Valieon woke up the next morning, determined to begin his training. He stepped outside to the personal training ground near his room, which Sensei Zephyr had shown him. He dropped to the ground and started his routine—98 push-ups, 67 sit-ups, and a grueling 40-kilometer run. His body burned, but he was ready to push further.
Just as he was about to continue, Sensei Zephyr appeared, watching him with an unimpressed expression. "These exercises are useless for you until you find the source of your power."
Valieon froze, confused. "What are you talking about? What source?"
Zephyr sighed. "Until you understand where your strength comes from, all of this is meaningless."
Fury ignited inside Valieon. He clenched his fists. "When will my training start?! If you didn't want to train me, you could've just said so!"
Zephyr's expression darkened. Before Valieon could react, a sharp slap sent him crashing to the ground. Blood dripped from his mouth.
"Watch your mouth..." Zephyr's voice was low and menacing. "No one talks to me like that. Even the gods respect me for my martial arts skill and experience. And you, an 11-year-old boy, will not speak to me that way."
With that, Zephyr turned and walked away, leaving Valieon seething on the ground.
But as his rage simmered, something else surfaced—regret. He had lost control, and he knew it. He took a deep breath and forced himself to remember his goal.
Then he remembered something else.
Draven's letter. The only words it contained: Stay strong.
Valieon exhaled sharply and sat up. He had to find his power. He needed to understand.
He rushed back inside and grabbed the book he had read the night before—Source of Power – Unknown. He flipped through the pages, rereading the steps: meditation, a calm mind, a pure heart, looking inward. He shut his eyes and focused.
Nothing.
Again.
Still nothing.
Hours passed. Sweat dripped from his face, his breathing became heavy, but he refused to stop. He cleared his mind and tried one last time.
Darkness.
A void surrounded him—deep, endless, null. And then, light.
Planets swirled before his eyes. The stars burned bright, and space itself seemed alive. He saw space pirates raiding distant worlds, a black hole devouring light, an asteroid belt stretching into infinity. He floated forward, guided by an unseen force, drawn deeper into the vision.
And then, the darkness thickened.
Two godly silver-purple blades hovered in the abyss, radiating an ominous aura. He reached out to them, but before he could grasp them, visions flooded his mind.
People crying for help.
A warrior stabbed from behind in the middle of battle.
A lone figure declaring war on the gods.
Armies clashing, one led by the betrayer, the other by the betrayed.
The gods themselves, watching from their divine thrones.
Two children—playing, laughing—only to suddenly grow into adults, locked in a violent struggle.
And then, he saw him.
Draven.
Lying in a pool of blood.
Valieon's breath hitched. He tried to reach him, to call out his name, but the vision shattered like broken glass. He gasped as he was pulled back into reality, his heart pounding like a war drum.
He was trembling, his hands gripping the floor. What had he just seen? A dream? A prophecy? A memory of something yet to come?
He didn't know.
But one thing was certain—he had found something. A glimpse of his power. And it terrified him.