Lanthaba's consciousness returned slowly, like someone rising from deep water.
At first, there was only weight. His body felt heavy, as if every muscle had been emptied of strength. A faint ringing lingered in his ears. He tried to move his fingers, but even that small motion felt unfamiliar.
Then the dream came back to him.
He was standing in a quiet courtyard. The sky was pale, neither day nor night. In front of him stood his grandfather.
The old man looked exactly as he always had — calm eyes, steady posture, hands clasped behind his back. But he was not alone.
A tall man stood opposite him. Lanthaba could not see the man's face clearly, as if a thin mist covered it. The man's presence felt sharp and observant.
"What about the boy?" the stranger asked.
His voice was not loud, but it carried weight.
Grandfather did not hesitate, yet he did not answer directly either.
"He is only a child," he replied calmly. "There is nothing for you to concern yourself with."
The unknown man remained silent for a moment.
Lanthaba wanted to step forward, to ask what they were talking about, but he could not move. It was as if he were only an observer inside the dream.
After a long pause, the stranger turned and walked toward the gate.
Grandfather did not relax immediately. He watched carefully, standing still until the man passed through and disappeared from sight. Even then, he remained there, as if waiting to ensure the man was truly gone.
Only after several breaths did his grandfather quietly exhale in relief.
The courtyard trembled.
Everything dissolved.
Lanthaba's eyes shot open.
He inhaled sharply and stared at the ceiling above him.
White.
Plain.
Familiar.
He blinked several times and slowly turned his head. A desk stood beside the wall. A small bookshelf near the window. Curtains half-open, allowing afternoon light to enter.
"I'm… at the university," he murmured.
Relief settled into his chest.
He pushed himself upright, though a dull ache lingered through his limbs. His memory returned in fragments — the battle, the Thawai user, the exhaustion that swallowed him.
Suddenly he remembered Yaikhomba.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up carefully. After steadying himself, he walked toward the door and opened it.
The smell of food drifted into his room.
He froze.
In the small kitchen area stood Miss Kondonglei.
She was calmly stirring something in a pot, her long hair tied neatly behind her back.
Lanthaba stared at her, stunned.
Wait… am I in Miss Kondonglei's room? Did I sleep in her bed?
His thoughts spiraled.
Kondonglei turned her head slowly and looked at him.
"Are you wondering why you are in my room?" she asked, her tone unreadable.
Lanthaba's eyes widened.
So I am in her room?!
Before panic could fully form, she added, "You are not. This is your room."
He blinked repeatedly and looked around again.
The arrangement was indeed his.
Embarrassment flushed through him.
"Oh."
Kondonglei returned to cooking as if nothing unusual had happened.
"Why are you here, Miss?" Lanthaba asked respectfully.
"I am making food for you and Yaikhomba."
"Yaikhomba?!" Lanthaba's voice sharpened with worry. "Is he alright?"
"He is perfectly fine," she replied. "He recovered earlier than you."
Lanthaba hesitated before asking the question that bothered him most.
"How long was I unconscious?"
"Five days," she said calmly. "And half an hour."
Five days.
He clenched his jaw slightly. The battle had drained him more than he realized.
Kondonglei finished cooking and placed the dishes neatly on the table.
"Eat. Yaikhomba will explain the upcoming event."
"Event?" Lanthaba muttered.
She gave no further explanation and left the room quietly.
The clock on the wall read 12:50 PM.
Not long after, the door opened again.
Yaikhomba rushed inside, his eyes slightly red. He immediately bowed deeply.
"I'm sorry!" he said. "It's my fault you got hurt!"
Behind him, Sorel Yaipokpa entered with his usual composed expression.
"Is he still injured from the battle?" Sorel asked calmly.
"I'm fine," Lanthaba answered firmly. "Really."
Yaikhomba straightened but still looked guilty.
"Miss Kondonglei mentioned an event," Lanthaba said. "What event?"
Yaikhomba's expression changed as he remembered.
"The Rumbling Competition," he said. "It will be held on 15/08/17. On Independence Day."
Lanthaba frowned.
"Why on Independence Day? It usually happens afterward."
Sorel crossed his arms.
"After the mission in Challong Hills, there was abnormal activity in that area."
Lanthaba felt tension in the air.
"A member of the Taiyai family is missing," Sorel continued. "Taiyai Mitamcha."
Lanthaba's eyes widened slightly.
A sorcerer of that level… missing?
"Wasn't his Thawai trace found?" he asked.
"No," Sorel replied. "His Thawai trace vanished completely. The only thing discovered was Sagoi Uchek — his Pitbull spirit. It was grieving."
Silence filled the room.
Lanthaba processed the information slowly.
"So the competition?" he asked again.
Yaikhomba nodded.
"It starts at 10:00 AM on 15/08/17 and ends the next day. It will be held in the hills of Senapati District. Students must survive against other sorcerers and Lairois in the area."
"Survive?" Lanthaba repeated. "Is this a death game?"
Sorel shook his head.
"No. Master Taibang Sana Heithoiba created a Leikot Barrier. If a student surrenders, they are teleported instantly to the nurse room. Even if an opponent refuses to stop, the barrier forces teleportation."
He continued, "The purpose is growth. We must prepare the next generation to protect Meeyoileipak and Thawai Leipak."
Lanthaba nodded slowly.
"So who will train us?"
"You will train under Nara Konsam," Sorel replied. "He has worked as an Awakened Sorcerer for thirty years. He will teach you the Mi Technique."
At exactly 3:00 PM, Lanthaba and Yaikhomba stood at the training ground behind the university.
The air was cool. The hills stretched in the distance.
A man approached them casually.
He wore a white T-shirt, black jockey cap, and dark trousers. His appearance was simple, almost ordinary.
He stopped in front of them.
"So," he said calmly, "you are the students?"
"Yes," they replied together.
Nara Konsam studied them for a moment.
"First question," he said. "Do you both know how to cook?"
They exchanged confused looks.
"Yes."
"Good," Nara nodded. "Then you understand balance."
He stepped closer.
"Mi Technique is not about showing strength. It is about movement. Learn to reflect. Learn to dodge. Learn to adapt."
Without warning, he moved.
He lightly pushed Lanthaba's shoulder. Lanthaba attempted to block, but Nara shifted his weight and tapped his knee. Lanthaba lost balance instantly.
"Too stiff," Nara said.
He turned to Yaikhomba and attacked just as suddenly. Yaikhomba jumped back, but exposed his center.
Nara stopped inches from his chest.
"Dodging without awareness creates openings."
He demonstrated a controlled tightening of muscles.
"This is Body Maculation," he said calmly. "Not full activation. Only alignment."
Then his posture changed.
He lowered himself slightly, movements fluid and controlled.
"Fauna Adaptation," he explained. "Observe animals. A predator wastes no motion. A bird never overcommits."
He moved lightly across the ground, weight shifting seamlessly.
"You will practice until your body reacts before your mind."
The training began.
They repeated movements again and again.
Reflect.
Dodge.
Adapt.
The sun slowly lowered behind the hills.
Sweat soaked their clothes. Muscles trembled from repetition.
But neither Lanthaba nor Yaikhomba stopped.
The Rumbling Competition was approaching.
And somewhere in Senapati District, something unknown stirred quietly.
As the sky turned orange, Nara folded his arms.
"This is only the beginning," he said.
Lanthaba straightened his posture, breathing heavily but steadily.
For the first time since waking, he felt clear.
Whatever awaited them in the hills—
He would be ready.