The Four Fundamentals II

Two hours later, the clearing was still and quiet—except for the sound of controlled breathing.

Elion exhaled slowly, eyes closed, pulse steady. A faint shimmer of aura flickered under his skin like a calm current humming just beneath the surface. Across from him, Jordan sat cross-legged, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. Sweat rolled down his temple. His aura, while rougher, pulsed with steady rhythm—less a gentle current and more like distant thunder rolling in.

Ronan stood nearby, arms folded, gray eyes watching with rare stillness. Finally, he broke the silence.

"I'll be honest," he said, voice low but clear. "I expected progress. Not a miracle."

Elion opened his eyes.

Ronan didn't smirk. Didn't gloat. Just gave a slow, single nod—the kind of nod you gave when words weren't enough.

"What you've done in two hours," Ronan said, "is something most Slayers take weeks to grasp. Some never do."

Jordan cracked one eye open. "Okay, now I feel attacked."

Ronan ignored that. He stepped closer to Elion. "You didn't just activate Pulse. You mastered it. Fully. Calm circulation, refined control, zero instability."

He paused. "I rarely hand out praise, Elion. But you're not just a natural. You're a monster."

Elion blinked. "Thanks?"

"That's a compliment," Ronan added flatly. "From me, that might as well be poetry."

Then, his tone shifted slightly—curious, edged with something unreadable. "You must've noticed something else."

Elion tilted his head. "You mean… the way I could feel your aura? And Jordan's?"

Ronan's eyes narrowed with interest. "So you did catch it."

Jordan straightened. "Wait. What are we talking about now?"

Elion nodded, already answering. "After I grasped Pulse, I started sensing more than myself. Jordan was the first. Then you. After that… I started scanning everything I could. Tree branches, squirrels, birds… even the rocks had some sort of low vibration."

Jordan looked lost. "I mean, yeah… I felt something, maybe? But I couldn't tell what it was. Just like… static."

Ronan turned to him. "Then you're almost there. Static means your awareness is waking up. You're only a few steps away from clarity."

He turned, scanning both of them. "This isn't just a bonus skill. Once you refine this, you'll be able to detect attacks before they land, block hits from blind spots, and sense killing intent like a sixth sense. No one sneaks up on a Slayer who's mastered Pulse."

Jordan nodded slowly. "Okay, yeah. That sounds worth the headache."

Ronan gave a satisfied nod. Then, he raised a hand—and, with a flick of his wrist, summoned two small objects from his dimensional ring.

Wooden rabbits.

They weren't crudely made. In fact, they looked almost too perfect—smoothly carved with unnatural symmetry, each the size of a house cat. Elion narrowed his eyes, already suspicious.

Ronan placed one rabbit right in front of Elion and the other the same distance from Jordan.

"These are your next opponents," he said.

Jordan blinked. "...The bunnies?"

Before Ronan answered, he made a sharp hand sign. His aura surged for half a second, then lashed out—two thin streaks of energy shooting into the rabbits.

The wooden creatures twitched. Then, jolted to life.

They bolted—sprinting through the clearing in erratic, zigzagging patterns like prey on full alert.

"Elion?" Ronan said without turning. "Figured it out yet?"

Elion nodded slowly. "They're reacting to aura."

Ronan smirked. "Exactly."

"Dude, how can you guess that?" Jordan asked. He was still thinking about what was happening, but Elion already had an answer prepared for it.

Both Ronan and Elion chuckled, but they did not choose to answer, or they didn't know how to answer Jordan.

Ronan looked straight at the two of them now. "This is your next training—Veil. The Concealment."

He paced between them as the rabbits darted around the clearing.

"To catch them, you'll need more than speed. More than strength. You need control. Suppress your aura. Dull your breath. Quiet your thoughts. Make your presence so calm, so low, that even magic can't detect you."

Jordan raised a hand. "So… like stealth mode?"

"Stealth mode," Ronan said dryly, "with spiritual stakes. If you chase recklessly, they'll outrun you. If your aura flares, they'll sense it. But if you learn to veil your presence—fully—you'll get close enough to catch them."

Elion was already crouched, eyes locked on his target.

Jordan watched his rabbit hop in nervous bursts. "So if I move like a ghost… I win?"

"Yeah. If it sounds simple to you, do it. "Ronan's smirk returned. "Move like a ghost, breathe like mist, and think like you're not even here."

Then he gave one last nod. "Begin."

After ten minutes, the clearing was filled with the not-so-glorious sounds of frustration, dry footsteps, and wooden rabbits sprinting like their enchanted lives depended on it.

Which, to be fair, they kind of did.

Elion crouched low, muscles coiled, his breathing steady—too steady. His aura was smooth, his movement precise…, but the moment he got within three meters, the rabbit twitched and bolted like he'd screamed at it.

He exhaled through his nose. Again.

Same result.

Not far off, Jordan was failing with the elegance of a wrecking ball. He tried crawling. He tried side-shuffling. At one point, he even tried belly-sliding through the grass like a soccer goalie on a sugar high. The rabbit didn't just run—it practically somersaulted over a log and vanished into the underbrush.

"Oh, come on!" Jordan groaned, rolling onto his back with a puff of dirt. "I'm being super sneaky!"

"No, you're being super loud," Ronan said, finally speaking up from where he leaned against a nearby tree. Arms crossed. One eyebrow raised. Classic judgment pose.

He pushed off the bark and strolled toward them, boots soft against the forest floor. "Let's review."

He pointed at Jordan first. "You. You're trying to stealth like it's a game. You're too excited. Your aura is bursting at the seams. You might as well be ringing a dinner bell."

Jordan groaned again, dragging a hand down his face.

Ronan turned to Elion. His tone didn't change, but the way his eyes narrowed just a little… was worse than yelling.

"And you," he said. "You're doing everything right… except you're not."

Elion blinked, caught off guard.

"You're trying to be perfect. You're pushing too hard. You think because you mastered Pulse, you have to keep the streak going. You want it fast, clean, efficient—because being a 'great Slayer' suddenly sounds better than being a 'genius,' doesn't it?"

Elion didn't answer.

He didn't need to.

Ronan took a slow breath and let it out through his nose.

"That want? That fire? It's good. But it leaks. The rabbits feel it. Every time you reach, your aura pulses with pressure—not malice, not danger, but expectation. You're radiating the need to succeed. That's not concealment. That's projection."

Elion's fists clenched slightly, but he nodded.

Ronan shrugged. "Veil isn't about control. It's about stillness. You want to disappear?" He pointed at the forest around them. "Then become part of this. No ego. No hunger. No rush."

He stepped back again, folding his arms, voice calm.

"You've both got the tools. Now drop the pride and start again."

Then he said nothing more.

Just the wind.

And the rabbits—waiting, twitching.

***

Back in the city, far from the forest and training ground, a different kind of storm was brewing. Inside a modest but comfortable house, the living room was filled with the low hum of the news. The volume had been muted, but the headline at the bottom of the screen screamed loud enough.

"XYLO CLUB MASSACRE – TWO YOUNG MEN WANTED FOR QUESTIONING"

Katherine Walker stood frozen, her eyes locked on the screen. Her breath hitched.

"Jordan…" she whispered, almost inaudibly.

She turned sharply, pacing the room. Her fingers trembled as she clutched her phone. No new messages. No missed calls. Nothing.

"I told you," she snapped suddenly, voice rising. "I told you I never liked him being friends with Elion."

Kieran sat across from her, still in his business slacks, arms folded, trying—failing—to look calm. The news report had just flashed Elion and Jordan's faces across the screen. Grainy footage. "Dangerous individuals." His jaw tightened.

"They're saying he's a suspect, Kieran. A suspect. Our son!" Katherine shouted.

"Honey—"

"No. Don't 'Honey' me. I warned you, didn't I?" she went on, her voice cracking. "That boy… I knew he'd bring trouble. Just like his father always dragged you into things you barely walked away from!"

The room fell still.

Kieran slowly lowered his book, the light in his eyes dimming into something darker. For a moment, the warmth left him.

"Don't," he said quietly. "Don't talk about David like that."

Katherine stopped pacing, her breath shallow.

"I know he always dragged me into madness," Kieran continued, voice firmer now. "But I chose to go. Every single time. Not because I had to. Because I wanted to. I love the thrill and that madness."

Her lips parted to argue, but Kieran wasn't done.

"You think I followed him for danger? No. I followed him because he never turned his back on anyone—not even when he should've. And when our son…" His voice faltered just slightly. "When Jordan was barely clinging to life? Everyone gave up. Everyone. Except him."

"You remember how broken we were," he said. "We waited five years for him. Five. And then… David showed up."

Katherine's anger cracked, and something softer peeked through—uncertainty. Regret.

"He said his blood could help," Kieran continued, rising from his seat. "The doctors laughed in his face. Called it delusional. 'Dangerous.' You remember what they said."

He paused before adding, "But David didn't care. He didn't wait for permission. He drew that circle—this glowing golden magic, I still don't know how to describe it—and cut his own arm open like it was nothing."

Katherine sat down slowly, eyes wide.

"He said it wasn't just blood," Kieran said, sitting beside her now. "It was part of his soul. That he was buying Jordan time, life—whatever it took. Even if it meant he couldn't stay around for long."

Katherine's hands shook. Memories flooded back—Jordan, barely days old. Wires, beeping machines, doctors with tired eyes, and no hope. And then David, stepping in like something out of legend.

She remembered every single action and second of it. That was the day she found out about David's biggest secret. He didn't care about her knowing as long as he could save Jordan. The worst part, Jordan was the reason that David could not stay around longer for his own family.

"You know why we've made it this far?" Kieran added. "This house? That amount of money in savings you keep guarded like gold? The side job that turned into a real opportunity?"

Katherine was silent again.

Kieran continued, "David. He made it all happen—quietly, behind the scenes. We never asked, but he always helped. That's the kind of man he is."

Katherine swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper now. "I just… I was scared. I didn't want Jordan to end up like—"

"Like David?" Kieran cut in gently this time. "The man who gave up everything so our son could live?"

There was no malice in his tone. Only truth.

Katherine exhaled and dropped her face into her hands.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I shouldn't have said those things."

Kieran smiled faintly and placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's alright. Fear makes us say stupid things."

He exhaled and took his time. "But let's make it the last time we say such a thing about David, about our son, and about Elion."

Katherine nodded slowly.

Then, Kieran chuckled softly. "Besides, if what David said is true, we've got nothing to worry about."

She looked up at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"He didn't lie when he said part of his soul was given to Jordan." Kieran leaned back, his eyes distant now, a smile tugging at his lips. "He told me once—before he left—that Jordan wouldn't be ordinary. That sharing a part of his soul with our son meant Jordan would be blessed in ways we couldn't imagine. Strong in body. Strong in life."

Katherine blinked, tears lining her lashes. "You think that's why he's always been... different?"

Kieran nodded. "Different doesn't have to mean bad. Not when it comes from someone like David."

For a moment, they sat in silence—just the muted TV and the weight of memory between them.

Then Katherine whispered, "Do you think David will ever come back?"

Kieran looked at her.

"Only if the worlds let him," he said quietly. "And knowing David… he's probably out there, making sure they don't fall apart."