Chapter Thirty-Eight: Strength in the Flame

Twilight draped Training Ground Three at Verdant Crest Academy, the sky shifting to deep purple as the sun's final rays painted the packed earth in amber streaks. Dust settled slowly, stirred by the day's earlier clashes, as Roderic Vane stood bare-chested, boots rooted deep in the dirt, his red novice robe slung over a low stone wall like a discarded shadow. Sweat traced glistening paths down his lean, sun-kissed frame, trousers clinging low, dark hair damp and wild, hazel eyes burning with quiet resolve. Before him, charred wooden dummies stood silent, their straw guts spilling in faint trails, scars from his prior fire. Maris Veyle approached, her silver-gold robe catching the fading light, its fabric molding to her lithe, sculpted form, accentuating the graceful sweep of her hips and the subtle rise of her chest, hem brushing toned calves. Her pale skin shimmered, flawless under the dusk, platinum hair coiled in a sleek braid that swayed with each deliberate step, exuding authority and allure. Her ice and fire elements crackled faintly, a whisper of power that sharpened the air around her. Roderic's gaze lingered on her poised elegance, hips shifting with purpose, the Shattered Veil relic in his core thrumming softly, its dual pull a quiet echo he'd address later. Only he and Maris knew his Middle Initiate rank.

Maris halted, voice cutting clear. "Roderic, square your shoulders. Now, we forge your physical might. Qi demands a vessel—strength anchors your flame. An average cultivator wields the power of five men. You'll eclipse that, or you'll falter."

His lips curved, a relaxed smirk breaking his focus, voice smooth with a lazy drawl. "Five men? I've dragged boulders bigger than them back in Hearth Hollow. Show me, Elder."

Her eyes narrowed, voice crisp and unyielding. "Prove it, not boast it. Follow me."

She led him to a cluster of massive stone slabs, their rough surfaces gleaming under the twilight, each towering like a small hill. The field's edge held a scattering of figures—novices in red robes gripping staffs, adepts too pausing mid-sword swings, blades glinting, seniors in their robes slowing their strides, teachers in gray lingering at the margins. Their eyes fixed on the pair, silent and sharp, envy simmering in their stares, unblinking as they watched Maris's rare involvement with the novice. None grasped Roderic's true power, only his meteoric ascent fueling their resentment, her presence a silent spectacle that held them captive.

Maris pointed to a slab, voice firm. "Heave that. Channel qi through your limbs, your core—let it meld with muscle. Lift!"

Roderic crouched, boots crunching into the earth, fingers gripping the stone's edge. His lean frame tensed, muscles coiling as he strained, the slab groaning upward, sweat beading on his brow. The relic in his core flared, qi blazing like a furnace, amplifying his grip, the stone rising steadily, twice his height, trembling in his hold. His voice rumbled, low and resolute. "Grounded, Elder. It's fusing—qi and sinew."

"Deeper," she replied, voice sharp, circling him, robe whispering against the dust. "That's raw power, not finesse—dig in!"

He exhaled, legs quaking, slab steadying, voice calm. "Deeper? It's holding."

"Better," she said, voice steady, pausing ahead, hands on hips, chest subtly prominent. "Legs falter still—anchor them! Try again!"

He shifted, boots biting the dirt, slab rising higher, straw puffing from a nearby dummy as his qi shimmered, a faint ember in his palms. "Anchored now? Solid enough?"

"Solid's close," she said, voice bright, a faint smirk tugging her lips, robe fluttering. "Keep it fluid, no strain! Lift once more!"

Maris raised a hand, frost spiraling from her fingers, icing the ground beneath his boots to test his balance. "Hold steady, Roderic! Ice spares no one in combat."

He slid, boots skidding, then rooted, qi flaring, slab quivering, voice low. "Steady now? Ice won't break me."

"Fine," she said, voice bright, melting the frost with a flick of flame, robe rustling. "Fire now—sear that stone, weave your Flame Soul Art!"

He nodded, qi igniting, hands glowing amber, slab smoldering under his grip, straw igniting as flames licked outward. His voice was calm, eyes on her lithe form. "Searing now? Flow's tight?"

"Tight's good," she said, voice crisp, stepping back, calves flexing in his glance. "You're breaking through, finally! Talent's rare, but you lagged. I'm sharpening it, real work!"

Maris stepped closer, her icy breath brushing his neck as she adjusted his stance, fire flickering in her gaze, a subtle lure that stirred the relic's hum. She gestured, flames swirling around her fingers, heating the slab further, its surface glowing red. "Push through the heat, Roderic. Flow it, break that peak!"

He twisted, qi blazing, slab charring, voice steady. "Breaking it, feels right. You're pushing hard, why me?"

She paused, robe swaying, voice firm, hands on hips, chest forward. "Why you? Your spark's rare, untapped. You stalled, but I saw it. I'm here, forging you stronger. Lift again!"

He nodded, arms trembling, slab rising, flames roaring, voice low, gaze brushing her poised elegance. "Stronger? Worth it?"

"Worth it, yes," she said, voice loud, stepping near, robe skimming him. "Lift's precise, flow's clean. You're close, shatter that limit!"

He heaved, qi surging, slab glowing, flames licking higher, voice firm. "Flowing, shattering—I'll reach it!"

"Reach it, good," she said, voice clear, circling, robe whispering. "Your fire's yours, I'm honing it, practical! Don't waste this!"

She raised both hands, ice crackling in one, fire dancing in the other, weaving a dual aura that chilled and warmed the air. "Balance it, Roderic—ice to steady, fire to drive. Lift through both!"

He gritted his teeth, boots sliding on the frosted ground, slab trembling, qi splitting between frost and flame, voice strained yet steady. "Balancing, Elder. Ice holds, fire burns."

"Hold it," she said, voice sharp, robe fluttering as she watched, her braid swinging. "You're fusing it—strength and element, body and qi."

The slab shuddered, flames licking its edges, frost crusting its base, Roderic's frame quaking but resolute, relic pulsing hotter, a whisper of hunger in his core. His voice dropped, low and focused. "Fusing, holding—I've got it."

"Perfect," she said, voice bright, lowering her hands, ice and fire fading. "You're breaking barriers, Roderic. Rest now—drill your fire on the dummies after. I'll see your progress."

Hours later, Maris turned, robe catching the dusk, voice firm yet softer. "That's enough. Your flame's wild, but your frame's catching up. Practice it—dummies, fire, flow. I'll check your progress." Her braid swung, hips swaying as she strode off, ice and fire trailing faintly, leaving Roderic alone under the stars.

He faced the dummies, bare-chested, boots planted, qi igniting. His hands flared amber, flames blasting, wood blackening, straw erupting, voice low. "Flowing, burning—I've got it, Elder." The relic pulsed, core warming, ambition and a whisper of Maris fueling his qi, flames surging wilder, hazel eyes glinting with hunger. A faint shiver ran through his fingers, doubt creeping in. "this shard… it's ravenous."

The field fell silent, shadows stretching, his fire a beacon against the night, cultivation climbing, his secret strength a silent lure they all craved, their jealous stares burning into his back.