More than seven hours passed before the door creaked open.
Lemonk stepped out, his legs shaking, his body drenched in sweat. His eyes were red and swollen from crying, but within them burned something far stronger than pain.
Determination.
A sharp, fiery light flickered in his gaze. It was the intent to rise. To conquer. To tear down the mountain that fate had laid before him and reach for the stars with hands hardened by will alone.
His heart pounded, not from grief or despair this time, but from pride. From purpose. From a soul that refused to yield.
After the ritual, Lemonk had lost everything, his strength, his energy, even the ability to stand. His body had become an empty shell, robbed of its former vitality by the very talent that could one day make him powerful.
But he hadn't given up.
In the silence of his room, he had started from nothing. For six hours straight, the thuds of flesh hitting wood echoed behind his closed door. Any passerby might've thought a grown man was battling wild beasts inside, but it was only Lemonk, fighting his own weakness.
First, he had tried to crawl. It took him over thirty minutes just to hold himself on all fours. His arms shook. His muscles screamed. He collapsed, again and again. But he kept going.
Each time he moved forward, five steps, then rest.
Then again.
Then again.
During those moments of rest, the darkness crept in. Doubt whispered in his ear: Give up. This is pointless. You're broken. Accept it.
Tears spilled freely, tears of rage, of helplessness. But deep within, a single spark refused to die.
If I stop now… I'll never become the man I want to be.
That single thought became his anchor.
Step by agonizing step, he crawled. Then stood, first with the support of the bedframe, then gripping the walls. His legs trembled like leaves in the wind, but he forced them to hold. He fell. He rose again. Until, finally, he stood on his own.
The spark inside him had become a flame.
Then, an inferno.
When Lemonk finally reached the door, he wasn't the same boy who had entered the ritual. His body was still weak, yes, but his eyes… his eyes were sharper than steel. His spirit had taken its first step toward breaking the impossible.
He opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
It felt like a boulder had been lifted off his chest.
His heart light, his lips curling into a soft, stubborn smile, Lemonk walked, slow, unsteady, but proud, toward the temple's exit.
There were still mountains ahead. But he had taken his first real step toward crushing them.