With the Abbot gone, Ishu Chu stood hollow.
The village had always looked to him for wisdom, for calm, for strength—but now their eyes searched for a new anchor. And everyone knew who that anchor would be. Liwei Zhang, the Abbot's chosen disciple since birth, the most disciplined monk of his generation, a voice the village would follow even in the darkest storm.
He didn't feel ready.
But no one else could bear the weight.
The village gathered at dawn for the funeral, dressed in flowing whites or deep blacks. Silas, Deandre, Killian, and Liwei carried the Abbot's casket beside the spirit monks, their faces carved with grief. The air smelled of rain and incense. Not a single person spoke.
At his grave, the monks burned prayers to the God of Wind and Skies. Their chants rose softly, trembling from mourning.
And then, the sky, still heavy with gray, opened.
A warm beam of sunlight pierced the clouds, washing over the gathering. A gentle wind coiled around Liwei, brushing his hair, filling his lungs. The same sacred wind that once danced around the old Abbot.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Liwei blinked, sensing the shift in his soul.
The god had chosen him.
He would inherit the wind.
The wind took shape in the form of a man. It whispered into Liwei's ear and then floated away into the sky.
Liwei explained to us what it had told him.
There would be no trial.
His suffering had been trial enough.
Liwei returned to the training grounds with a fire in his chest. One born from guilt, not heat. It had been four days since the funeral. Four days too long he told himself.
He pushed Silas and Dre harder than ever.
He pushed himself hardest of all.
Training dummies shattered under each strike of his new wind-infused blows. Sweat dripped from his face. Every failure replayed behind his eyelids.
If only I had seen through the traitors...
If only I had awakened sooner...
If only...
Nearby, Silas and Dre clashed in brutal sparring. Soldiers watched uneasily.
"These three are going crazy today."
"They blame themselves."
"We all do. We didn't see those traitors either."
"And now the Abbot is dead because of it... If that lightning kid hadn't shown up when he did? We'd be dead too."
"Poor kid... locked in his room since the funeral..."
Killian had been sitting in his new room since the funeral; he hadn't spoken a word to anyone.
He ate in silence. Thought in silence. Slept only in short, restless bursts.
He saw the men he killed every time he closed his eyes.
He heard their screams. He felt the electricity burning through him again, wild and uncontrolled.
He wanted to go home, even if there wasn't anyone there.
Anything felt better than this.
Anything felt safer than what he had become.
But hiding wasn't helping.
And something inside him whispered:
You have to face it, or it will control you.
So, he dragged himself to the Abbot's training room.
He descended down the stairs, remembering the moments before the harsh training. When he reached the bottom, he ran his fingers over the polished floor, remembering slipping and sliding with Dre, laughing through hardship. The memory pulled a small smile from him.
He pushed the button.
Ten dummies entered from the gates.
He readied himself—
—or tried to.
His powers didn't answer.
"Come on... please..."
A dummy rushed forward and punched him square in the jaw.
Killian crumpled. More piled on him, swinging relentlessly.
He curled into himself, teeth clenched.
He felt shame, fear, rage.
And then—
FWOOM.
Wind exploded from his body, launching the dummies into the walls.
The world blurred—
shifted—
changed.
Killian opened his eyes to a dead field.
Brown grass. Leafless trees. Cold air. An endless gray sky ready to collapse.
Just like the start of his trial—
but wrong.
Hollow. Dying.
A deep voice echoed from above:
"Why are you angry?"
Killian looked up.
His guardian descended, towering and familiar. Killian still refused to call him a god, it clashed with everything he believed.
"I failed," Killian said, voice cracking. "He took me in... trained me... he trusted me. And I couldn't save him."
The guardian surprised him.
He knelt.
Lowered himself to Killian's eye level.
Grinned.
"You know what? You are a failure."
Killian froze.
"A nobody. A kid who should give up, stay in this dead field forever... right?"
"Wrong."
His smile softened, showing through his long hair.
"You came into a world with nothing. You fought for your friends. You survived a trial that I know would break grown men, much less kids your age. And you killed only when you had no choice."
He tapped Killian's forehead gently with one giant finger.
"But this version of you?
Curled up on the ground?
That is a loser.
And I don't give powers to losers."
Killian's tears fell silently.
He stared up at the dark sky so the guardian wouldn't see.
But of course, he did.
"You're scared because you're human," the guardian said. "Because killing is not easy. Because you care."
Then he stood and placed a heavy, reassuring hand on Killian's shoulder.
"You must choose your path.
Become strong enough that you never need to kill—
or accept the rules of this world."
The world around them began fading.
"But whatever you choose..."
His voice echoed as the field dissolved.
"...I'll be watching, Mr. Kingston."
Killian blinked—
—and was back in the training room.
Thirty dummies surrounded him.
His lightning flared.
Wind roared.
Fire ignited.
He tore through the dummies in a storm of controlled precision, forcing himself to stay calm even as ten more rushed him.
They pinned him.
Old fear rushed in.
No... not again...
"Control yourself."
His guardian's voice thundered in his mind.
Killian inhaled—
exhaled—
and unleashed everything in a focused blast. Wind blew the dummies away. Fire spears pierced their chests.
He slammed the stop button and collapsed against the wall, chest heaving.
He thought of the man in the hood. The traitor. The spy.
The village that sent them.
"They'll attack again," he whispered. "They have to."
A cold certainty filled him.
He wouldn't wait for it. He'd have to meet them head-on.
But first he'd need to help restore Ishu Chu.
Strengthen its people.
And then—
Killian tightened his fist.
He'd take the fight to Mechu.
They had struck first. Now it was his turn.
He hit the button to start the next wave of dummies and readied himself. He needed to prepare if he wanted to take down Ihuoin Mechu.
And save the village.