The sun's rays were striking Kaelen's face, who was half-dead from the intensity of his exhaustion and fatigue during his sleep.
He woke with a tired face, his hair messy as if the night had toyed with it mercilessly.
One eye closed and the other open… he rubbed the closed one lazily as if opening it were an impossible task.
He groaned in a low voice, then rolled onto his side trying to escape the morning light that seemed to him like a personal enemy.
"Damn…" he muttered hoarsely, his throat dry and his body heavy as if he hadn't slept at all.
He looked around the room slowly, as if his mind were still stuck between dream and reality.
The silent walls, the scattered table, and the cold air slipping from the edges of the window…
Then he directed his gaze toward the window, where the sun's rays pierced the curtain in sharp golden lines, as if reminding him that the day had begun… whether he wanted it or not.
He tossed his cover aside carelessly, and it fell to the floor with a faint sound.
He stood up slightly swaying, stretched his arms and yawned deeply, a sound of fatigue coming out of his chest more than his mouth.
He looked again at the warm bed he had been sleeping in.
A short moment of silence.
His eyes half-closed, as if whispering internally:
"I'll miss you…"
The warmth of the bed was tempting…
A temporary comfort from everything.
But…
The moment Kaelen remembered his goal, something in his eyes changed.
His back straightened.
That haze disappeared from his gaze.
The fatigue turned into silent sharpness.
He headed to the kitchen with steady steps, the echo of his footsteps filling the quiet apartment.
The floor was cold under his feet, but the cold of the floor was lighter than the cold that had slipped inside him since yesterday.
He stood in front of the sink and opened the tap.
The sound of running water broke the silence.
He leaned slightly, scooped water with his palms and splashed it on his face once… then again.
Drops of water slid from his forehead to his chin, falling to the floor without care.
He slowly lifted his head and looked at his reflection in the small mirror hanging above the basin.
He wiped his face with his sleeves carelessly, leaving a trace of dampness on the fabric.
He prepared himself and his clothes with simple precision, as if every movement were calculated.
He closed the door behind him quietly… then went out.
The sunlight struck his eyes suddenly, so he raised his hand above his head to block the light, closing his eyes for a moment until he got used to it.
He breathed deeply.
The air here was different… purer.
He slowly turned and looked behind him at the house.
And he realized, as every time, how truly beautiful it was.
The house was built inside a natural rocky hollow, as if the mountain had embraced it in its heart.
Layers of moss and wild plants covered it, stretching over the rocks and walls until distinguishing it from the surrounding nature became almost impossible.
Whoever passed by here might see it as merely an extension of the cliff… nothing more.
It was located on a slightly elevated area, overlooking a small spring that flowed gently between the rocks, its sound like a continuous whisper that never stopped.
A moment of silence.
Then he turned.
Kaelen walked with calm steps toward the spring, grass touching the edges of his shoes, and drops of dew glittering under the morning light.
When he arrived, he leaned slightly and looked at the surface of the water.
The reflection of his face formed over the light ripples.
His features looked sharper in the daylight… more serious.
He ran his hand through his hair for a moment, then gathered it back and tied it tightly, as if tying his hesitation with it as well.
That fatigue that had been in his eyes when he woke up faded.
Something else remained…
Focus.
His hand extended toward the water; his fingertips touched it.
Cold.
He moved away from the spring with steady steps, leaving behind the murmur of water and the whisper of wind.
He headed toward a cluster of dense trees at the edge of the rise, where the ground was firmer… and less merciful.
He stopped in front of a wide tree trunk, ran his gaze over the distance between it and him, then over the ground around him.
Perfect.
He took a deep breath.
"This will be the first training I'll do…"
He lowered his head slightly and closed his eyes for a few short seconds, as if diving inward.
Then he murmured quietly:
"…Aura."
The moment the word left his lips, the air around him changed.
A light vibration spread from his body, invisible yet perceptible…
Then it began gathering around his hands.
A silver aura appeared, shining but not bright, wrapping around his palms and fingers like living smoke.
It was not just light… it was energy.
He stared at the tree in front of him for a long time, its thick trunk steady… silent… defiant.
He wondered in a low voice:
"Will it hurt?"
He stepped forward, tightened his shoulders, then punched the tree with all his strength.
The sound of impact was strong… but the tree did not shake.
It did not break.
It did not crack.
And the strangest thing…
He did not feel pain.
He froze in place for a moment and looked at his fist.
Nothing.
No pain.
No sting.
No sensation.
He whispered in a low voice, as if reassuring himself:
"Good…"
Then he began punching the tree again and again, with all the strength he had.
Blow after blow.
His breathing quickened.
The aura flickered lightly around his hands.
The sound of impact echoed among the trees, but the trunk remained as it was… solid without a trace.
He finally stopped, his breaths heavy.
He looked at his hands.
And froze.
The skin was cracked.
The fists were swollen.
And blood was slowly running over his fingers.
He stepped back, his eyes widening in shock.
"What…?"
The pain was not there… but the damage was clear.
And suddenly—
Sensation began to return.
A prickling.
Then burning.
Then sharp pain as if thousands of needles were piercing his bones all at once.
He screamed unconsciously, like a small child who lost his balance:
"My hand! My hand—!"
He grabbed his trembling hands, then dashed running toward the spring.
He knelt beside it and plunged his hands into it.
The moment the water touched the wounds—
The pain ignited.
He gasped sharply, his teeth clattering together.
"Damn…!"
He drew a broken breath.
"I didn't feel anything at first…"
He looked at his reflection in the water, his face tense, his eyes unsettled.
Kaelen remained kneeling near the spring, clenching his teeth while the water eased some of the pain… or so he tried to convince himself.
Suddenly—
A faint rustling sound among the bushes behind him.
He froze.
He slowly raised his head, his breathing still uneven.
Drops of water fell from his trembling hands.
Heavier footsteps this time… branches breaking under some weight.
Then the bushes parted.
And Farouk appeared.
He was walking steadily, and on his back was the corpse of a sheep whose blood was still fresh, dripping in thin threads onto the ground behind him.
He stopped when he saw Kaelen.
His eyebrow rose.
"You're awake, boy!"
Farouk looked at the spring, and his eyes stopped at the color of the water.
It was no longer clear.
Thin red lines stretched with the current, blending quietly as if nature itself did not object.
He frowned.
"You've turned the water red…"
He slowly raised his gaze toward Kaelen.
"What were you doing?"
Kaelen followed his gaze.
He saw the blood dissolving in the water, gradually fading…
As if nothing had happened.
But his body began to feel something else.
A faint ringing in his ears.
His vision became unstable.
The trees looked as if they were tilting… or maybe he was the one tilting.
He tried to speak.
"I was just… I was…"
His words faltered.
The cold began creeping from his fingertips to his arms, then to his chest.
His breaths became short.
The sound around him grew distant… muffled.
He saw Farouk stepping toward him quickly, but the image was shaking.
The ground suddenly came closer.
Then—
He fell.
His body hit the soil near the spring, without resistance.
"Kaelen!"