The sun rose over Riverbend, spilling light across the road that stretched beyond the village gates. For the first time in his life, Orin walked it with no return in sight.
And by "walked," it really meant sprinting in zigzags, climbing trees, and shouting at the top of his lungs.
"WOOOO! Adventure! I smell freedom! I smell meat! I smell… bugs?"
He skidded to a stop beside a bush, poked around, then popped something in his mouth. His eyes lit up. "Mmm! Crunchy!"
Behind him, Code pinched the bridge of his nose. "That was a beetle."
"A delicious beetle," Orin corrected, grinning, wings still stuck between his teeth.
They continued down the dirt road, the forest closing in on either side. Birds chirped. The wind whispered. For Orin, it was paradise. For Code, it was headache.
Orin leapt up a tree, hanging from a branch like a monkey. "Master Code, look! I'm higher than you now!"
"Fall, and you'll learn about gravity."
Orin immediately lost his grip, tumbling into a bush. His head popped out, leaves sticking in his hair. "Lesson learned!"
By dusk, Code finally called a halt in a clearing near a stream. "We camp here."
"Camp?" Orin tilted his head. "Like… camp training? Or camp fun?"
"Camp survival," Code said flatly. He dropped his staff against a tree and crouched to gather twigs. "Make fire."
"Fire?" Orin puffed his chest. "Easy!"
He stacked logs haphazardly, pulled out two stones, and smashed them together until his hands hurt. Sparks flew once, fizzled out.
"Pah! This is stupid." He clenched a fist, then slammed it down. Wood splintered, logs cracked apart into kindling dust. "See? Firewood ready!"
"No," Code sighed. He picked up two dry sticks, rubbed them together in calm rhythm until smoke curled, then flame flickered to life. "This is fire."
Orin's jaw dropped. "You can make fire with boring?"
"Boring saves lives."
Orin crouched beside the flame, poking it with awe. "Hoooh… boring is powerful."
Dinner was roasted rabbit, thanks to Code's silent spear throw. Orin tore into it like a beast, grease dripping down his chin. Code chewed slowly, eyes half-closed, but he watched how Orin ate, how he moved. No discipline. But instinct. Instinct is something I can shape.
The next morning, Code dragged him up before dawn.
"Lesson one," Code said. "Breath."
"I already breathe," Orin yawned.
"Wrong." Code tapped his chest. "You waste air. Every step, every strike, must flow with breath. Or you will collapse."
He demonstrated, inhaling deep, exhaling slow, his entire body seeming lighter, steadier. Then he walked, staff balanced perfectly on his shoulders.
Orin tried to copy. He sucked in air, puffed his chest, then roared like a lion. Birds scattered from trees.
Code didn't flinch. "Idiot. Again."
Hours passed. At first, Orin kept making jokes, adding animal noises to every inhale. But slowly, without realizing, his steps grew smoother. His energy didn't drain as quickly. By midday, he was still bouncing with energy instead of sprawled on the ground like usual.
He blinked, realization dawning. "Wait… I'm not hungry yet. My legs don't hurt. Is this the boring trick?"
Code nodded once. "Listening."
Orin's grin stretched wide. "Ha! Beast Breath unlocked! Stronger punches coming soon!"
By evening, the forest grew denser. The air grew thick, damp, heavy with the scent of rot.
Code's eyes sharpened. He knelt, brushing fingers over claw marks gouged deep into a tree. Fresh.
"Be alert," he said.
Orin perked up instantly. His grin returned. "Ooooh. Monster?"
Before Code could answer, the undergrowth rustled. A low growl rumbled through the clearing. Red eyes glowed in the shadows.
A direwolf stepped out—its body massive, twice the size of any wolf Orin had fought before. Its fur bristled, dark matted with blood, saliva dripping in strings from its jaws. Muscles bunched under its skin, every step pressing deep into the earth.
Orin's grin widened until it looked feral. "YES! My first wild boss!"
The direwolf lunged.
Orin charged.
"Idiot!" Code barked, but it was too late.
Claws slashed. Orin ducked low, rolling under, then sprang up with a roar. He swung a fist, but this time—not just raw swing. He planted his feet, steadied his breath, just like Code had shown him.
His fist slammed into the direwolf's ribs. CRACK. The beast yelped, stumbling sideways. Orin laughed, blood rushing hot in his ears.
The wolf recovered, spun, jaws snapping. Teeth grazed his arm, ripping cloth, blood spilling. Pain lanced through him—but he grinned wider.
"More!"
He exhaled sharp, stance low. Beast Stance. Breath steady. He darted forward again, fists flying. The wolf struck with claws, he deflected with his forearm, taking scratches but holding ground. His other fist pounded into its jaw. Bone cracked. Blood sprayed.
The forest shook with their clash. Dirt ripped up under their feet. Each blow was a drumbeat, each roar an echo of something greater than child or beast.
Finally, Orin caught its head under his arm, roared with everything in his lungs, and slammed a brutal uppercut into its throat. The direwolf collapsed, choking, then stilled.
Orin stood over it, panting, blood dripping down his arm. His chest heaved. Then he threw his arms up and howled. "HAAAA! Victory! Stronger punches, bigger prey!"
Then he collapsed on his butt, laughing through the blood.
Code walked over silently, crouched, and pressed herbs against Orin's cuts. His expression was unreadable.
Orin winced, but his grin never faded. "See? I listened! Beast Stance plus boring breathing—SUPER BEAST!"
Code tied the bandage tight, then finally spoke. "No. It's called listening."
Orin laughed, head lolling back. "Same thing!"
Later, by the fire, Orin devoured meat from the direwolf's carcass, grease shining on his cheeks. His blue uniform was torn, stained with blood, but his eyes burned with triumph.
Code watched him, silent, the flames dancing in his own gaze. He is reckless. But he learns. Too fast. Far too fast.
The fire crackled. Orin lay back, hands behind his head, humming nonsense until sleep claimed him. A wide grin stayed on his face even in dreams.
Code shifted his staff, staring into the night. The forest rustled with things unseen. He whispered low, almost to himself:
"If this boy survives his own stupidity, the world won't know what hit it."