As the first rays of sunlight pierced the jagged mountain peaks, the Mountain Shrine awakened in a storm of sound and motion. Pale mist slithered through the stone courtyards like wandering spirits, clinging to cracked tiles, weathered pillars, and ancient guardian statues worn smooth by centuries of devotion and bloodshed. Every breath tasted of iron, ash, and incense burned in quiet prayer for those who had failed before.
Steel rang sharply against steel. Magic detonated against barriers in flashes of light and thunder. Orders barked by trainers echoed between the cliffs, carried by cold mountain winds that cut through muscle and bone alike.
This was not a place for rest.
This was where hunters were broken—and reforged.
Riku trained relentlessly beneath the watchful gaze of Juzo—the Hookman. The elite hunter moved like a predator, his twin hooks flashing like arcs of silver lightning as they tore through the air. Chains whistled and snapped with lethal intent, twisting unpredictably, never striking from the same angle twice.
"Keep your guard up, boy!" Juzo barked, his chains lashing out in a blur.
Riku barely ducked in time. One hook grazed his shoulder, tearing cloth and flesh alike. Pain flared hot and sharp, but he refused to slow. Gritting his teeth, he spun on his heel and countered with a sharp cross slash aimed directly for Juzo's chest.
"You'll have to be faster than that, old man!" Riku shot back, breath ragged but eyes burning.
Juzo smirked.
"Good," he said, stepping aside just enough for the blade to pass harmlessly by. "You've learned to taunt—but can you defend?"
The hooks twisted midair.
Chains snapped taut, coiling around Riku's blades with a violent jerk. Sparks exploded as metal screamed against metal. Riku felt the sudden drag threaten to wrench the swords from his hands. Instead of resisting, he spun with the pull, letting momentum carry him backward as the chains snapped past where his head had been moments earlier.
Juzo attacked again. And again.
The rhythm was merciless—hooks against swords, chains against steel, mentor against student. Each mistake earned immediate punishment. Each success only invited a harsher test. Sweat poured down Riku's face, blurring his vision. His arms burned, muscles screaming with every movement, lungs clawing for air.
But something changed.
His movements grew sharper. Cleaner. Each parry flowed naturally into a counter. Each dodge came a heartbeat sooner. He stopped reacting—and began anticipating.
By dusk, the courtyard glowed orange beneath torchlight. Juzo finally lowered his weapons, chains clinking softly as they went slack.
"You've learned my rhythm," he said, studying Riku carefully. "But remember—anticipation is only the first step. Now you must master prediction."
Riku sheathed his swords, chest heaving, legs trembling. Despite the exhaustion, a grin tugged at his lips. "Then next time," he said, voice rough, "I'll make you the one who has to adapt."
Juzo laughed, deep and approving.
On the eastern training grounds, Nao stood rigid before Ichiro, feet planted firmly against the stone. Energy surged through him like a raging river, threatening to overflow at the slightest lapse in focus. His heart pounded in time with the power within him.
"Focus, Nao," Ichiro said calmly. "Your beasts are extensions of your mind. If your mind falters, so do they."
Nao clenched his fists and exhaled slowly, forcing his breathing to steady. With a sharp gesture, his Baby Dragon erupted into existence in a burst of flame, letting out a high-pitched roar as fire scorched the wooden targets ahead. Heat washed over Nao's face, sweat instantly forming on his brow.
"I… I've got this," he muttered, though doubt flickered behind his eyes.
"Now—the Beast Dog!" Ichiro commanded.
Green light flared. The massive spectral hound burst forth, muscles rippling as it tore through training dummies with precise, feral strikes. Wood splintered. Stone cracked. Nao's eyes darted frantically between the two creatures, lips moving constantly as he issued commands, struggling to keep both in sync.
"Defend!" Ichiro shouted suddenly.
Nao barely had time to react.
Haruki charged without hesitation, swinging a wooden staff with full force. Panic surged through Nao—but training overrode fear. The Golem erupted from the ground in a roar of stone, massive arms raised just as the staff slammed into its side and shattered on impact.
Nao staggered back, breathing hard, heart hammering in his chest. "I… I can handle them all now," he said, trying to sound confident.
Ichiro crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Confidence is good," he replied evenly. "Overconfidence will get you killed. Remember that."
Nao swallowed hard and nodded, forcing himself to calm his racing heart as the beasts faded back into light.
Elsewhere, beneath the looming presence of carved stone guardians, Hana stood alone before Master Batsu. Her hands glowed as fire swirled around her palms, a brilliant orange halo dancing in the morning light. Each flame pulsed in time with her breath, her heartbeat, her will.
"Again," Batsu commanded, his massive shield shimmering with layered runes.
Hana thrust her hands forward. Fire crashed against the barrier—and was absorbed, just as before. The flames dispersed harmlessly, vanishing into nothing.
"Why won't you let any through?!" Hana shouted, frustration burning hotter than her fire.
"Because you're holding back," Batsu replied calmly.
Hana clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms. Memories surged unbidden—fear, helplessness, moments where her power had failed her when it mattered most. Her chest tightened.
"Fine," she whispered. "Then I won't."
She screamed.
Fire erupted—brighter, hotter, wilder than before. The air itself screamed as heat warped it. The ground cracked beneath her feet. Batsu's shield trembled violently, glowing brighter as fractures spiderwebbed across its surface.
With a thunderous crack, it shattered into shards of light.
The courtyard fell deathly silent.
Hana dropped to one knee, gasping, hands still smoking. "I… finally did it," she whispered.
Batsu stepped forward, eyes filled with rare approval. "There it is," he said softly. "The fire that burns without fear."
Seven brutal days passed.
Bruises layered over bruises. Burns healed only to be replaced by new ones. Muscles screamed and then hardened. Sleep came in fleeting, dreamless fragments.
Riku's dual-sword technique became fluid and precise, fast enough to counter Juzo's hooks without hesitation. His instincts sharpened, his confidence grounded in discipline rather than arrogance.
Nao learned to command two beasts at once, coordinating offense and defense in seamless harmony. Panic no longer ruled his mind—focus did.
Hana's fire no longer flickered with doubt. It burned alive, fierce and unrestrained, answering her call without hesitation.
The Mountain Shrine had begun its work.
It was no longer shaping survivors.
It was forging hunters.