The ground was cold beneath his knees.
Not stone, not soil, but a mixture of both—broken earth hardened by repeated formation burns. Tiny fragments pressed into his skin through thin fabric, biting with every shift of weight. The Emperor steadied his breathing, keeping it shallow. Too deep, and his ribs would protest. Too fast, and his heart would falter.
"Move."
The command cracked through the air.
A whip followed it—not striking him, but the ground inches from his hand. Dust scattered, stinging his eyes.
The overseers had divided them quickly. No explanation. No rules. Each group was assigned to a section of the scarred land, handed crude tools that barely qualified as such.
His tool was a dull iron shovel.
It weighed far more than this body could comfortably manage.
"Dig until sunset," the overseer said without emotion. "Collapse, and you'll be dragged aside. Don't get back up."
The meaning was clear.
The Emperor pushed himself to his feet, joints screaming in protest. He wrapped both hands around the shovel's handle. His fingers were pale, knuckles protruding, grip weak.
He drove the shovel into the ground.
The impact rattled his arms violently. Pain surged up to his shoulders, nearly forcing him to release his grip. He paused, breath hitching, vision swimming.
Too much.
He adjusted.
Smaller movements. Less force. Efficiency over strength.
The second attempt barely pierced the surface—but it worked.
He lifted the dirt and cast it aside.
Again.
And again.
Minutes passed.
Each movement stole something from him—heat, strength, clarity. Sweat soaked into his thin robe despite the cold. His arms trembled uncontrollably, muscles burning as if set alight.
Nearby, someone collapsed.
No one stopped working.
The overseer glanced once, then gestured. Two guards dragged the body away, leaving a dark smear across the ground.
The Emperor did not look.
Looking wasted energy.
He focused inward, observing his body with ruthless honesty.
Heart rate: unstable but holding.
Breathing: shallow, controlled.
Muscle failure: approaching.
He adjusted again.
Short pauses between movements. Resting the shovel against his body to support his weight. Letting the boy's ingrained habit of endurance take over—the learned stillness of someone used to surviving by minimizing their presence.
By midday, his vision blurred constantly.
Spiritual energy hung thick in the air, leaking from formations buried beneath the land. Each pulse sent a dull ache through his skull. His soul reacted instinctively, Void fragments stirring, attempting to erase the intrusion.
He suppressed it immediately.
Even a flicker would tear him apart.
A scream rang out suddenly.
A girl a few pits away had struck a formation node by accident. Light flared, scorching her hands instantly. She collapsed, shrieking, smoke rising from burned flesh.
No one moved to help.
The overseer watched until the screams faded, then turned away.
The Emperor's grip tightened imperceptibly.
Not in anger.
In recognition.
This world was honest in its cruelty.
When the sun began to dip, his arms finally gave out.
The shovel slipped from his fingers, clattering to the ground. His knees buckled, body folding forward. He caught himself with one hand, gasping, lungs burning.
A shadow fell over him.
"Get up," a guard said.
The Emperor tried.
His body refused.
The guard raised his foot—
"Enough."
The tall figure from before stepped forward, gaze indifferent as ever. He studied the Emperor briefly, then looked away.
"Leave him. He lived through the day."
The guard stepped back reluctantly.
The Emperor lay still, chest heaving, every nerve screaming.
Alive.
That was the only measure that mattered.
As night fell, they were given a bowl of thin gruel and a cup of cloudy water. The Emperor ate slowly, forcing each swallow down despite nausea. Nutrients were fuel. Nothing more.
He curled up on the ground afterward, too exhausted to move.
Above him, unfamiliar stars burned in the sky.
The Emperor closed his eyes.
Today, he had not cultivated.
He had not grown stronger.
But he had learned something more important.
This body could endure.
And endurance was the first step on any path.
Tomorrow, he would endure again.