THE MEDITATION

Chapter 7: THE MEDITATION

The sun peeked gently over the horizon, casting golden hues across the training field. Birds chirped lazily in the distance, though their peaceful song was soon drowned out by the sounds of clashing energy. Dante and Ronan had been awake for hours, relentlessly pushing themselves through the early morning.

Ronan had begun to grasp the essence of his Flow—his fingertips now shimmered faintly with frost. Each breath he exhaled released a small wisp of icy air.

But Dante—he struggled.

"No matter how hard I try… nothing," Dante muttered, gritting his teeth.

Ban stood nearby, arms crossed. "It's alright. Thunder Flow, like darkness or light, isn't something you just command. It demands patience and understanding."

Dearg, lounging on a rock, snorted. "Heh. Not everyone's a frozen bird like your friend over there."

"What'd you say!?" Ronan snapped.

Dante, overhearing them, felt his motivation crack. Doubt crept into his heart again. Why am I always behind…?

"Come on, bitch, hurry up," Dearg jeered. "I got meat to eat."

"I'll eat it!" Ronan declared, reaching for the food.

"Shut up," Dearg barked. "You shouldn't eat—your Flow's weak."

"I swear, if you say one more—"

"Enough!" Ojjisan's voice rang out with authority. "You two. It's time to deepen your connection to Flow."

Dante blinked. "How?"

Ojjisan smiled. "Meditation."

"Meditation?" Ronan raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? What's that gonna do?"

Before he could protest more, Dearg grabbed Ronan by the collar and flung him across the field.

"Ahh! My back!" Ronan groaned.

Still groaning, the two boys settled into a cross-legged position on the ground. The sounds of wind and rustling trees became their only companions. Ban and Dearg watched closely, occasionally smacking them with sticks whenever they slouched or got distracted.

The day passed. Then another. No food. No water. Just silence, focus, and Flow.

Temptations came—Dearg mocked them, offered snacks, danced around them. Ban kept Ronan in line with precise strikes and strict discipline. But the boys endured.

Until finally…

Dante's eyes opened slowly. His body felt… different. Light. Energized.

He looked down—and gasped.

A gentle white aura surrounded him, swirling like mist in moonlight. His hands sparked with pure thunder Flow, stronger and more natural than ever before.

"I… I did it," he whispered.

Ban approached, his expression unusually serious. "Your Flow… it's awakened. That aura is rare—even among elites."

Meanwhile, Ronan stirred. "Ugh, what happened…?"

He looked at his own body—only to leap up with a scream. "What the hell!? I'm glowing!"

Dearg stared, mouth agape. "No way…"

"My body's flowing with Flow!" Ronan shouted with pride. "Look at this, Dearg!"

The silly beast tried to hide his surprise, but his stunned silence betrayed him.

Ban turned to Ojjisan. "Their training… it worked better than I expected."

Ojjisan nodded. "Dante's potential is remarkable. That aura… only the Chosen One can wield that kind of Flow so early."

Suddenly, a soft thud echoed.

Dante touched down from mid-air.

"Wait, did you just fly!?" Ronan gaped.

Dante smirked, offering a hand. "You'll get there."

As the two shared a laugh, somewhere far away in the city of Lato… a dark, swirling portal opened in the middle of an alley.

It vanished in an instant—but something had stepped through.

Back at the training ground, Ojjisan watched the boys with narrowed eyes.

The Chosen One… his journey has truly begun.