The days bled into weeks. In the ruins where wind never rested, Ren's world became pain, repetition, and silence.
Kael's lessons were merciless.
He made Ren run barefoot through stone and thorn until his feet bled.
He made him strike the same post ten thousand times until his arms trembled and his fingers tore open.
And every night, when Ren thought the day was done, Kael would simply say—
"Again."
Ren had begun to hate that word.
And yet… he obeyed. Because he saw something in Kael's eyes — not cruelty, but faith.
Faith that a Giftless boy could become more.
---
The Weight of Nothing
One night, Kael tossed Ren a dull metal rod — heavy, unbalanced.
"From now on," Kael said, "you'll train with this."
Ren caught it and nearly dropped it. "This isn't even shaped like a sword!"
"Good," Kael said. "A weapon's not meant to comfort you. It's meant to remind you how fragile you are."
He stepped behind Ren, adjusting his stance. "When you swing, don't think of striking the air. Think of cutting your weakness away."
Ren swung. Again. And again. Until sweat blinded him.
Until pain was all he knew.
Until every breath was a war.
But in that endless rhythm, something began to shift. His movements grew smoother. His body heavier, denser — not from fatigue, but from control. His strikes started to carry a strange weight, invisible but real.
Kael noticed, a rare smirk touching his lips. "You're feeling it now, aren't you? The hum inside your body."
Ren nodded weakly. "It's… like the air's pressing back."
"That's your Vital Aura stirring. Your body and spirit are finally moving as one. Keep going."
---
The Ambush
The next morning, Kael sent Ren down the mountain to gather herbs.
"Stay alert," Kael warned. "Aura training dulls the senses if you rely too much on the body. Keep your mind awake."
Ren nodded — but he didn't understand what the old warrior truly meant until it was too late.
At the foot of the cliffs, he found the herbs, bright green against the rocks. He knelt to pluck them—
And heard a whisper of steel behind him.
A blur of motion — a dagger sliced across his shoulder.
Ren stumbled back, clutching the wound.
Three men emerged from the trees. Bandits.
Their clothes were ragged, but their blades gleamed with faint light — Gifted.
"Well, look at this," one sneered. "A little Giftless rat all alone."
Ren's pulse thundered. He backed away, heart pounding. His training flashed in his mind, Kael's words echoing:
> "When fear strikes, listen to your heartbeat. That rhythm is your weapon."
The bandits closed in. "Kill him quick," one said. "We'll take whatever he's got."
The first man lunged — Ren dodged by instinct, but the blade still grazed his arm. The pain was sharp, real, grounding.
He ducked under a second swing, swung his rod wildly, and hit one across the jaw — barely making him flinch.
"Pathetic!" the man spat, grabbing Ren by the collar. "You think you can fight us without a Gift?"
Ren's vision blurred. His chest burned, his lungs screamed.
But somewhere deep inside, something snapped.
> I won't die here.
Not before I prove I can stand on my own.
He clenched his fist — and suddenly, warmth burst through him.
The same warmth from his training, but wilder, alive.
The bandit raised his dagger — and Ren moved.
---
The Awakening
For a heartbeat, everything slowed.
Ren saw every detail — the man's stance, the twitch of his wrist, the shift of his weight.
He twisted aside, slammed his elbow into the bandit's ribs, and swung his rod with both hands.
CRACK!
The man flew backward, crashing into a tree.
The others froze.
Ren stood there, chest heaving, steam rising faintly from his skin. The ground around his feet quivered — small stones lifting, trembling in the pressure of unseen energy.
Kael's voice echoed in his mind.
> "Vital Aura — the body's roar. When spirit and flesh move as one, the world hears your heartbeat."
Ren glared at the remaining bandits. His hands shook, not from fear — but from raw energy struggling to escape.
"Leave," he said. His voice was low, steady. "Or I'll make you."
For a moment, the bandits hesitated. They saw the faint distortion in the air around him — invisible, but unmistakable.
Then they turned and fled.
---
Aftermath
When Kael found Ren later, the boy was sitting among the fallen herbs, bloodied but smiling.
Kael looked at the cracked earth around him, then at Ren's trembling hands.
"So," he said quietly. "You've awakened it."
Ren nodded. "It happened when I thought I'd die."
Kael crouched beside him, setting a hand on his shoulder.
"That's how it always begins. The body answers when the soul demands to live."
Ren looked up, eyes burning with determination. "What's next?"
Kael smiled faintly. "Now, we temper it. You've learned to hear your heartbeat — next, you'll learn to hear the world's."
Ren frowned. "You mean… Perceptive Aura?"
Kael stood, turning toward the horizon. "Exactly. If Vital Aura is the roar of life… Perceptive Aura is the whisper of truth."
He glanced back with a hint of pride.
"Rest while you can, Ren. Tomorrow, the real training begins."