The Ashwilds were unforgiving, a brutal crucible of shattered metal and shifting sands. Kael welcomed the harsh wind and biting cold—they were nothing compared to the fire roaring inside him.
Each day was a battle. He pushed his body beyond pain, training until his muscles burned like the flames within his veins. The Ego Knife was both partner and tormentor, its shadowy edge a constant reminder of the price of power.
Kael learned to summon the Hel Fuel blood with precision—igniting it in fierce bursts that seared the ground but left him steady, controlled.
He practiced striking against the jagged ruins, the black blade slicing with deadly grace, guided by instincts awakened through sweat and agony.
But the hardest trials were within.
The Ego Knife's voice still whispered in his mind, a relentless presence testing his will, demanding submission.
"You must bend, or be broken."
Kael gritted his teeth. He would not be broken. Instead, he carved his own path—melding the blade's will with his own fiery spirit.
Days blurred into weeks. Kael's flame grew hotter, brighter. He could now burn the very air, his fire dancing like a storm tethered to his soul.
Yet, the deeper his power grew, the more he understood: mastery was not a destination, but a journey.
He was forging himself anew—no longer just an exile, but a force to be reckoned with.
And when the time came to return to House Kito, he would be ready.