Bolt sat under the freezing waterfall once again, the relentless force of the water crashing onto his shoulders. His body trembled from the cold, but his mind was focused.
Eyes closed. Breathing steady.
The sound of the waterfall faded into the background as he dived deep into his thoughts.
"The shape... what shape does lightning have?"
He tried to imagine it.
First, he saw straight lines, like a flash cutting through the sky.
Then, jagged edges, broken and wild, like cracks in a shattered mirror.
And then… it shifted.
His aura began to flow from his body, faint blue threads rising through the water. But this time, instead of swirling aimlessly, the aura twitched—
snapped—
and then cracked in sharp, irregular patterns.
It wasn't smooth like wind, or fluid like water.
It was sudden. Sharp.
It darted from one point to another, disappearing and reappearing like bolts in the sky.
Bolt opened his eyes wide.
"That's it… it's not meant to flow… it's meant to strike."
Suddenly, his aura surged wildly, reacting to his realization. The water around him buzzed for a moment—like it had been jolted.
He stood up, fists clenched, water streaming from his hair and arms, aura flickering like electricity.
"It's unpredictable.
It doesn't move… it jumps."
And in that moment, a small crackle of actual lightning burst from his palm, hitting the rock in front of him and leaving a faint scorch.
Bolt's breathing was heavy—but his eyes burned with purpose.
"I think I'm starting to get it…"
After discovering the jagged, snapping nature of lightning, Bolt knew what he had to do. But knowing wasn't enough—control was everything.
For days, he trained alone beneath the roaring waterfall, in the silent forest, and on the rocky cliffs behind the village.
Every morning began with meditation—visualizing the shape, the movement, the unpredictable dance of lightning.
He would stretch out his hand and try to call the aura forth—not as a mist, not as a glow—but as raw power.
The first time, the sparks fizzled out instantly.
The second time, they danced across his fingers, burning him lightly.
The third time, a small arc leapt to a nearby branch, setting it aflame.
Each failure taught him something.
He noticed that lightning didn't like being tamed.
It didn't flow like other aura—it snapped, twitched, and always looked for the fastest path to escape.
So instead of forcing control, Bolt began to guide it gently, like leading a wild animal with patience, not chains.
By the fifth day, the ground around his training spot was scorched and marked with burn lines.
By the eighth, he could hold a small ball of lightning between his palms for a few seconds without losing focus.
And then, on one bright morning, with the wind quiet and the sky clear, Bolt stood still.
His body calm.
His breathing slow.
He closed his eyes and focused.
He gathered the sage aura into his hands, feeling it buzz and spark. In his mind, he pictured its shape again: sharp, broken, alive. Not a flow—but a strike.
His eyes opened.
Blue sparks crackled from his fingertips. Electricity began to dance across his arm, humming with power.
He lifted his right hand and pointed it towards a large boulder standing several meters away.
"Let's see if I've really learned it..."
With a focused breath, he released the aura.
A blinding bolt of lightning shot through the air with a loud CRACK!
It hit the boulder dead center.
The rock didn't just crack.
It split clean in half, steam rising from the fracture as electricity echoed around the area like distant thunder.
Bolt stood frozen for a moment—then slowly lowered his hand, his chest rising with deep breaths.
"I finally did it…"
The wind blew gently as if the forest itself was acknowledging his growth.
But deep in the trees, unseen to Bolt, a pair of sharp eyes had been watching him.
Still feeling the hum of energy in his veins, Bolt looked once more at the shattered boulder, then turned toward the trail leading back to Master Thomas's training grounds. His steps were slow, not out of exhaustion, but from reflection. This wasn't just a new move—it was a part of him now. He had connected with his nature.
As he reached the top of the slope, the Master was already standing there—arms crossed, eyes calm.
Master: "You've done it, haven't you?"
Bolt nodded silently.
The Master gave a small smile, rare but sincere.
Master: "Good. So… lightning finally answered you."
Bolt: "It didn't want to be controlled. So I stopped trying. I just guided it."
Master: "Exactly. That's the true path of Sage Aura. We don't dominate our nature—we understand it."
The Master walked to the edge of the training cliff and looked out over the horizon.
Master: "With this… you've completed your first phase. You now not only possess Sage Aura, but also a bond with your nature."
Bolt: "So, what's next?"
The Master turned slightly.
Master: "Now... we begin refining it. Just knowing the shape of lightning is not enough. You must learn how to wield it, how to defend with it, how to push it beyond your limits. That's where real strength begins."
Just then, the Master's eyes narrowed, and he glanced into the forest behind Bolt.
Master (quietly): "...We're being watched."
Bolt turned swiftly, his body tensing.
Hidden in the dense trees far off the path, a shadow moved.
Whoever—or whatever—was watching vanished the moment the Master focused his aura in that direction.
Bolt: "Did you see them?"
Master: "No need to chase. They were only observing… for now."
Bolt: "You think they were spying on me?"
Master: "No. They were watching your power. And whoever they are... this won't be the last time."
The breeze picked up again, and the sound of distant thunder echoed faintly, even though the sky was clear.
Master: "Rest tonight, Bolt. Tomorrow, we begin mastering lightning's true speed... and its wrath."
The morning sun filtered through the clouds as Bolt stood before Master Thomas, his hands faintly crackling with residual energy from the previous day's training. The waterfall behind him roared in the distance, but today, the air felt different—calmer, yet heavier with anticipation.
Master Thomas, standing with arms behind his back, broke the silence.
Master: "Bolt, do you know… every sage nature has five fundamental forms?"
Bolt gave a small nod, sweat glistening on his brow.
Bolt: "You mentioned that before."
Master: "Good. Then today, I'll explain them. All five. You've already started learning the first."
The Master walked a few steps forward and raised his palm, letting white aura hum quietly in his hand.
Master: "The first form is the most basic—Emission through the hands. It's about focusing, visualizing, and projecting your Sage Aura. Like when you split that boulder."
He tapped his foot gently, and frost spiraled under his boot.
Master: "The second form is Channeling through the legs. It enhances speed, agility, and movement. Essential for battle mobility and dodging."
He then drew in his aura until his entire body shimmered faintly.
Master: "The third form is Full-body Infusion. You engulf your entire body in aura. It increases your strength, defense, reflexes—everything. But maintaining it drains energy quickly."
The Master raised a finger toward the sky. Clouds above shifted, and a cold mist gathered.
Master: "The fourth form is Nature Synchronization. It connects your aura to your elemental nature—your case, lightning. This is how you'll eventually summon thunderclouds or create electric storms."
He paused.
Then, slowly, his voice lowered—serious, heavy.
Master: "And now... the fifth form."
Bolt leaned in slightly, eyes wide with curiosity.
Master: "The fifth form is called Sage Core Manifestation. It's the deepest connection between your soul and your elemental nature. You create a 'core' within yourself—an inner storm, flame, or force—that acts as a permanent source of power. Once formed, it fuels your abilities without needing to draw from the outside. But—"
He looked Bolt in the eyes.
Master: "Forming it is dangerous. Most don't survive it unless they are truly one with their nature. You'll feel as if your own element is tearing you apart from the inside. But if you endure… you gain limitless potential."
Bolt stood silently, processing every word.
Bolt: "And after that… comes the awakened form?"
Master Thomas nodded slowly.
Master: "Yes. The Awakened Form. It's not taught… it's awakened. Only in the heat of absolute desperation, rage, or purpose does it appear. In your case, it's even more uncertain."
He turned and looked out toward the horizon.
Master: "Lightning users are rare. Fewer still survive the Sage Core Manifestation. None in living memory have reached awakening. No scrolls, no records. Your awakened form… is unknown."
The wind whispered through the leaves, and Bolt felt it again—that familiar hum in his veins.
Master (softly): "That's why others are watching, Bolt. You're not just any student. You're a key to something forgotten."
Bolt clenched his fists, electricity flickering across his fingers.
Bolt: "Then I'll be the first."
After mastering the emission of lightning through his hands, Bolt's training entered its next phase.
His focus now shifted to channeling aura through his legs—the Second Form.
Every morning, Bolt sprinted through the dense forests surrounding the waterfall, his body weighed down with heavy stones tied around his ankles. Each step was exhausting, his legs burning, but he pushed on relentlessly. Master Thomas rarely spoke during these days, only observing from afar, occasionally giving short corrections.
The key wasn't just speed—it was syncing aura with movement.
Master (on the fifth day): "Let your aura guide your feet, Bolt. Not your muscles. Not your mind. Feel the ground. Push with aura, not effort."
But speed alone wasn't enough.
With great speed came great risk—so Bolt had to train his reflexes as well. At full speed, the forest became a blur of trees, vines, and razor-sharp branches. He couldn't afford to hesitate. Every run turned into a high-stakes gauntlet where he had to instinctively dodge branches, leap over rocks, slide under fallen trunks—all while maintaining his aura.
His senses sharpened.
His focus deepened.
Soon, he wasn't thinking—he was reacting.
The wind against his face, the shift of a leaf, the creak of a bending branch—he could feel it all, and his body moved on its own, twisting, ducking, flipping in mid-air.
He wasn't running through the forest anymore.
He was dancing with it.
By the end of the second week, he was no longer a boy charging through the woods—he was a bolt of lightning, crackling and weaving through the jungle with terrifying precision and speed.
Master (nodding): "You've become the storm's shadow."
For the next one month, Bolt's task was to engulf his entire body in Sage Aura, letting it flow like a second skin.
Master: "This will break you if you're not careful. Every limb, every breath must sync with your aura. And your lightning… it's wild. You'll need to tame it."
The first attempts were a disaster.
Bolt tried to let aura cover him head to toe—but every time, the electricity surged chaotically. His arms would twitch uncontrollably. His muscles locked up. He once even passed out for a full hour, smoke rising off his back.
But with each failure, his control grew.
He trained in stormy weather, letting real lightning strike near him as he meditated, learning to absorb the feeling of its rhythm.
He stood still in the rain, letting every drop ground him, forcing his aura to remain stable.
He practiced his breathing, his movements, his thoughts—everything aligned with his energy.
And slowly… very slowly… it happened.
The lightning stopped raging.
It danced.
One morning, under a blood-orange sunrise, Bolt opened his eyes as his entire body hummed with electricity—controlled, refined, and synchronized. Sparks danced along his shoulders and down to his heels, forming a visible armor of crackling energy.
He punched a boulder—it shattered.
He leapt into the air—his body seemed to float before crashing down with the force of thunder.
Master (smiling faintly): "You're ready for the storm to answer your call."
Bolt had now reached a level few could ever dream of.
But the path wasn't over.