chapter 12 : Formation (2)

Érikan had barely caught his breath after the infernal morning training when a light gust of wind lifted grains of dust around him. And in that airy swirl… Lia appeared.She stood there, radiant, as if the wind itself had carried her. Her large, bright eyes lit up when she saw him.— Good morning, Érikan! Oh… but what's this? It looks like you've changed since earlier. Gained ten years of muscle in two hours? Hmm… Interesting. No time for small talk, follow me!She didn't even wait for his reply. With a barely perceptible motion of her hand, she gestured. Érikan felt the air around him thicken, tightening gently. And without her touching him, he was lifted, carried by a soft but firm pressure.

It was strange. The air enveloped him like an invisible caress. He had never felt anything like it. Weightless… he almost felt like a cloud. No physical contact. Just a natural, fluid force that transported him.

He cast one last glance at Yvnir and Yorr. The two giants watched them drift away, arms crossed, wearing expressions somewhere between annoyance and resignation.— I can't wait to see Lia's face after spending some time with that kid, muttered Yvnir with a smirk.Yorr slowly shook his head.— She's going to regret volunteering for this…But already, Érikan and Lia were swept away by the wind.

A few minutes later, they landed gently on a vast stretch of hard sand, at the edge of what looked like a training ground… or rather a battlefield for acrobatic lunatics. Upright poles, metal bars, taut ropes, suspended nets… but most importantly, everywhere, hidden traps. Spring devices, moving platforms, tilting mechanisms.Érikan stared in disbelief.

Lia crossed her arms and turned to him, a half-sadistic, half-playful smile on her face.— Before you can dance with mana… you must first learn to walk without sound, run without falling, fall without getting hurt… and move without thinking, she said in a near-singing tone.

A dry breeze whistled through the course. The air was thick with salt. The sun, relentless, beat down from above, turning every grain of sand into a burning blade. Before them, a vast, barren beach, without a single shadow. The golden ground radiated heat, and the distant waves shimmered like a mirage.

Érikan frowned, a bead of sweat already rolling down his temple.Something in him knew that what lay ahead was no mere warm-up. This wasn't just a training field. It was a test. A purgatory. A rite of passage.And Lia, behind her bright eyes and innocent smile, had just turned into a silent judge of his courage.

The wind continued to sweep across the naked beach, carrying with it a raw, briny scent. Érikan stood with knees slightly bent by instinct, heart pounding wildly. The sand beneath his feet felt alive, searing. He was far from the cool shade of the manor, far from his parents' reassuring presence. Everything here felt bigger, harsher, more real.

Lia, unfazed, walked forward. Her light step contrasted with the weight of her words.— Look closely, Érikan.Her voice was calm, steady, but carried a strange gravity. It sounded like she was reciting an old forgotten chant, a warrior's prayer.— This isn't a beach. It's an arena.The young boy frowned. An arena…?— The ground here judges, the sea erases the weak, and the wind carries off those without roots.

A chill ran down his spine. She spoke as if the world itself had become an adversary. As if every element — earth, water, air — was ready to test his will.

Lia raised her arm. Her finger traced an invisible line that wound through the landscape. Érikan followed the motion with his eyes. This was no ordinary terrain. It was a course. A trial. He didn't fully understand it yet, but something deep inside him, an ancient intuition, whispered: here, you will change.

— You'll start here. Barefoot. Knees bent.Érikan looked down. The sand practically glowed, radiating visible heat. He thought he saw the light shimmer, as if the ground were breathing — burning with a discreet but merciless fire.— In front of you, a hundred meters of white-hot sand. But low-hanging ropes, stretched from end to end, will force you to run crouched.He followed the line of ropes. So fine they vibrated in the wind like harp strings. Yet they imposed a massive constraint. He'd have to crawl, run folded in half, over that furnace.— Each step will be a bite. Each breath, a betrayal. You'll move forward… or you'll burn.

A lump rose in his throat. I'm supposed to cross that?

Lia pointed further ahead, where a dune rose. But it was neither soft nor smooth. Stones jutted out like the fangs of a beast. None looked stable. None looked safe.— You'll climb that. Without your hands. You'll feel the stones slip, twist, elude you.Without hands? Érikan's eyes widened. He couldn't believe it. This was planned torture. A trap at every step.— And from the top, projectiles will fall. Not to hurt you… but to disrupt your mind. If you fall… you start over.The slope was steep. The rocks seemed alive, treacherous. Érikan felt his throat tighten. He could already imagine himself slipping, tumbling, scraping his legs, starting over again and again.

From the dune's summit, a rope bridge stretched between two cliffs. Long, narrow, twisting in the gusts. The wind howled through the ropes, like an ancient spirit.— This bridge is alive. The wind will speak to you. It will shove you.Tiny bells hung at regular intervals. They tinkled softly, a constant reminder.— If even one rings… you turn back.Érikan swallowed hard. Every step must be silent. Thoughtless.— You'll move slowly, until no thoughts remain… only motion.Lia lowered her voice.— Many fail here. Not because they fall. But because… they can't move anymore.

He shivered. The fear of paralysis. The terror of being stuck, unable to advance. He knew it… all too well.

Below, at the foot of the cliff, the sea raged. The tide crashed against the shore violently. Wooden stakes were planted in the wet sand, like a deadly game.— You'll have only a moment between waves.Érikan already pictured himself leaping from stake to stake, water grazing his ankles, ready to suck him down with any misstep.— Each stake is slippery. Each wave is unpredictable. You won't have time to think. You must… react.The surf pounded like a drum. Érikan felt his heart syncing to it, drumming in his chest.

Beyond the ocean, a strange circle. Ropes, nets, suspended beams, rotating elements… everything looked chaotic, moving, alive.— This is where your body must speak without you.Some holds were coated in clay. Others slick. Spinning bars. Nets that quivered at the slightest pressure.— You'll climb, slide, crawl, jump.There was no marked path. Just a shifting maze.— If you hesitate, you'll fall. If you force it, you'll fail. If you listen… you'll pass.Érikan inhaled deeply. His body already reacted, muscles slightly tensed. It's a dance… a listening…

Finally, in a secluded cove, a single flat rock stood above the waves, battered by wind and spray.— This is the final trial. You'll climb it. Alone. And you'll stand. In silence.No timer. No rules. Just him… and the world.— If you fall… you'll start again from the beginning.A heartbeat. Silence. The echo of waves against the cliffs.— But if you stand… then maybe… something within you will awaken.

Lia stepped back. The wind whipped through her hair, giving her a wild, ethereal aura. She smiled — a genuine smile, but one with no pity.— This is your path, Érikan.He couldn't speak. His throat was tight. Hands clammy. Heart… ready to burst.— You won't conquer it with your arms. You'll have to leave behind… everything you think you know about yourself.

Érikan stood frozen, eyes locked on the golden hell stretching out before him. This first course… It was madness. A burning desert, lined with ropes just above ground, forcing him to run crouched like a fugitive. His heart pounded wildly. A voice inside screamed:"Impossible. Not for the current you."And yet, he knew. Oh yes, he knew. He understood now why his father insisted so much on training the body. Why raw talent wasn't enough. Without a solid frame, without a body that could endure, he'd never reach his dreams. This trial… wasn't just physical. It was a judgment. A mirror. And he refused to see a weak child in that reflection.So he inhaled. Deeply. And he launched himself forward.

The Ordeal Begins

From the very first step, the pain was brutal. The white-hot sand bit into the soles of his feet. The ground seemed to roar beneath him, as if trying to reject his presence. Running crouched? A nightmare.

His thighs screamed from the first seconds. His calves tightened like ropes ready to snap. Each stride kicked up a cloud of burning sand. His breath became erratic. And yet…

He clenched his teeth. Every step, every inch gained, was a victory against himself.

— What the hell… what is this madness… I feel like I'm going to die…

The words escaped his throat without permission. The wind carried them away. His body begged to stop. To scream. To collapse. But something deep inside him… refused.

The Inner Struggle

A war raged within. On one side, total exhaustion, fire in his muscles, unbearable pain with every movement. On the other, a flame. Small, but fierce. A raw, primal will.

"Give up… you can't take any more…"

"Keep going. Don't stop. Crawl if you have to. But don't stop."

Every step was torment. And yet a challenge — hurled directly at the pain itself. He wanted to prove something. To Lia. To his parents. To himself. He wanted to scream to the world that he was alive. That he could become strong.

Yes, he was just a child. But he would crush that weakness. Even if it meant breaking every bone in his body. He would go to the end. Even if he had to conquer himself, fall, and rise again.

What the Others Saw

From afar, all one could see was a child no taller than 1.40 meters, trembling, legs buckling, skin red from the sun, arms limp. His face was distorted with agony, lips cracked, breath wheezing. He looked like he might collapse at any moment.

But his eyes… told a different story.

A glint of madness. A determined fire. A silent vow: I won't fall before I finish.

The Doubt, Then the Rule

He almost cracked. Just for a second. He considered activating his resonance. Then he remembered: no mana allowed. Just him, his flesh, and his will.

— Move or die. There are only two choices…

Time vanished. His thoughts dissolved in the heat. Only the idea of advancing remained. One foot. Then the other. Again. And again.

The Finish Line

He no longer knew how long he had been running. His body was nothing but a mass of painful flesh, soaked in sweat, muscles swollen and torn. His skin burned. His lungs begged for mercy.

But he reached the end.

His legs gave out. He collapsed onto the sand, gasping, eyes fixed on the sky, blinded by the sun.

One breath. Then a familiar voice.

— Well done, kid. Honestly, I thought you'd give up before the end.

Érikan slowly turned his head. Lia stood nearby, arms crossed, a discreet smile on her lips.

— Your mental strength is already impressive. We'll stop here for today.

He didn't even have the strength to reply.

— Go see Salmi. she'll take care of your injuries. Oh, and by the way — Nour is planning to start martial arts training as soon as I'm satisfied with your movements… and your body's a little more… developed.

Érikan tried to get up, staggered.

— Uh… how do I get back? I forgot…

— Let's go, she said, gently catching him before he fell.