I ventured with old Lao deep into the forest, where the canopy swallowed the sun, until we halted before a dense thicket of bamboo. Lao stood still, his presence as heavy as the mountains.
"Boy," he began, his voice rasping with the weight of years, "if it is power you seek, tell me—to what lengths are you willing to go?"
I hesitated, weighing the gravity of his question, before answering firmly: "As far as humanly possible."
Lao nodded, a grim smile playing on his lips. "A correct answer, yet a flawed one. Look at this bamboo. In its youth, it is supple and yielding. When it matures, it attains a hardness rivaling steel. But is that its limit? No. If you sharpen its edges, it becomes a spear that pierces flesh. If you wield it as a staff, its strike shatters bone. If you lace it with blades, it becomes a harbinger of death."
He stepped closer, his eyes piercing mine. "The truth is, you are the sculptor of your own soul. If you see yourself as mere bamboo, that is all you will ever be. But if you see your own versatility, you become limitless. Never speak of 'limits.' Instead, strive for totality. Learn one thing after another; stay thirsty for growth. And the first lesson I shall grant you... is Solidity."
I straightened my back, my heart pounding. "I am ready."
Lao let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "You are not. What stands before me is not a warrior, but a child playing at shadows. You have no aura, your body is unrefined, and your senses are dulled. Those hands of yours... they once cast a long shadow, but now they are stained with the rot of laziness. I care nothing for your past 'achievements.' You possess a raw, savage power you gained by mere fluke—a power you do not understand. Either prove you deserve it, or cast it away."
His words stung worse than any blade. "You are harsh, Master," I replied, "but you are right. I have been fighting with a strength I didn't earn, in a body I never deigned to train. I charged into danger with nothing but recklessness. But the shame isn't in being weak; it is in remaining ignorant. I will learn."
Lao's expression softened into a rare, sharp grin. "That is the answer. Now, kick this bamboo until it breaks."
I stared at the iron-like stalk in disbelief. "Are you joking? My leg will shatter before it even dents!"
"I have no intention of waiting a month for your bones to knit just so you can break them again," Lao retorted, tossing me several vials. "These are healing elixirs. They will mend the flesh instantly, but remember—the agony will remain etched in your mind. If you want power, this is the toll."
I swung my leg, and a white-hot flash of pain erupted through my spine. I screamed in silence. Again and again, I kicked, and again and again, the pain broke me. Lao sighed, his voice cold: "You have until dawn. If you cannot break this bamboo, never show me your face again." Then, he vanished into the gloom.
Time became a blur of agony. I drank the elixir once, twice, a hundred times, but the pain only deepened. Just as I was about to collapse, a chilling, familiar voice sliced through the dark.
"What is this? Surrendering so soon? You poor, pathetic child."
I looked up to see the Demon King standing before me. "Impossible," I gasped. "You are sealed within me. How can you be here?"
The Demon King laughed, a sound like grinding stones. "Sealed? No, it is you who are a prisoner—trapped in your own delusions. You try to mimic the original owner of this body? The one who saved a city without a drop of energy? And you... you hold two of the greatest powers in existence and achieve nothing. You are a failure. You are Olaf, not Andre. You are filth, not a hero. Know your worth and crawl away."
The demon pointed toward the elixirs, his eyes mocking. "Do you need your medicine?"
A fire ignited in my gut—not of power, but of pure, unadulterated rage. I stood up, ignoring the demon, the medicine, and the scream of my shattered nerves. I struck the bamboo. Once. Twice. A hundred times.
At daybreak, Lao and Ain walked toward the clearing.
"What do you think of Andre?" Ain asked.
"The boy is kind," Lao replied. "But kindness without power is like a shield without a sword."
"What task did you set for him?"
"Breaking the bamboo."
Ain stopped dead. "Are you mad? His body isn't ready for that! He'll break before the wood does!"
Lao's voice turned low and dangerous. "If he cannot surpass this, then let everything he loves burn. I have no use for a man who only knows how to talk."
Ain sighed. "How many did he break? One?"
When they reached the clearing, the words died in their throats.
It wasn't one. One hundred stalks of bamboo lay splintered on the ground. Andre stood there, swaying on broken legs, his foot crashing into the one-hundred-and-first stalk until it snapped. Lao looked at the medicine bag; it was nearly full. The boy had stopped using the elixirs. He had endured the final hours through sheer, raw will.
I caught sight of them and managed a bloody, jagged grin. "Hey, Master... I broke a hundred and one. My legs are gone, I can't even feel them... so, you old bastard... start my training."
I collapsed. My legs were ruined, unable to hold my weight. Lao walked over, poured the elixir down my throat, and whispered, "Well done, boy. This pain is the price you pay for those you love."
As the healing warmth flooded my system, I looked up. "Thank you, Mas—"
Before I could finish, Lao's fist connected with my jaw, sending me flying.
"You idiot! You have the nerve to curse at me?" Lao roared. "Get ready, because the rest of your training will be a living hell!"
Behind him, Ain couldn't hold it back anymore. He doubled over, his laughter echoing through the trees