The journey was extended and harsh.
The frozen terrain gradually 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 force of noble life or the rigid discipline of royals.
He spent most of the journey's early days in hushed tones, riding beside Kael in a wagon drawn by two worn-out horses, with a Duke's guard accompanying them, whose job was to take the wagon back to Frostpeak once Kael and Richard had reached their destination.
Time slid by as the plains stretched outward in every direction, an unbroken sweep of muted colors and distant horizons.
Sometimes, they passed tranquil 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, however, Richard would be instructed to rest under the open sky, though he didn't know why. And beside him, Kael would light a controlled flame with a flick of his fingers, then close his eyes as if meditating.
--
After six days of travel, they finally reached a wide valley bordered by ancient cliffs and scattered trees. Kael drew the horses to a halt.
The valley was awfully scary for some reason. A gaping wound in the earth could be seen, stretching wide between colossal stone walls. Jagged, ancient cliffs rose around them, dark spires of rock draped in lichen, looking like silent, stony Watchers. The floor below was a desolate expanse of cracked shale and scrubby mud, sparsely dotted with twisted, wind-bent junipers.
'This is where we'll commence our training,' Kael said, stepping down.
'This place is called the Valley of Requiem,' he added.
Richard frowned a little 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 a little into the soft land as his eyes swept over the hollow space. The wind here moved differently--carrying unending murmurs.
'A long time ago,' Kael began, 'this valley was a battlefield. Thousands of mages fought here during a war. It was said that when they unleashed their strongest spells, the clash of mana was so violent that the land itself cracked. The atmosphere became saturated with raw, unbound energy. It warped the soil, the weather, even the flow of time for a little bit. What you feel now--that calming energy--isn't peace. It's what remains of that battle.'
Richard looked around, noticing how strange the place truly was.
The grass was devoid of color, almost silver, and it moved as if alive, bending in gradual waves though there was barely any breeze.
'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.'
'Then why did we come here?' Richard asked.
'Because that instability is exactly what you need,' Kael said. 'The atmosphere here carries every form of mana--distorted, pure, chaotic. If you can learn to control mana in this place without losing focus, you'll never lose control anywhere else.'
He stopped, turning back toward Richard. 'This place strips you bare. That's why no one lives anywhere near. But if you can learn to move in harmony with it, the valley will come to accept you.'
He understood then why Kael had brought him here--not because it was safe, but because it wasn't.
And thus began Richard's instruction with the renowned Kael Ardyn as his master.
--
The first week of training was brutal.
Kael didn't let him touch mana--not even once. His days began before sunrise with physical drills: running across uneven ground, hauling stones, cutting wood, balancing on thin ledges and several other straining exercises. At first, Richard's body refused to cooperate. His muscles screamed with every step and his breathing was ragged.
'If you have a poor body, you will have to rely too much on magic. Increasing physical capabilities with magic is a really poor idea in extended fights. It will only tire you out more.' Kael had said on the first day, watching him collapse into the dirt.
Richard, even in agonizing pain, pushed himself again and again, until he could remain standing without trembling.
Kael's methods were strange but effective. He never praised, never scolded. He would only say, 'Again' and Richard would obey.
--
By the end of the second week, Richard's breathing was firmer during runs. His movements grew sharper, his awareness clearer. He noticed the rhythm of nature--from the rustle of wind through grass, to the slight tremor before any movement.
It wasn't only training his body, but sharpening his senses as well.
During the evenings of the second week, Kael began teaching him to observe mana, but not channel it, yet.
He instructed Richard to sit still for hours, eyes closed, feeling the natural energy around him instead of within him.
'Mana exists everywhere,' Kael would say. 'You just need to learn to observe and absorb it.'
The first few attempts were failures. Richard could sense nothing but frustration. But gradually, he began to feel slight ripples--tiny vibrations in the atmosphere, like threads weaving through the world. There was definitely progress.
Their food during this was basic--roots, wild fruit, and sometimes roasted animals when Kael went hunting.
They rarely met other travelers, but occasionally, wandering merchants passed through the outer roads.
As the days grew longer, Richard's focus deepened. His body grew used to exhaustion, and his mind began to become keen.
He could feel the pull of mana--awaiting.
--
The next two and a half months reshaped Richard's routine into something almost meditative.
Each day followed the same rhythm: Kael speaking with patient clarity, and Richard working until his muscles trembled and his mind thrummed from effort.
Progress came unevenly. Some days, the mana curved through him with surprising ease. Other days, it tangled under his skin, wild and stubborn. Kael, as usual, never raised his voice--he guided, corrected, and urged Richard onward with the kind of patience only masters carried.
And when the day arrived for a new step, it felt earned.
Kael placed a weathered log on the ground between them one day. 'Channel through your palm,' he said. 'Guide it. Shape it.'
Richard, though surprised by the sudden instruction, was ready. He exhaled and reached inward for the spark. The surge answered fast. A line of blue light tore through the log and smoke curled upward.
Richard stared at the ruined wood--his failure laid bare.
But Kael touched the untouched half of the log and set it upright again. 'Try again. Ease into it.'
The second attempt took longer. Richard focused with every bit of discipline he'd built since arriving here.
Mana crept forward like warm water moving through him, controlled enough to stay within his grip. A gentle glow formed around his palm, spreading through the wood instead of tearing it apart. The log held.
'Good,' Kael said. 'You're learning how to move with it instead of against it.'
That night, Richard stretched out on the ground. He looked at the stars, scattered across the sky in sweeping clusters, their light falling over the ridge like a curtain of silver. Cool air brushed over his arms, still tingling from the exercise a few hours prior.
For the first time in both his previous life and this one, he felt something building inside him--something whole, something rising through the cracks life had carved into him.
His chest lifted with a breath that carried weight he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
He felt alive. It was a brief rise before the grind took him again.
--
The training only grew harsher with time.
Kael showed no mercy.
His days began before dawn, and Richard followed the same routine--wake up, run until your legs burn and repeat drills until the body yields.
Kael would only help in correcting form or pointing out mistakes. His hushed demeanor was more impactful than scolding.
When Richard's body began adjusting to the strain, Kael added weapons to his routine. Wooden poles at first--meant to build coordination and accuracy.
'Huh? What are these for?' Richard asked when he saw the poles.
'Why?' Kael handed one to him. 'We'll spar, of course.'
'But....I'm a mage!' Richard shot back.
Kael gave a faint smile. 'There will come a time when you'll need more than spells. And since I'm a mage as well, you should be able to handle this, right?'
'Fine,' Richard agreed.
The first spar ended quickly, much to Richard's surprise. He barely had time to react before Kael swept his legs and pinned him to the dirt. 'Try Again, I'm a mage aswell, remember?' Kael said without emotion.
Each failure stung. Pain became familiar. The movements that once felt awkward began to flow naturally. Kael's strictness left no room for pride or anger.
--
Over time, the routine started to blend in naturally. Richard had to start training without awaiting orders. Kael would either watch, or disappear for hours, leaving Richard to practice alone.
That very isolation taught him more than any lecture. Without anyone to compare himself to, he could only measure progress against his own limits.
--
During the fourth month, Kael allowed Richard to carry a wooden sword for training.
'You will not swing until your hands stop trembling,' Kael told him. It took nearly a week before Richard could keep swinging the sword, without stopping, for more than fifteen minutes.
Each dusk, Kael gave him a new task--lifting rocks, cutting firewood, or balancing on narrow stones while maintaining focus. When Richard failed, Kael would only correct his mistakes. When he succeeded, he said even less.
Despite this, Richard began to understand him, as time went on.
--
Another two months passed.
Richard grew stronger; his posture improved, and his muscles hardened.
His body, once frail, now moved with professionalism.
Kael would occasionally give short lessons that stayed in Richard's mind.
And Richard would listen with utmost attention. He had grown used to Kael's strange wisdom, learning to find meaning even in the smallest words.
--
The next stage of Richard's training revolved around rebuilding his capacity to recover.
Kael set him to long stretches of meditation, hours at a time, before introducing the lesson Richard had never expected to struggle with: drawing mana from the world itself.
For most mages, it was a basic skill. Children barely past their first lessons could manage it. Yet Richard hadn't heard a word about it! When Kael explained the method, Richard blanked out. The thought weighed on him for a long moment, before he let it pass.
He had the chance to learn it now, and that was enough.
He settled into position, eyes shut, following Kael's guidance without objection.
His endurance and concentration had grown under Kael's relentless regimen. However, the valley's strange environment still worked against him.
'Focus,' Kael ordered.
The exercise drained him, more than any of the physical trials. Still, Richard managed to conjure a controlled flame in his palm--no larger than a candle's glow. The only difference was, instead of his own mana, he had used the absorbed mana.
--
Time passed by very quickly and just like that, it was september already, meaning almost eight 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 like it used to in his previous life; it moved with accuracy, tranquil and purposeful. It was a dream come true for him.
Kael tested him one evening during a storm. The rain poured hard and lightning shone across the valley.
Kael stood in the downpour, his cloak soaked, and said simply, 'Firm 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 lessons and gradually regained his balance.
The lightning shone again, nearer this time, and for a short moment, the storm bent with his mana instead of against it.
The flame in his hand remained lit.
Kael approved it. 'Good. You're ready for the next step.'
'The next step?' Richard asked.
Kael turned south, where the storm clouds still gathered. 'Beyond this valley lies what you must face alone.'
Richard's brows furrowed. 'Alone?'
Kael looked at him. 'There are some things I can't teach you by standing beside you-'
Before Richard could respond, a deep rumble echoed through the valley--deep, regular, and unnatural. The ground trembled beneath their feet.
Richard stiffened, eyes widening. 'What was that?'
Kael's eyes drifted toward the dark horizon. 'You'll know soon.'
The rain ceased abruptly.
Kael's face changed. 'Gather your things. We'll leave soon.'
Richard held back but obeyed.
Judging from Kael's face, Richard could understand that the "real" training was yet to begin.
--