The Weight of Memory

The sun hadn't yet risen.

Darkness still smothered the mountaintop, the wind howling through ancient pines like a mourning ghost.

Rai lay curled on the splintered floor of the dojo. His body was a battlefield — bruised, cut, trembling from cold and pain. But in the black silence before the next wave of torment, something warm slipped into his broken consciousness.

A memory.

The Night Before Everything Fell

He was five years old again.

The stars had just come out over the slums. His mother's hands gently ran through his hair, humming the lullaby she always sang. Her voice — cracked and weary — still managed to sound like peace.

"My little moon," she whispered, brushing away his tears,"You are made for more than this place. One day, you'll rise higher than even I can see."

His father — face still bruised from the last beating — knelt beside them, his voice deep but gentle.

"And when you're up there, Rai… don't carry our chains with you. Break them. All of them."

Rai looked up at them, small, fragile, innocent.

"Will I be strong, Papa?"

"No," his father said with a tired smile."You'll be unstoppable."

The memory faded.

And cold reality slammed back into him like iron.

Dawn on the Mountain: No Mercy Begins

"Wake up, weakling."

A wooden staff jabbed hard into his side.

Rai coughed, nearly vomiting from the shock. His body was screaming. But the white-haired young man stood above him, unaffected by the morning frost.

"Training begins now. If you can't stand, crawl. If you can't crawl, drag. Either way, you move."

Rai pushed himself upright, hands trembling. His vision swam.

All he could see was the man's shadow, tall and cold in the rising light.

First Task: The Mountain's Judgment

"Carry this rock to the top of the mountain. Run. If you stop, I throw you back down."

The "rock" was the size of Rai's chest, easily fifty kilos. His body cried out, but he clenched his teeth and lifted it.

Each step was a scream.His arms shook.His legs buckled.

But he moved.

One step.Then another.

Blood soaked through his bandages. His knees tore open. Every few steps he collapsed — but he crawled back up again, hoisting the stone like it was his purpose in life.

The white-haired man followed silently behind, never helping. Only watching. Cold and cruel.

Once, Rai slipped and rolled down several meters.

Instead of mercy, the man kicked him in the ribs and tossed the rock back onto his chest.

"Start again."

Second Task: Dodge or Die

Back at the dojo, Rai collapsed. But there was no rest.

"Next," the man said, tossing wooden blades across the floor."You dodge these. Miss even one, I hit twice as hard."

Rai barely had time to blink.

The man moved like lightning — slashes of wood coming from all sides. Rai was cut, cracked across the arms, ribs, even the jaw.

But he refused to stay down.

Eyes swollen, he forced himself up again and again.

Inner Monologue of the White-Haired Man

He watched Rai, sweat trailing down his jaw, emerald eyes unreadable.

"The boy's spirit… it's sickeningly familiar."

"Just like his grandfather. That insane drive. That cursed blood."

"Let's see how long that fire lasts when I burn him to ash."

End of the Day: A Step Closer to the Abyss

Rai collapsed at sunset, body broken, barely breathing.

But in his cracked, bleeding hands… he still held the wooden sword.

Even unconscious, he refused to let go.

"...He'll either die tomorrow…" the man muttered, turning away,"Or become something this world should fear."