The Strange Battle.

Varek steadied his breathing, his fingers tightening around his blade. The figure before him moved with an eerie fluidity, their presence a ghostly whisper against the wind. He knew he couldn't afford a single mistake. One misstep, one hesitation, and he would be on the ground.

The stranger's stance shifted, and Varek barely had time to react before they closed the distance between them. A blur of motion—a sweeping strike aimed at his ribs. He twisted his body, narrowly avoiding the blow, and countered with a quick thrust of his own. His blade met only air as the figure dissolved into shadow, reappearing behind him.

Too slow.

A heavy force struck his back, sending him sprawling onto the dirt. He gasped, rolling to avoid the follow-up attack that cracked the ground where he'd just been. His arms burned as he pushed himself up, sweat beading on his brow. His Vault thrummed within him, but he couldn't fully control its power yet. If he tried to use it recklessly, he would only exhaust himself faster.

"You're relying too much on your eyes," the figure said, their voice neither mocking nor kind. "Combat isn't about what you see. It's about what you feel."

Varek gritted his teeth. His body screamed in protest, but he forced himself to his feet. He needed to change his approach. Closing his eyes for just a moment, he took a deep breath and listened.

The wind rustled the trees. His own heartbeat pounded in his ears. And then—

A faint displacement of air to his right.

He spun, dodging just in time as a blade sliced through the space he'd occupied a second ago. This time, he didn't hesitate. He lashed out with his own attack, channeling a pulse of mana through his arms. His blade connected, forcing the figure to retreat a step.

A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

"Good," the stranger murmured. "You're learning."

Varek didn't answer. He couldn't afford to waste breath on words. Instead, he pressed forward, his strikes becoming sharper, his movements more fluid. The battle became a dance—one where every step, every motion, determined survival.

The figure remained relentless, but for the first time, Varek felt like he was beginning to keep up. He wasn't just reacting; he was predicting. The weight of his training, his father's lessons, his mother's wisdom—they all converged in this moment.

But the stranger was far from finished.

A surge of dark energy radiated from their form, the air thickening with unseen force. Varek braced himself as the pressure bore down on him, his legs threatening to buckle.

"Let's see if you're truly worthy," the figure said, their tone now laced with something deeper—something dangerous.

The ground cracked beneath them as they lunged forward, their speed doubling. Varek barely raised his blade in time, the force of the clash sending shockwaves through his arms. His feet dug into the dirt, his muscles screaming in resistance.

He had to hold on. He had to prove himself.

Varek steadied his breathing, his eyes locked onto the shadowy figure before him. His muscles burned from training, but the fire within him refused to wane. The presence before him wasn't just testing his strength—it was measuring his resolve.

The figure shifted, blurring into motion. This time, Varek didn't just react—he anticipated. He sidestepped the incoming strike, the gust of energy grazing past him. His mana surged, crackling like embers waiting to ignite. He willed it forward, shaping it into a concentrated force within his palm.

With a burst of energy, he lunged, his fist aiming straight for his opponent's chest. The impact connected—but instead of solid flesh, he felt resistance, like striking thick fog. The shadowy figure twisted, slipping through his grasp like smoke.

"Clever," the figure mused. "But not enough."

A pulse of energy exploded outward, sending Varek sprawling across the dirt. He rolled to his feet just in time to see the figure advancing, movements fluid like a predator closing in on its prey.

Varek wiped blood from his lip, grinning despite himself. He had never fought anyone like this before. His father's training had honed his reflexes, but this was different. This was a battle of wills, of instincts, of survival.

The figure struck again, their attack swift and unrelenting. Varek barely managed to deflect the blow with a hastily raised arm, the force sending shudders down his bones. He countered with a sweeping kick, forcing his opponent to retreat a step. It was a small victory, but he took it.

"You learn quickly," the figure admitted. "But can you adapt?"

Darkness coiled around them, tendrils of shadow slithering through the air. The pressure increased, a suffocating weight settling over the training field. Varek clenched his fists, forcing himself to stand tall despite the oppressive energy bearing down on him.

Then, the shadows attacked.

They lashed out in rapid succession, forcing Varek on the defensive. He ducked, weaved, and dodged, but the relentless onslaught chipped away at his stamina. One tendril struck his side, sending him crashing to the ground. Pain flared through his ribs, but he refused to stay down.

He gritted his teeth and tapped into his Vault, pulling every ounce of energy he had left. If he couldn't overpower his opponent, he would outthink them.

With a surge of mana, he leaped high into the air, twisting mid-flight. He extended his palm, releasing a burst of golden energy aimed directly at the ground. The impact kicked up a whirlwind of dust and debris, obscuring the battlefield.

The figure hesitated for the briefest moment. It was all Varek needed.

He struck from the side, his fist crackling with raw energy. This time, his attack connected with something solid. The figure staggered back, the shadows wavering around them.

A low chuckle escaped the figure's lips. "Interesting."

Varek steadied himself, chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. He didn't know who this person was or why they were testing him, but one thing was clear—they weren't here to kill him.

They were here to forge him.

"Enough." The figure raised a hand, and the shadows dissipated. "You've passed."

Varek blinked, still poised for battle. "What?"

The figure stepped forward, revealing their face at last. A man with sharp eyes and an amused smile. "You are stronger than you think, Varek. But strength alone will not be enough for what's coming."

Varek's breath hitched. "What do you mean?"

The man tilted his head, as if listening to something beyond Varek's understanding. Then, he met his gaze with a knowing look. "The world is about to change. And you will stand at the center of it."

A chill ran down Varek's spine. He had trained for battle, for survival—but something told him he was not ready for what lay ahead.

Yet, as the figure vanished into the night, one thought remained crystal clear in his mind.

He would be.