22# Ten Days

The morning air was cold and damp, as always. The leaves swayed with the soft breeze, and the first rays of sunlight barely touched the forest floor when Clint was already standing, body rigid, eyes half-closed, and heart racing.

Ever since that jump into the river, something had changed inside him. And now, it felt like the only things that existed in the world were the sound of his own breathing… and Darius's voice cracking through the air like a whip:

— "Again."

Clint took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and channeled the Mantra.

The flow of energy ran through his veins, warming him from the inside. He tried to keep it focused solely on his feet, feeling the vibration in his soles, the subtle tremor in his leg muscles. For a moment, he managed it.

But then… the energy scattered, spreading across his body like spilled water, and everything fell apart.

— "Again."

— "Again."

— "Again."

Those same words, repeated like a hammer. Emotionless. Unyielding. Just pure pressure. And Clint obeyed.

For twelve hours straight.

The first day, he nearly passed out. The second, he could barely stand. But something started to shift.

The pain became part of the routine. His body no longer complained — it was his mind that faltered.

And Darius remained there. Silent. Relentless. Watching each attempt, every failure, as if he were waiting… waiting for Clint to break.

But Clint didn't break.

When night fell, they ate fish, bathed in the icy river, and slept under the dark sky. And the next day… it all repeated again.

Seven days.

Seven days of absolute control. Of failures, frustration, and silence.

On the eighth day, Darius appeared with something different.

He carried thick chains over his shoulder, the same giant stones they had used weeks before. The metallic sound echoed through the clearing like the announcement of torture.

Clint stared at them with a tight chest.

— "Focus the Mantra on your feet. Climb the mountain. Come down. Do it all day."

Without hesitation, Clint knelt, fastened the chains to his ankles, and stood up. The weight was familiar… but this time, it was different.

Now he wasn't just dragging stones. He had to do it while controlling the Mantra.

And so it began.

Each step was a balancing act. The energy pulsed in his feet, steady… but unstable. It was like walking a tightrope while carrying the world on his shoulders.

By noon, Clint's body was soaked in sweat, breath ragged, and his Mantra began to flicker. The stones weighed heavier with every climb. His mind throbbed with exhaustion. But he didn't stop.

Darius didn't need to repeat himself.

Clint climbed. Descended. Climbed again.

Three days passed like that.

Three days where his body endured… but his mind crumbled.

It wasn't physical pain anymore. It was mental exhaustion. Every time he tried to channel the Mantra, it felt like he was trying to hold back a river with his bare hands.

On the tenth day, Clint collapsed at the end of training, knees sinking into the forest mud. His eyes were closed, muscles trembling, face pale.

But even as he collapsed, he smiled.

Because at that moment… he understood.

It wasn't just his body that needed to be strong. It was his mind. His focus. His will.

The Mantra didn't obey brute force. It responded to conviction.

Darius approached, and for the first time in days, spoke something that wasn't a command.

— "Now… we're finally getting started."

Clint looked up at him. There was no more fear. No more doubt.

The flame Darius had seen in his eyes that first time… now it burned with intensity in the gaze of that skinny, exhausted boy, covered in sweat and dirt.

And this was only the beginning.