The wolf's body faded into golden dust, like it had never existed. A small crystal the size of a marble was left behind, pulsing with weak light.
"A spirit core?"
He picked it up. It felt warm in his hand, like it had a heartbeat of its own. He pocketed it, deciding to figure it out later. For now, he needed shelter.
The forest wasn't silent anymore. Distant growls, shifting shadows, and the occasional howl reminded him he'd only survived one fight.
He kept moving.
As he walked, he practiced what he'd felt during the fight. A flick of his wrist tore a line of space. A thought let him teleport short distances. It was rough—sometimes he landed sideways—but it worked.
Then he saw it.
A hut. Small, wooden, overgrown with vines. But real. Shelter.
He rushed to the door, half expecting it to vanish like a mirage. It didn't. He pushed it open—and stopped.
An old man sat inside, eyes closed, legs crossed. His beard reached his waist, and his robe shimmered faintly with spirit symbols. He was meditating—or sleeping. Or dead.
"I didn't mean to intrude," the boy said quietly.
The man's eyes snapped open.
"You reek of void."
"I—uh, that's new."
The old man squinted, then slowly stood. Despite his age, his movements were smooth, like flowing water.
"You are not from this realm."
"I guess not."
"You killed a beast?"
"Yeah. A big wolf with horns."
The man nodded. "Then you are owed a lesson."
Without warning, he struck.
The boy barely raised his arm before he was flung back into the wall. Pain bloomed across his ribs.
"What the hell?!"
"Lesson one," the man said, "strength without control is noise."
He threw another strike. The boy vanished, blinking sideways with void shift. He reappeared behind the man—only to be caught mid-air and slammed to the ground.
"Lesson two," the man continued, "space is not invincibility."
The boy coughed, but laughed through it.
"Are… are you my master now?"
The old man didn't answer. Instead, he sat back down.
"Rest. I'll teach you until morning. After that, you're on your own."
The boy lay there on the wooden floor, bones aching, but heart pounding with excitement.
"Best first day ever," he muttered before sleep claimed him.