CHAPTER FOUR — First Steps Into the Storm
Training grounds — again.
Same cracked earth.
Same towering practice poles wrapped in talismans and faded cloth.
Same hum of spiritual conduits feeding power into protective wards.
But today felt different.
Not louder.
Not dramatic.
Just… heavier.
Like the air remembered something the world hadn't told Ren yet.
He gulped, staring across the field.
Others trained with practiced grace — punching dummies, shaping aura, meditating with silent intensity.
Ren stood there with hands in pockets, trying not to tremble.
Not from fear.
From awareness.
Something inside him was awake now,
even if he wasn't sure he wanted it to be.
Behind him, Akira leaned against a sparring post, arms crossed, silent like a statue who hated emotions.
Mei scribbled notes with the intensity of someone making sure the universe had receipts.
Commander Yuna approached, boots crunching on gravel.
That same steady aura — vast, calm, sharp like a blade sheathed in prayer.
"Ren," she said.
Ren straightened, salute sloppy.
"Present! Nervous! Hungry!"
"In that order?"
"Roughly interchangeable."
Akira sighed.
Mei closed her eyes like she was praying for patience.
Yuna turned her gaze toward the field.
"Today marks the beginning. You will learn control, discipline, and suppression. Raw power without form is disaster."
Ren swallowed.
"Disaster feels harsh. I was thinking… surprise fireworks?"
"Disaster," she repeated.
Ren nodded solemnly.
"Yes ma'am. Disaster it is."
Spirit Fundamentals — Day One
Yuna gestured to an open ring marked with chalk and broken stone.
"Step in."
Ren entered the circle like a man approaching a dentist appointment — casually terrified.
Yuna placed a smooth black stone before him.
It pulsed faintly — a focus stone, spiritual amplifier, training catalyst.
"Inhale," she commanded.
Ren inhaled.
Air felt thick, like the world pressed back.
"Exhale."
He exhaled — shaky.
"MSE is not muscle. It is not stamina.
It is identity."
Ren blinked.
"…So I need therapy more than training?"
Yuna ignored him.
"Awakening begins from will. From choice. From who you are."
Akira murmured just loud enough for Ren to hear.
"You're doomed."
"Your support is noted."
Mei adjusted her glasses. "Try not to explode."
Ren wanted to argue he didn't explode — then remembered yesterday. And the demon. And the pillar.
"…Low probability. Medium? …Decent?"
Yuna continued.
"You felt the heartbeat."
Ren nodded slowly.
Yeah. The heartbeat that wasn't his. Ancient and patient and terrifying.
"It will either consume you, or you will shape it."
No pressure.
Breath. Silence. Pulse.
The noise of the field dulled around him — like the air dimmed so his heart could be heard clearly.
Ren lowered his hand onto the black stone.
Cool. Smooth. Heavy with unseen weight.
"Inhale."
He inhaled.
Shoulders tense, breath uneven, but trying.
"Feel your center," Yuna instructed. "Not your muscles. Not your thoughts. Your self."
Ren closed his eyes.
Darkness behind his eyelids.
A quiet world.
His heartbeat.
And beneath it…
the other one.
Ancient.
Slow.
Waiting.
It scared him.
Not like a nightmare scares you.
Like a truth you aren't ready to face.
He whispered inside himself,
Don't overwhelm me. Just… let me see you.
A flicker answered — silver light across nerves.
Heat rolled up his arm — not burning.
Alive.
A spark of silver aura flickered around his fist.
Not wild.
Not violent.
Present.
Yuna watched carefully.
Akira's hand hovered near his sword — instinct.
Mei held her breath.
Ren exhaled.
Light dimmed.
He opened his eyes, sweating.
Yuna nodded.
"Good. Again."
It Goes Well… Until It Doesn't
After ten minutes, Ren's aura held steady — thin silver, trembling but there.
People noticed.
Whispers began.
Some impressed.
Some doubtful.
Some jealous.
Ren felt all of it.
He also felt suddenly itchy inside his soul — like power was pacing in a cage, restless.
Yuna stepped back.
"Now — direct your MSE into a strike. Controlled. Minimal force."
Ren nodded.
"Right. Simple. Punch air. Don't blow anything up."
He squared his stance, inhaled, let aura gather faint around his knuckles.
This was it.
The first real test.
Control. Precision. Calm focus.
He thrust his fist forward.
A clean, focused strike.
…except halfway through the punch his brain remembered something he'd whispered last night in bed, hyped on bread and destiny panic:
"Meteor Knuckle."
And something inside him answered.
Heat. Pressure. Impact.
His aura didn't flare — it dropped, compressed tight around his knuckles like gravity clenched a fist around his as well.
Then
BOOM
The air cracked.
Dust exploded off the ground.
Ren was launched backwards — arms flailing — crashing into three practice mats stacked against a wall.
fwump-fwump-fwump
splat
Silence.
Someone coughed.
Mei's clipboard slipped from her hand in shock.
Akira stared at the crater Ren had accidentally made.
Yuna blinked once — which for her was equal to a normal person screaming.
Ren lay upside-down, legs tangled in mats, hair frazzled, eyes spinning.
"M'eteor… Kn-uckle…"
He slid off the pile and hit the ground face-first.
mph.
Reactions
A few trainees gasped.
One whispered,
"Did he name a move and reality just went, 'Sure'?"
Another replied,
"I thought moves like that were symbolic until rank Master…"
A third:
"He just… invented a technique by accident—?"
Akira approached Ren.
"…You idiot."
Ren groaned from the floor.
"I didn't mean to… it just… cosmically auto-corrected…"
Mei crouched beside him, poking him with her pen.
"You're not dead. Impressive."
"Thanks… I think…"
Yuna knelt slightly — rare, serious, not angry… concerned.
"Describe what happened."
Ren sat up slowly.
Dirt in his hair.
One eye twitching.
"I punched… and then my soul yelled the attack name and the universe agreed."
Akira stared.
"You are forbidden from naming things."
Ren pointed weakly.
"But it sounded cool…"
"No."
Mei scribbled a note: Ren = hazard. Monitor for spontaneous technique generation.
Ren sighed and flopped back.
"One day I'll be respected."
Akira: "Doubtful."
Mei: "Unlikely."
Commander Yuna: "Focus."
Ren: "Hurtful."
Commander's Verdict
Yuna stood, folding her arms behind her back.
"Meteor Knuckle."
She said it slowly, testing the words like they were ancient. Dangerous.
"Do not use it again without command."
Ren opened his mouth.
Yuna raised a finger.
"Do. Not."
Ren shut his mouth.
"Yes ma'am."
She continued:
"You compressed your aura unconsciously. You forced spiritual density without structure. Had your body not matched your spirit at that moment—"
Ren gulped.
"Explosion?"
"Spirit fragmentation. Permanent."
Ren paled.
Akira muttered, "Told you you'd implode one day."
Mei: "Add to hazard notes: 'high likelihood of self-detonation.'"
Ren whined.
"Guys… can I at least get moral support after almost metaphysically exploding?"
"No," Akira and Mei replied in perfect sync.
Yuna straightened.
"We train again tomorrow. You will learn foundation first. Emotion second. Name attacks last."
Ren nodded dutifully.
"Okay… structured destiny. Got it."
Ren limped toward the exit.
Akira walked beside him, silent.
Mei hovered behind, muttering formulas like she was planning to child-proof the universe.
After a long moment, Akira spoke quietly.
"…Meteor Knuckle, huh."
Ren perked.
"Cool, right?"
Akira: "Reckless."
"But cool."
Akira looked away.
"…Fine. A little."
Ren pumped a fist weakly.
"Validation!"
Mei sighed deeply.
"Ren… please survive. My paperwork load triples if you die."
"Touched by your concern."
"I didn't say I'd miss you. I said you'd make my job harder."
Ren grinned.
"Close enough."
A Shadow Watches
On a distant rooftop, invisible to mortal eyes, a presence lingered.
A faint shimmer.
A shape like a man carved from light and shadow.
Wings folded.
Eyes burning with ancient curiosity.
His voice drifted like silk dipped in judgment.
"A child trying to punch fate."
A chuckle — soft, fond, cruel.
"How entertaining."
Ren, walking home
He gazed at his knuckles, still tingling faintly silver beneath his skin.
Soft voice, barely a whisper:
"Meteor Knuckle… round two someday. But slowly."
He looked up at the sky — cracked, beautiful, defiant.
New Babel towered ahead — lights flickering, people shouting, life refusing to kneel.
Ren smiled.
"I'll get stronger. My way."
A pause.
"…And eat more bread."
A breeze answered, warm.
Not divine.
Not ominous.
Human.