Seasons shifted, painting the quiet valley in hues of change since the day Andini carried a newborn into the woods. The modest wooden cottage they built on the forest's edge stood resilient, its weathered walls silently chronicling the years gone by. Around it, a neatly tended garden thrived under Gugum's careful hands.
Dadang Gumilar, whom Andini now often called Gugum, had grown tall and strong, his childhood innocence slowly replaced by the quiet focus shaped through years of discipline. Each morning began with breath control and elemental focus, followed by the labors of their simple life. That life, grounded in peace and routine, had molded him, but Andini knew it was time for the world beyond to test him.
One misty dawn, after their usual meditation, Andini studied her ward with a critical gaze. "My son," she began softly, "your understanding of Wind and Earth is steady. You've felt their flow, their foundation. But that alone is not enough. Real strength only forms through real trials. The forest beyond this valley holds beasts touched by elemental forces. Face them, not to conquer, but to learn."
She explained the nature of elemental beasts, creatures who had passively absorbed the energies of their environment and wielded them instinctively. To the unprepared, they could be fatal. To someone like Gugum, they would be teachers.
His first challenge came as the Wind Owl, a nimble creature that darted through trees like a whisper and unleashed sonic screeches capable of shaking the senses. Gugum, with what he'd learned of the Wind, tried to follow its air trails, attempting to trap it mid-flight. Again and again he failed, his gusts struck only empty branches, his focus shattered by piercing howls.
From afar, Andini only called out, "Feel the rhythm, Gugum! Don't just chase, anticipate!"
He learned to read the beats between flaps of its wings, to feel subtle pressure shifts in the air. In a crucial moment, he launched a precisely-timed current that clipped the bird mid-turn, sending it tumbling to the forest floor.
A small victory... but a real one.
Another day brought the Stonehide Boar, a stubborn beast whose hide was nearly impenetrable, and whose charges could uproot saplings. Gugum found it easily—its heavy steps echoed through the ground like drums. But fighting it was another matter.
His Wind techniques glanced harmlessly off its thick hide. Remembering Andini's teachings, he drew upon Earth. He grounded himself, channeling the element through his stance and into his arms. When the boar lunged, Gugum didn't dodge, he caught the impact with braced limbs, his body sheathed in a subtle yet firm layer of Earth energy.
Though bruised, he stood firm.
Seizing his chance, Gugum began to rotate between agility and defense—dodging with Wind, then retaliating with hardened strikes of Earth. After several tense exchanges, he landed a blow beneath the creature's chin, toppling it.
"That… was real," he muttered. "Not a drill. Not a form. Real."
One misty morning, while practicing deeper in the forest than usual, Gugum followed a trail he thought might lead to a wind-imbued creature, something he hoped would test his growing skills. But the forest had other plans.
The air grew still. The birds fell silent. Then, from behind a thicket of twisted vines, it emerged.
A hulking beast stepped into view, its body like a giant moss-covered stag, but armored with thick, stone-like scales. Its eyes glowed dimly red. It was the Stoneback Mossdeer, a predator whispered about by hunters, said to embody both the earth's raw defense and the forest's elusive speed.
Gugum's instincts told him to run, for a moment there seemed to be doubt in his heart.
He channeled the wind to read the beast's movement, summoned the earth beneath to slow its advance, but nothing worked. His attacks slid off its hide like pebbles against a mountain. He dodged, ducked, scrambled, but the beast closed in.
Then came the blow. A sweeping strike of its antler-like horn sent him crashing into a tree. Pain exploded in his shoulder. His vision blurred. Blood trickled down his brow as he struggled to lift his body. The beast lowered its head, preparing for the final charge.
But it never came.
Suddenly, a surge of Wind blasted it aside.
Andini stood between them, her arm outstretched. The lynx hissed once, then vanished into the underbrush.
She knelt beside Gugum without a word, placing a hand on his wound. Her elemental energy flowed gently, sealing the worst of it.
"Why did you face him when you had doubts in your heart?" she asked softly, not in anger, but with grave concern.
"I thought I could handle it," Gugum whispered. "I needed to try."
Andini was silent for a long while. The wind rustled the canopy above.
"You must remember this, Gugum," she finally said, her voice calm but edged with gravity. "When you stand before a threat, do not hesitate. The moment you doubt, the forest will claim you. Either commit with your whole self, or fall."
Gugum lowered his gaze.
"This training isn't about displaying strength," she continued. "It's to make sure you live long enough to grow stronger. If you fall recklessly now, everything we've built ends with you."
The days turned to weeks, weeks into months. Each hunt brought new obstacles and lessons. Gugum began using Wind not only to strike or flee, but to sharpen his senses, enhancing hearing, softening footsteps. Earth, once only a wall or shield, became a way to map terrain, to brace limbs, to form a second skin in moments of desperation.
He took nothing for granted. Meat was rationed. Pelts became cloaks, straps, or thread. From time to time, he found small elemental cores within slain beasts, fragments of condensed energy. These he learned to absorb slowly during rest, accelerating recovery and control.
Andini watched all this with quiet pride. Gugum had learned to manipulate Wind and Earth independently with confidence. His control was sharp. His instincts honed. Yet she knew this was still the surface. He had yet to understand the essence behind each element, their philosophy, their symphony. And the greatest challenge of all: to harmonize them.
That, Even Andini has not fully mastered it.
But Gugum was satisfied. He could now roam the forest alone, confident in his survival. He believed himself prepared.
What he didn't know was that the deadliest threat would not come from beast or jungle, but from the creeping shadow of a past neither he nor Andini had truly escaped.