One months later...
Zero wandered through the quiet streets, the evening breeze ruffling his dark hair. Lanterns flickered along the alleys, casting long, wavering shadows. He felt the weight of his loss still pressing on his chest — the fight with the Shadow Master had ended, but the fragments of his power remained beyond reach.
He didn't know where to begin. Strength was not enough. Power alone had failed him. He needed guidance.
As he turned a corner, a small, almost hidden shop caught his eye. The sign was faded, its symbols ancient and worn. Smoke curled lazily from the stove inside, carrying the scent of herbs and incense. The place seemed ordinary, yet something about it drew him closer.
Inside, a frail-looking old man sat quietly, polishing a set of small, metal tools. His eyes, sharp despite the wrinkles, fixed on Zero with calm curiosity.
"You seem troubled, young one," the old man said, voice soft but steady. "Why do you carry such weight in your steps?"
Zero hesitated. "I... I lost something. I need to regain it, but I don't know how."
The old man chuckled faintly, setting the tools aside. "Lost something, you say? People lose money, memories, even friends. But what you've lost… it's not something ordinary, is it?"
Zero stiffened. His fingers curled slightly. "How would you know?"
"I can see it in your eyes." The old man leaned back, studying him carefully. "Those who lose power walk differently. Those who lose purpose… breathe differently."
Zero looked away, jaw tight. "If you know so much, then tell me how to regain it."
The old man did not answer immediately. Instead, he stood, walking slowly toward a shelf filled with scrolls and cracked bottles. He picked up a small vial, swirling the glowing blue liquid inside. The room's dim light reflected off the glass, casting faint shimmering patterns across Zero's face.
"There are two kinds of strength," the old man said. "There are two kinds of strength," the old man said. "One that comes from the body, the power what we call is the elemental power and one that comes from the shadow inside your soul. Most people only meditation/focus the first."
Zero's breath caught. "You...can see this aura?"
The old man smiled thinly. "Boy...I could sense you the moment you stepped onto my street."
Zero's eyes widened, a flash of caution tightening his stance. "Who are you?"
"Someone who has seen far too many like you. Lost. Broken. Searching." He walked closer again, placing the glowing vial on the table between them. "If you truly wish to reclaim what you lost… you must learn to control not the darkness around you, but the darkness within."
Zero's heart pounded. He'd heard those words before, years ago, from someone who was no longer here.
"You speak… like my master did," Zero muttered.
The old man's expression softened. "Then perhaps your master was wiser than you realized."
Silence settled for a moment, broken only by the crackling of the stove.
"Sit," the old man said finally. "Tell me everything. What you lost. How you lost it."
He tapped the bottle lightly. "Then I will decide whether you are ready… to walk the path back to your power."
Zero swallowed, then slowly took a seat.
"For the first time in a month," he thought, "I might have found a direction."
Zero sat down, the wooden chair creaking softly beneath him. The old man poured two small cups of tea, the steam rising in delicate swirls. The scent was strange calming, but with something sharp hidden underneath.
"Start from the beginning," the old man said. "Not the battle. Not the loss. Start with you."
Zero exhaled slowly. "I was trained...by someone who shouldn't have trained me. Someone everyone feared. Someone I thought I understood."
Zero clenched his hands. "We fought, and I lost everything that made me who I am. My strength, my fragments, my shadow balance… all scattered. I feel empty. Incomplete."
"And do you resent him for it?" the old man asked gently.
Zero hesitated. His lips parted, then closed again.
"...I don't know."
The old man nodded knowingly. "Good. Answer spoken too quickly are always lies."
The old man nodded slowly, as if understanding more than what Zero spoke. "Come with me. You need more than wandering streets and restless thoughts. You need discipline, guidance… training."
He didn't force the boy, only gestured toward a path behind the shop, leading to a small, secluded house hidden among trees. Zero followed silently, curiosity mixing with a strange sense of trust.
That evening, over a simple meal, conversation flowed cautiously. Zero asked about the Shadow Master.
"I know him," the old man said carefully, pausing before continuing. "Long ago, I crossed paths with someone very powerful... like your master. But our paths deviate. Now, I can only guide you."
Zero noticed a flicker in the man's eyes, a trace of memory that seemed to heavy, unspoken. Yet the old man said nothing more. Zero didn't press; he knew some truth had to be revealed at the right time.
The first day of training began at dawn.
Zero's body ached in ways he hadn't felt before. The old man instructed him to start with basic conditioning: climbing trees, running steep hills, punching and kicking sturdy logs, and testing his endurance by holding postures under the weight of his own body. Every movement was precise, every motion meant to build strength, speed, and resilience.
"You have power within," the old man said quietly as he watched Zero strike a solid trunk with his fist. "But strength without control is dangerous. You must learn to channel it… even in the simple of actions."
Hours passed. Sunlight shifted across the clearing, shadows dancing as Zero continued his exercises. By evening, he collapsed onto the grass, exhausted but determined.
"You are not ready yet," the old man remarked, helping him sit upright. "But today, you have taken the first step. Rest now. Tomorrow, we will move beyond this and I will show you skills that go beyond brute force."
Zero nodded, a quiet fire burning within him. The Tower, his lost fragments, the mysteries that awaited he would face them all, one step at a time.