"To be human is to be foolish at first, only to grow wiser through experience. I made many mistakes, Adam, and I want you to be wiser—to be better than me."
— Abdillah to his brother Adam
The golden sparks had already taken root within their minds, yet the weight of what Tamiel had granted them lingered in silence.
For a moment, none of the Chosen spoke. Their breaths rose and fell unevenly, as if their bodies were still learning to bear this newfound rhythm inscribed upon their souls.
Two hours had passed.
Now they sat together once more, but the hall seemed changed. No longer only a sanctuary of stories, it had become a place of discipline—Elyon's classroom, consecrated for their training.
–––––––––
Adam, Clayton, Sophia, and Hana sat in the lotus position.
The four focused on their breathing, striving to regulate the rhythm of their breaths in order to influence the heart and enhance the posture of their bodies.
Tamiel had given them clear instructions, easily conveyed to their minds.
Now, they had to follow the prescribed rhythm to reap the benefits of this practice.
_____
The Vital Breath was divided into three parts, and they were to begin with the prototype before attempting the true exercise.
Yet, the prototype was not to be underestimated, for they had heard from Tamiel that humans of this world had refined and diversified the levels of the Vital Breath.
If they practiced well, they might perform better—but that remained to be seen.
…
The two gods watched their pupils patiently from beside them.
"Do you think they can succeed?"
Astéria's serene, calm voice caught Tamiel off guard. Her question unsettled the god of wisdom, for he himself could not provide certainty regarding outsiders.
"I have no idea," he replied, "but I know they are very brave."
Tamiel's voice carried expectations for the future of the children before him.
"I may be the god of wisdom, but I am not totally omniscient."
The guardian of history's eyes were filled with hope, his gaze lingering pensively on Clayton and the others.
"And you? Why have you come to help them? Has the goddess of arcane and magic grown bored?"
His tone brimmed with playful taunt, for Astéria was no generous deity.
She was rather known for her greed and her insatiable thirst for curiosity.
Mortal races, and even gods themselves, had been toyed with in her hands—subjects of her endless arcane experiments.
"You've seen through me, my dear friend. I am here because I want to witness how foreign mortals will fare when wielding the powers of this world."
Astéria's reply was nonchalant; she cared little for hiding her purpose.
But the tone that followed drew the god of wisdom's eyes sharply toward her:
"But I also wish to see the uncertainty Elyon spoke of—when they come into contact with the arcane. What will they do with such power?!"
Her once serene expression twisted into something entirely different, her face breaking into a wide smile no human could ever wear.
Her voice dripped with feverish anticipation—like that of a predator waiting for its prey to stumble into the trap carefully laid for it.
Tamiel's calm expression faltered for the first time. He turned sharply toward Astéria, his voice low but edged with warning:
— "Humph! Restrain yourself. Do not burden them with strange ideas in your teaching."
The goddess of the arcane tilted her head, her eerie smile fading like mist under sunlight. Her gaze softened, and she answered with deliberate calm:
— "Very well. I promise I will not seek to influence them. I only wish to witness their future encounters with the arcane… to see how they react to the power they have been given."
The macabre curve of her lips vanished, as though it had never been there at all. For a fleeting moment, she was serene once more, luminous and composed.
Had Tamiel not been a god himself, he might never have believed his long-time companion capable of such a shadowed expression.
A faint disappointment touched him. He knew too well her obsession with her divine nature, her tendency to tread too far into dangerous depths. Yet he offered no rebuke stronger than a warning, his tone steady but firm:
— "Do not interfere with the future paths of the Chosen. Their course is not yours to shape."
Astéria inclined her head in silence, though in her eyes lingered a glimmer Tamiel could not ignore.
The atmosphere eventually settled into calm, with only the sharp, steady sounds of the Vital Breath echoing through the hall.
The gods waited silently as the group completed their breathing practice.
---
At that moment, Clayton stood out the most.
His breathing was no longer loud; it had become steady, and one had to listen carefully to catch the subtle sound it produced.
"Haaa—fwaa."
On the other side, Adam and Sophia lagged slightly behind him. They were at the same level, diligently continuing their practice, determined to succeed.
Only Hana struggled at times, pausing intermittently and breaking her rhythm, yet she never let herself be discouraged.
An hour later, they finally stopped.
Hana had barely completed her breathing exercise.
Despite minor imperfections, the Japanese woman knew she would need more training.
Clayton rose first, followed by Sophia, Adam, and Hana. The four of them approached the two gods.
The middle-aged man spoke:
"We have finally completed the prototype Vital Breath exercise. We will need more repetitions in the future to master it. We are fully ready for the next stage of the program, Lord Tamiel."
The former veteran calmly reported the results of their practice.
Unnoticed, his tone carried a respectful deference, as if addressing a true instructor.
"Good work. Nothing can ever be perfect. Don't worry about today, Hana, and remember to improve in the future. I hope you are more eager for what comes next, for the challenge is about to begin."
Tamiel praised the other three and reassured Hana, then turned to his companion with a smile:
"Very well, my turn. Here is my first contribution—I hope you enjoy it."
The elegant and cold goddess gave a playful smile. She raised her hand and pointed it at the group of four, and a divine violet light shot toward them.
"Bzzzz!"
Before they could react, they were blinded and disoriented, regaining their sight a few seconds later.
Adam was the first to recover his senses. The boy was surprised—the hall had expanded.
Inside, an obstacle course appeared, as terrifying as it was deadly.
A collective gulp revealed the fear that gripped the group.
Even the former veteran was shocked. Before them lay a course that promised death to anyone who failed.
It was completely unexpected—even Hana, who had read comics featuring similar challenges, was left speechless.
And yet, she was Japanese. Her country had produced countless works featuring characters who grew stronger through fatal training.
This theme of training through deadly trials might work in fiction, but Hana had never imagined finding herself in such a situation.
"Is this a joke?! You're not serious—we're going to die!"
Hana could no longer contain her emotions and complained directly to the goddess.
But the goddess did nothing but smile. It was clear she enjoyed watching them despair.
Before the rest of the group could voice their complaints, Tamiel finally intervened to reassure them.
"She is not teasing you. With her, you have nothing to fear from death. At most, you may be traumatized."
Yet the group was far from reassured. But did they have a choice? Of course not. If they wished to become stronger, pain was inevitable.
"All right. Thank you in advance. I'll go first."
While everyone was deep in thought, Adam stepped forward toward the course.
"Ahh?!"
Clayton and the two women were stunned. They wondered where the determination of this young teenager came from.
Sophia was the second to follow Adam. Her mind was shocked, but she could not allow a child to surpass her.
"Adam shows remarkable tenacity. I can do this too. Anyway, we won't die."
Clayton and Hana finally recovered from their shock and fell back behind them.
Meanwhile, Tamiel smiled. He was surprised that the youngest had taken the lead.
— "What a character! I hope he won't be too reckless."
As for Astéria, she smiled, the disturbing grin threatening to reappear.
But she restrained herself:
— "See, Tamiel? They're more interesting than expected. I really want them to come into contact with the arcane without knowing its true importance."
Her pressing tone slightly unnerved the god of wisdom.
— "Stop speaking like that, you're frightening."
Tamiel felt a twinge of shame at having been scared by such a goddess, but he quickly turned his attention back to the obstacle course.
•••
[Adam's POV]
I must be careful. Maybe I won't die, but the suffering will be real.
"Swish! Swish!"
As I dodged the giant blades, exhaustion began to wash over me.
Good heavens, this is an infernal difficulty!
Despite the numerous deadly hazards, I had only covered seventy meters, while the course seemed to stretch for two kilometers.
Each step demanded all my focus. Every swing of the pendulum blades, every spiked pit, every collapsing platform tested my reflexes and endurance. My lungs burned, my muscles screamed, yet I had to keep moving.
I could sense Sophia behind me, facing the same deadly obstacles I struggled with, though she was older and stronger. Clayton had caught up quickly and threatened to surpass her, his veteran instincts driving him forward with unstoppable momentum. Hana lagged further back, struggling with each step but refusing to yield. I could only guess at their effort, but I knew it must be immense.
Two hundred meters… three hundred… four hundred… My legs trembled with exhaustion, my breath ragged and uneven. The course seemed endless, walls twisting and expanding impossibly, turning the hall into a labyrinth of deadly challenges. Every instinct screamed at me to stop, to give in, yet I pressed forward, fueled by sheer determination.
By the time I reached five hundred meters, my body was on the verge of collapse. Every step felt heavier than the last, and I feared I might fail. My thoughts blurred with fatigue—then, like a sudden spark in the darkness, I remembered my brother's words:
"Adam… be wiser. Be smarter. Learn from my mistakes."
A wave of clarity washed over me. The answer wasn't just raw strength or endurance. It was courage… and intelligence. It was the Vital Breath, the rhythm of life Tamiel had impressed upon us, the secret that would allow us to endure and surpass our limits.
I inhaled deeply, forcing myself to find the cadence of the Vital Breath, letting it guide my heartbeat, steady my stance, and regulate my energy. The golden sparks Tamiel had planted within my mind pulsed in response, reinforcing my strength even as my body screamed for respite.
Step by step, I forced myself to synchronize each movement with my breathing, letting each inhale and exhale carry me further through the course. Suddenly, the obstacles seemed slightly less formidable; my vision sharpened, my muscles responded more fluidly.
This was it—the key to completing the trial. Courage alone had carried me this far, but now, paired with intelligence and the Vital Breath, I could truly move forward.
---
[ Third person's pov ]
They had been running for what felt like several minutes, the hall stretching before them like an unending labyrinth. Approximately halfway through the obstacle course, exhaustion gnawed at their muscles, every step heavier than the last.
The course raged on, merciless and lethal. Blades swung, platforms collapsed, and hidden chasms yawned beneath their feet. Each breath was labored, each muscle screamed with pain, and the hall had transformed into a labyrinth of death itself.
Halfway through the obstacle course, Hana finally faltered. Her body, exhausted and unable to maintain the proper rhythm, gave way. A piercing scream cut through the air, followed by the brutal sound of impact. The sensation of mortal peril, of tearing and instant agony, rippled through the others.
Adam's heart skipped a beat as he sensed a sudden, violent disruption ahead. He couldn't see exactly what happened, but the scream cut through the chaos, jolting his rhythm.
The shock hit the young boy first. His rhythm broke; for a split second, his focus shattered under the weight of fear. He stumbled, losing control as his thoughts scrambled.
Sophia froze behind him, uncertain, and Clayton, moving at full speed, collided with her. Both tumbled into a pit, thrown off course by the chain reaction.
For a brief instant, Adam felt time stretch, every second amplified by fear. His steps faltered, muscles trembling, the distance covered seeming suddenly inadequate to carry him forward.
Minutes passed, though it felt like hours, before the violet light enveloped them.
Then, violet light engulfed them, pulling each from the deadly trap in the exact order of their fall. Hana appeared first, battered and gasping but alive. Adam followed, muscles trembling, heart pounding, still haunted by the near-death he had just felt. Sophia and then Clayton emerged, each shaken, disoriented, and painfully aware of their vulnerability.
The obstacle course had taught them its harshest lesson. Astéria's eyes, sharp and unyielding, fell upon the group. Her voice cut through the hall like a blade:
— "I hope you have learned your lesson."
The words carried weight. This trial was never only about strength or endurance. It demanded deep wisdom, unwavering courage, and the ability to persist despite chaos and failure around them. Survival required ignoring distractions, accepting the risk of sacrifice, and mastering both body and mind.
Each of the four drew in slow, uneven breaths, bodies trembling, hearts still racing. The true nature of the challenge sank in: the course was as much a test of mental fortitude and strategic thinking as it was of physical prowess. Pain and fear were mere tools, shaping them into more than mortals—they were being forged into warriors capable of facing extremes.
— "So, what did you think of this little course? Fun, wasn't it?"
The god of wisdom spoke in a mocking tone, his voice dripping with irony.
— "You did wonderfully. Your group's failure has shown the unity you all share. One mistake wasn't enough—you had to sink together."
None dared raise their heads. Shame weighed on them all, for they realized how foolish their reactions had been.
Clayton in particular felt useless. He hadn't demonstrated his expertise as a former army veteran.
[ Clayton's POV – 33 minutes earlier ]
After Adam and Sophia moved forward, I gathered my thoughts and followed behind them, Hana at my side.
Especially Hana—she lagged constantly, struggling to keep pace, barely managing to stay in rhythm.
I had understood the value of Vital Breath, and I worried for those who hadn't yet grasped it. Thankfully, Adam set the example without me having to say a word.
Yet, despite everything seeming to go well, it all eventually fell apart. Our lack of insight and composure had been exposed.
Tamiel's scolding cut deep, but he was right. I realized then that I was at fault most of all—for I was supposed to be the leader. And yet, a boy had shown more courage than me.
But his expression, clouded with doubt, revealed uncertainty in his own bravery.
I stepped toward Adam, my voice steady, meant to comfort him:
— "Do not be skeptical, and remain calm, little one. Accept your loss—things are not always what you believe them to be."
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
To stumble is not failure, but a lesson. To fall together is not weakness, but a mirror of what binds or breaks a group. The Chosen have learned that courage without wisdom leads to ruin, and wisdom without courage leaves one paralyzed. Both must walk hand in hand.
To be human is to err, to stumble, to fall. But to rise again—that is where humanity shines. Adam's trial was not his alone; it was the burden and the bond of all four. And so, reader, do not fear your own missteps. For even in failure, wisdom takes root, and the breath of life whispers: try again.