Beneath a clouded sky, the walls of the training tower loomed, staring down at Arian with a cold, unfeeling gaze. Inside, he stood alone amid heavy silence, his eyes fixed on the markings drawn across the floor—interlocking circles and stone pillars that mapped out a path meant to hone the body. His heart pounded fiercely; he knew this moment would be decisive, his first true attempt at the speed technique he had chosen from the academy's library.
He approached the wall where ancient words were carved:
"Swift Wind Technique – three stages, no weak body can withstand them."
He read the line again and again, as if it sought to weigh his resolve. Lifting his head, he allowed himself a hesitant smile.
"Three stages… If I can just touch the first today, it means I've truly begun."
Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep breath. The instructor's words from yesterday echoed in his mind—an explanation of the power levels that separated the students. He was still only at the fourth rank, seen as weak by the others, an outsider with no name. But inside him burned something else, a refusal to be buried.
He began to stir his spiritual energy. Warmth coursed through his veins, gathering at his feet until he felt the ground shiver beneath him. The first step of the technique had seemed simple on paper: *"Let your body flow with the wind