The training field behind Riverbend stretched quiet that morning, grass bent flat where Orin had been practicing for days. Code stood with arms folded, staff pressed against his shoulder, expression flat as ever. His gaze never softened, not even when Orin beamed at him with the manic grin of someone about to commit chaos.
"Again," Code said.
"Yes, master boring!" Orin chirped, already squatting low into his beloved stance.
He thumped his chest twice like a gorilla, puffed his cheeks, and then lunged forward with a roar. His fists slammed into a practice log, snapping the wood in half.
"Ha! Beast Stance! Unstoppable!"
Code pinched his brow. "Unstable. Rootless. Wasteful."
Orin crouched again, swaying side to side. "Wasteful? Look, I'm recycling! Beast Stance—version two!" He bounced forward, this time adding a ridiculous hop that made him look like a frog trying to fly.
The log shattered anyway. Splinters rained down.
Code stared at the wreckage, his jaw tightening. "You're not even trying to learn form."
"I am!" Orin puffed. "I'm forming my own form."
"Idiot."
"Genius!"
But as much as Code wanted to throttle him, he couldn't ignore what he saw. The boy's aura, sloppy though it was, clung heavier every day. No longer just scattered sparks—it was condensing, whether Orin realized it or not.
Orin crouched low again, determined. "Okay, okay. Watch this. I'll combine your boring breathing thing with my Beast Stance. Double power!"
"Do not—"
Too late. Orin inhaled deep, chest swelling. He remembered Code's lesson: draw ki inward. He remembered his own lesson: explode outward. He tried both at once.
And then the world slowed.
The black haze hugging his arms didn't scatter this time. It collapsed inward, folding tight against his skin, compressing into jagged lines like dark lightning scars. Blue sparks snapped sharp, steady instead of wild, crackling in rhythm with his heartbeat.
Orin's fist drew back. The air warped around it, pulling dust and grass toward him. His grin widened, eyes reflecting blue fire.
He roared and punched forward.
BOOOOOOOM!
The shockwave ripped out like a miniature storm. Grass flattened in a wide circle, dirt cracked outward in spiderwebs, the nearest logs exploded into splinters before his fist even touched them. A wall of air slammed Code's robes back, flapping like sails.
For an instant, Orin stood in the center of it, framed by black haze and blue lightning snapping off his body like chains breaking. His hair whipped around his face, grin feral, eyes shining manic.
Then the backlash hit.
He was hurled off his feet, spinning through the air before crashing into the dirt with a skid that carved a trench. He lay there coughing dust, then sat up with the biggest grin of his life.
"DID YOU SEE THAT?!"
The sound had carried.
A handful of villagers on their way to the river stopped dead, baskets in hand. They stared at the cracked earth, the shattered logs, and the boy sitting in the middle of it all with black-blue sparks still snapping across his arms.
Whispers spread like wildfire.
"He… he broke the ground."
"That aura—look at it! It's not human."
"Monster. We've raised a monster."
"No… we've raised a protector. Did you not see? He saved us from Orcs, and now—this is proof."
Children peeked from behind their mothers' skirts, eyes huge with awe and fear. A man made the sign of protection on his chest. Another bowed his head as if before a warlord.
Orin stood, brushing dirt off his shorts, grin splitting his face. He raised both fists high. "Ha! You saw, right?! Beast Stance—perfected! Stronger punch, bigger boom!"
The villagers flinched back. Some clapped nervously. Others turned and hurried away, muttering. The rumor had begun.
Yira came running, basket of water jars in hand. She stopped cold when she saw the cracked training field, villagers whispering, and Orin standing in the middle like a demon-child with sparks still buzzing around him.
Her heart thudded. Fear prickled her arms. Not fear of him—but fear of what others were thinking.
She shoved through the crowd. "Enough staring! He's not a monster!"
Villagers looked away, shuffling their feet.
Yira stormed up to Orin, grabbed his arm, and hissed, "Do you know what you're doing? You're terrifying people!"
Orin blinked, still grinning. "Terrifying? Nah, they loved it! Look at that guy, he nearly peed from excitement!"
"I said terrifying, not impressing!" she snapped, cheeks red. She pinched his cheek hard. "Stop grinning like an idiot!"
"Ow-ow-ow! Yiraaa, you care~!"
Her blush deepened until her ears turned crimson. "I—! I don't care! I just don't want the village turning on you, idiot!"
He grinned wider. "Aww, my sister-wife is worried."
Yira shrieked, dropped the basket on his foot, and stormed off, face scarlet.
Orin hopped on one leg, laughing. "She totally cares!"
The villagers whispered louder now, some with smiles, some with pale faces. Respect and fear twined together until no one could tell which outweighed the other.
By nightfall, the village had gone quiet, but the whispers had not stopped.
Code stood at the riverbank alone, staff planted in the dirt, eyes reflecting the moon. He replayed the image in his head: a boy, aura compressed without technique, striking with force that split the ground.
Natural. Untrained. Dangerous.
"This boy will surpass me," Code murmured. "Or he will burn everything before he learns control."
His fingers tightened on the staff. That aura… it wasn't only his own ki. There was something else in it. Darker. Older.
Behind him, Orin snored in the Capillet house, sprawled on the floor with Yira's apron once again in his arms. He muttered in his sleep, voice smug: "Bigger punch… future wife's gonna love it…"
Code closed his eyes. The night air tasted of iron. He made his decision.
"Tomorrow," he whispered to the dark, "we move to advanced training. Whether he's ready or not."
Thunder rumbled low on the horizon, and the river's surface shivered.