, had this spiral circle-like marking around the entrance of the cave.
The rest of the outside was covered in green.
The man stopped, as Simma did as well.
Stroking his beard, he turned to Simma and said,
"Since the time to your wood hint is almost on us, we have to do this training old school."
Simma glared at the man and down back to the cave. 'I hope you are not sending me into that cave,' he thought.
"And by old school," the man continued, "I mean we are not going to be doing this from easy to hard like we normally do, but we are now going to do it all at once."
Simma swallowed. He was now praying to any force that would answer him that he doesn't enter that cave, and just like his prayer was being answered, the man said,
"Watch out, Simma… your instructions are simple: kill whatever attacks you."
"Hold on," Simma began. He wanted to ask what was coming out of that cave but was cut short as he rather yelled,
"Aaarggghh!"
A razor-sharp agony detonated in his back. He collapsed like a stone dropped from a cliff... lungs seized by shock. It was the kind of pain that cracked through the mind like a hammer on glass, raw, searing, and undeniable.
Though it was a pain he had felt before, when Bragga's cheetah had sunk its paws and ran them through his back, but this one was more painful, and since he hadn't anticipated it, it threw him down onto the floor.
As sharp as he could, he scampered to his feet, the pain at his back running to his brain and turning his eyes tear-red. He could feel his blood gushing through his back.
He looked around, scanning for his attacker and doing his best to stay alert, but he saw nothing. Where those paws came from, he didn't know, but he had this persistent feeling that something was looking at him.
Just then, something whooshed past his back, and he turned, but he wasn't fast enough to see it. Whatever it was, it was very fast and also had this good sense of hiding.
But where could it possibly hide that Simma couldn't see it? Is it behind trees or grasses? How possible is it? Or is this creature too small?
'Gust',
It whooshed past his right and Simma turned there, but before he could see anything, it struck again, this time across his chest, a violent sweep from his left pec to the tip of his shoulder. Flesh tore and blood sprayed as he screamed. He was only able to see its blur whooshing past.
The impact sent him spinning wildly and landing face flat to the floor.
Still, he pushed himself up. He had to.
This wasn't just a lesson, it was survival.
He groaned, but he couldn't afford to waste any time on the floor despite the pain. Rather, he had to be on his feet so that the monster or whatever that was would not climb on him while on the floor.
And at that, he fully got up to his feet, not relenting. But yet his fear was now high, and the pain made him feel weak. He started turning around again, shooting sharp looks in any direction he heard something flutter by.
But then he realised something and stopped the sudden movement. He calmed his pulse and listened to his environment, realising that he needed not to look for what he couldn't see but rather hear it.
He pushed the pain he was feeling aside. Panicked spinning wouldn't save him. He took his normal deep breath and shut his eyes. He paid attention to the flailing of the branches, the songs of the birds, every leaf that fell off the tree, and also the waves of the river.
Everything seemed to slow down. It was as if he could also hear the sound of his shadow, something very impossible, and then the growl.
Very little, faint, raspy and almost inaudible. It was coming from his front. It was furious and also sounded more like a snarl.
He listened more, and that was when he noticed that it was now coming for him. Just then, he slammed his eyes open and saw it.
It was no monster, no beast, no Singrith or demon.
Rather, it was an animal. A real, feral predator. And it was rushing at him.
Adrenaline pumped through him, and knowing how fast this animal was, he too needed to act fast and on time.
The beast made for his legs, but as fast as he could, he jumped off the ground and wrapped his hands around the lowest branch of the tree beside him and sprawled himself upward in a quick swing as the animal missed him just by an inch.
But the animal was fast, and it had aimed at him with force, a force which it quickly diverted by jumping off the ground. And with two sharp jumps across the bark of two trees, changed its direction and lunched back at Simma, its sharp paws scratching through his face since Simma had turned to look.
"AAARRRRRGGGGHHH"
Four deep lacerations carved through his cheek.
The pain was so much that Simma's hand left the tree, and he collapsed to the floor, blood trailing from the deep scratches.
If this was what he thought he was going to receive from this training, that means he would be lying.
Because this wasn't training anymore.
This was warfare.
And something inside him... snapped.
Anger was all he could feel.
Gone was the composure he had moments ago. Gone was the serene connection to his inner self. In its place.... -rage-.
His eyes now glowed a different colour, which they had never glowed before. It blared red, and the aura around him changed.
He shook his head, remembering that Zolomon told him that anger would rip him inside out. He was doing his best to put that anger away, trying to remember a happy memory.
But all to no avail. All he could remember was the way Bragga's cheetah had done the same thing this animal had done to him.
The way their paws sank into him, the way they caught him off guard. The anger spread even further as it now led to him remembering Sonja's death.
His breath became furious, and just then he started swirling the anger in him, building up at every instance. He was no longer in control of himself, not at all.
He knelt up, one knee on the ground and one hand on the ground. The pain in his face had also led to the anger he was feeling.
Velvety force started to emanate around him, a tempest of unfiltered fury, instead of the normal blue one that determined his powers.
Just then, inside his palm, a long sword with thick polished hilt appeared. The sword pulsed with red lightning, its edges crackling with raw essence. It looked less like a blade and more like a 'curse given form'.
Meanwhile, the animal was still whooshing around, but as it noticed that Simma was down, it pounced.
But...
BOOM!.