The journey towards the outer plains was long and harsh. The frozen terrain slowly gave way to dry, uneven plains where the wind carried the scent of earth and dust instead of snow and stone. For Richard, it was like seeing another world--a place untouched by the weight of noble life or the rigid discipline of the Duke's manor.
He spent most of the early days in silence, riding beside Kael in a small wagon drawn by two worn-out horses. Kael rarely spoke unless necessary, but his presence alone demanded awareness. Even without using mana, the air around him felt heavier--like the world itself acknowledged him.
The plains stretched endlessly in every direction. Sometimes, they passed quiet villages with cracked walls and children peering through half-broken fences. Other times, the land was barren for miles, nothing but rocks and low grass bending under the wind.
At night, they would rest under the open sky. Kael would light a controlled flame with a flick of his fingers, then close his eyes as if meditating. Richard often watched the stars, feeling the faint hum of mana in the air. The stillness of the plains helped him focus--something he had always struggled with before.
After six days of travelling like this, they finally reached a wide valley, surrounded by old cliffs and sparse trees, Kael stopped the horses.
"This is where we'll stay," he said, stepping down. "The Valley of Requiem."
Richard frowned slightly at the name. "The Valley of Requiem… sounds like a graveyard."
Kael's lips curved, though not in amusement. "In a way, it is."
He stepped ahead, boots sinking slightly into the soft earth as his gaze swept over the vast, hollow land. The wind here moved differently--carrying whispers that never seemed to end.
"Long ago," Kael began, "this valley was a battlefield. Thousands of mages fought here during a war. It was said that when they unleashed their final spells, the clash of mana was so violent that the land itself cracked. The air became saturated with raw, unbound energy. It warped the soil, the weather, even the flow of time for a while. What you feel now--that stillness--isn't peace. It's what remains of that conflict."
Richard looked around, noticing how strange the place truly was. The grass was pale green, almost silver, and it moved as if alive, bending in slow waves though there was barely any breeze. The cliffs surrounding the valley glowed faintly at dusk, lines of residual mana etched into the rock like veins of light.
"No one comes here anymore," Kael continued. "The ground is unstable for magic. Ordinary mages lose control of their mana when they stay too long. To the untrained, it feels suffocating--like the world itself is watching."
"Then why here?" Richard asked.
"Because that instability is exactly what you need," Kael said. "The air here carries every form of mana--distorted, pure, chaotic. If you can learn to breathe in this place without losing focus, you'll never lose control anywhere else."
He stopped, turning back toward Richard. "This valley strips you bare. It rejects arrogance, impatience, and fear. That's why no one lives here anymore. But if you can learn to move in harmony with it, the valley will accept you."
For a moment, silence settled again, the faint hum of mana vibrating through the ground beneath Richard's boots.
He understood then why Kael had brought him here--not because it was safe, but because it wasn't.
And thus began Richard's training with the legendary Kael Ardyn as his master.
---
The first week was brutal.
Kael didn't let him touch mana--not even once. His days started before sunrise with physical drills: running across uneven ground, hauling stones, cutting wood, balancing on thin ledges. At first, Richard's body refused to cooperate. His muscles screamed with every step, his breathing ragged.
"You rely too much on your magic. Increasing physical capabilities with magic is a really bad idea in longer fights. It will only tire you out more." Kael had said on the first day, watching him collapse into the dirt. "Your body is weak because your pride is strong."
Richard wanted to argue, but he couldn't. He pushed himself again and again, until he could stand without trembling.
Kael's methods were strange but effective. He never praised, never scolded. He would simply say, "Again" and Richard would obey.
By the second week, Richard's breathing steadied during runs. His movements grew sharper, his awareness clearer. He noticed the rhythm of nature--the rustle of wind through grass, the faint tremor before an animal's movement.
It wasn't just training his body; it was training his senses.
During the evenings, Kael began teaching him to observe mana, not channel it. He instructed Richard to sit still for hours, eyes closed, feeling the natural energy around him instead of within him.
"Mana exists everywhere," Kael said. "Your mistake was believing it begins and ends with you."
The first few attempts were failures. Richard could sense nothing but frustration. But slowly, he began to feel faint ripples--tiny vibrations in the air, like threads weaving through the world.
Kael noticed. "Good. You're learning to listen."
Days turned into weeks. Their food was simple--roots, wild fruit, and sometimes roasted animals when Kael hunted. They rarely met other travelers, but occasionally, wandering merchants passed through the outer roads.
One evening, they crossed paths with a group of adventurers resting near a broken tower.
The leader, a man named Glen, greeted them with a grin. "Not often you see travelers in this part of the plains," he said, eyeing Kael's cloak with unease. "You two camping out here?"
Kael only nodded. Richard, however, found himself speaking. "We're training."
Glen laughed. "Training? Out here? Kid, you've got guts." He clapped him on the shoulder. "You ever get tired of old hermit work, come to Westmere. We could use someone with spirit."
Richard smiled faintly but said nothing. Kael simply gave a glance that made the man's grin falter. They parted ways at dawn.
As the days grew longer, Richard's focus deepened. His body grew used to exhaustion, and his mind began to sharpen. He could feel the pull of mana--calm, steady and waiting.
After a few weeks, Kael finally allowed him to try small exercises like channeling faint streams of energy into objects. Kael instructed Richard to channel his mana into a log. Richard's first attempt burned through the wood, but the next was cleaner, controlled.
"Don't force it," Kael instructed. "Control is not about strength, it's about knowing your limits."
That night, Richard lay under the stars again, his fingers still tingling with mana. For the first time in years, he didn't feel broken.
He felt…alive.
---
The training only grew harsher with time.
Kael showed no mercy. His days started before dawn, and Richard followed the same routine--wake up, run until your legs burn and repeat drills until the body gives out. Kael spoke little, only correcting form or pointing out mistakes. His silence was heavier than scolding.
When Richard's body began adjusting to the strain, Kael added weapons to his routine. Wooden poles at first--meant to teach coordination and patience. "A weapon reflects its wielder," Kael said, handing him the first one. "If your stance is weak, so is your strike. Fix that before trying to fight."
The first spar ended quickly. Richard barely had time to react before Kael swept his legs and pinned him to the dirt. " Try Again" Kael said flatly.
Each failure stung, but there was a strange rhythm to it. Pain became familiar. The movements that once felt awkward started to flow naturally. Kael's training left no room for pride or anger--only repetition.
Kael had an unchanging routine. Every morning started in silence. Richard had to begin training without waiting for orders. Kael would sometimes watch from afar, other times disappear for hours, leaving Richard to practice alone.
The isolation taught him more than any lecture. Without anyone to compare himself to, he could only measure progress against his own limits. He learned when to push harder and when to steady himself.
By the third month, Kael allowed Richard to carry a small sword for training. Not for fighting, but to understand weight and precision. "You will not swing until your hands stop shaking," Kael told him. It took nearly a week before Richard could hold the blade steady for more than a minute.
Each evening, Kael gave him a new task--lifting rocks, cutting firewood, or balancing on narrow stones while maintaining focus. When Richard failed, Kael said nothing. When he succeeded, he said even less.
Despite that, Richard began to understand him. The silence wasn't cruel; it was deliberate. Kael wanted him to learn by doing, not listening.
As months passed, Richard grew stronger, his posture firm, his muscles developed. His body, once frail, now moved with steady control.
At night, they would sit near a small fire, sharing plain food. Kael rarely spoke about his past, but occasionally he would give short lessons that lingered in Richard's mind.
"Magic isn't just about power," Kael said once, staring into the flames. "It's about knowing when not to use it."
Richard listened carefully. He had grown used to Kael's strange wisdom, learning to find meaning even in the smallest words.
The next phase of training focused on regeneration. Kael made him meditate for hours, eyes closed, hands still, breathing steady, absorbing every bit of mana present in his surroundings. The valley's strange air pressed down on him. It made control difficult, but that was the point--If he could regenerate at such a place, he could do it anywhere.
"Focus," Kael said quietly. "If you lose your calm here, you'll lose it anywhere."
The practice was exhausting. Every twitch, every distraction made his mana surge uncontrollably. But gradually, he learned to steady it--to breathe without forcing it, to let it flow naturally.
Kael began giving him small exercises again, increasing the difficulty with each one--simple channeling, like lighting a single spark or warming a stone. The first attempts failed completely, the mana breaking apart. But little by little, it started working.
Five months had passed and Richard could form a small controlled flame in his palm, no larger than a candlelight, but steady and smooth.
Kael gave the faintest nod. "Now you're listening."
Their life in the valley followed a simple rhythm: train, eat, rest, repeat. No distractions, no interruptions. The place stripped everything unnecessary away.
To Richard, however, this life was changing him completely. He was still young, still impatient at times, but the reckless arrogance he once carried had faded. The valley was harsh, but it taught him patience in a way Frostpeak never could.
He started to understand Kael's lessons--that strength isn't built overnight, and that control meant endurance, not just talent.
---
Before Richard knew it, it was september already, meaning almost 8 months had passed since Richard's return into the past. He could already do things which he never could've dreamed of in his previous life, despite reaching the highest circle possible for a mage. He could run for hours without faltering. His body had grown leaner, his reflexes sharper. His magic no longer burst uncontrollably; it moved with precision, calm and measured. It was a dream come true for him.
Kael tested him one evening during a storm. The rain poured heavily, lightning flashing across the valley.
Kael stood in the downpour, his cloak soaked, and said simply, "Steady your mana. If you can hold a fire in your arms through this, you've learned something."
Richard tried, the fire extinguishing instantly at first because of the storm's energy breaking his rhythm. But he remembered Kael's words--breathe with the world, not against it. Slowly, he regained his balance.
The lightning flashed again, closer this time, and for a brief moment, the storm bent with his mana instead of against it. The flame in his hand stayed lit despite the wind.
Kael nodded once. "Good. You're ready for the next step."
"The next step?" Richard asked.
Kael turned toward the northern cliffs, where the storm clouds still gathered. "Beyond this valley lies what you must face alone."
Richard's brows furrowed. "Alone?"
Kael looked at him steadily. "There are some lessons I can't teach you by standing beside you."
Before Richard could respond, a low rumble echoed through the valley--deep, steady, and unnatural. The ground trembled beneath their feet.
Richard steadied himself, eyes widening. "What was that?"
Kael's gaze drifted toward the dark horizon. "You'll know soon."
The rain stopped abruptly, leaving behind a heavy silence. The air itself felt charged.
Kael's expression hardened. "Pack your things. We leave the valley in four days."
Richard hesitated but obeyed. As he glanced back at the valley one last time, the earth pulsed faintly--a quiet reminder that something deep beneath had begun to stir.
--