If the first week of training with Ardan had taught me one thing, it was this:
A normal human being would have quit. Or collapsed. Or run screaming into the jungle, never to be seen again.
And yet… here I was.
Standing in the clearing again, bruised, exhausted, mosquito-bitten, and somehow still breathing. The monkeys had gathered around as usual, forming their unofficial spectator arena. One of them held a wooden sign that said "Round 2." I don't know who taught them literacy, but I blame Ardan.
He stood in the center of the clearing, arms behind his back, looking far too pleased with himself.
"Today," he declared, "you will refine Ten, master Zetsu, and strengthen your Ren."
I blinked slowly. "All… today?"
"Yes. Today."
"That's not how time works."
He ignored me. "We begin with Ten. The calm within the storm. Or, in your case, the calm within emotional panic."
"I don't panic."
"Ah," he said. "Denial. The cousin of panic."
Before I could respond, he flicked his wrist.
A monkey blew a horn.
The coconuts returned.
They did not hesitate.
I raised Ten—this time faster, steadier. The first coconut bounced off the thin aura around my shoulder without bruising it. The second struck my ribs; the aura dipped but held.
The third I blocked cleanly.
Ardan nodded. "Better."
For the first time, I felt a flicker of pride.
Then a coconut hit me in the face.
I fell.
Ardan sighed. "Much better. Progress always comes with humility."
I wasn't sure humility required being pelted by fruit, but arguing with Ardan was like arguing with gravity: pointless and painful.
We moved on to Zetsu.
Ardan led me deep into the jungle again, the air thick with dampness and humming insects. The canopy turned the world dark even though it was midday.
He stopped, turned to me, and said:"Close your aura."
I exhaled, flicking the nodes shut one by one. My aura withdrew like pulling a blanket tight around my lungs. Silence wrapped around me.
Ardan nodded. "Good. Now—stay quiet."
He walked away.
I waited.
After a minute, I heard something breathing in the brush.
Something big.
Something hungry.
I panicked. Opened all my nodes at once. My aura burst outward in a frantic explosion.
The creature fled instantly.
Ardan reappeared behind me. "See? You used Ren without meaning to."
"I was scared."
"Fear is useful," Ardan said calmly. "It reveals your instinct. But with Zetsu, you must conceal instinct."
I groaned. "Everything contradicts everything."
"Yes," Ardan said."That is why Nen is beautiful."
Ren training came after sunset.
Ardan sat cross-legged by a fire, roasting something that looked dangerously like a lizard. He motioned for me to sit.
"Ren is simple," he said."You release aura. You maintain aura. You expand aura."
He demonstrated.
His aura flared—not violently, but with a force that pushed the fire sideways. The shadows trembled. The air thickened.
I tried to mimic him.
My aura sputtered like a dying candle.
Ardan frowned. "No. You are thinking too much."
"That's how my brain works."
"That is why you struggle."
He reached over and tapped my forehead lightly."Stop thinking. Start feeling."
I inhaled. Exhaled. Let my shoulders drop. Stopped forcing my aura. Just breathed with it.
Slowly, gently, something shifted.
My aura spread—not wide, but real. Steady. Warm. Familiar in a way I didn't expect.
Ardan's eyes brightened."There. That is your Ren."
For the first time since training began, I felt something close to… confidence.
Then a monkey threw a stick at my head.
Ardan chuckled."Ren requires concentration. Do not lose it."
The days that followed blended together—coconut warfare, nocturnal predator hiding, emotional breakdowns, physical exhaustion, more coconuts, and an alarming number of monkeys participating in the educational process.
But I improved.
Ten lasted longer. Zetsu proficiency increased. Ren expanded further. And with every painful, frustrating lesson, something clicked a little more.
Ardan was harsh, insane, unpredictable…but he was also brilliant.
He never wasted a word. Never taught something unrelated. Never let me get away with laziness or fear.
He trained me like he expected greatness.
It terrified me. But it also changed me.
A turning point came near the end of my training.
We stood in the hut again—the same crooked place where he had first awakened my Nen with a slap, I still felt spiritually. The monkeys sat in a neat semicircle, as if they knew this was important.
Ardan faced me, hands behind his back.
"Jons," he said quietly, "show me Ten."
I took a breath and raised my aura.
Not forced.Not shaky.Controlled.
Ardan nodded. "Zetsu."
I closed my nodes smoothly, invisibly, like a curtain falling in silence.
He didn't even have to correct my posture this time.
"Ren."
I released my aura outward in a warm, powerful wave. Not explosive.Not wild.Just… present.
The air trembled softly. A few monkeys backed away.
Ardan watched me for a long time. Then he smiled—not the mischievous smile of before, but something real. Something proud.
"You have learned," he said."You are ready."
I lowered my aura, breathing evenly.
"Ready for what?" I asked.
Ardan stepped closer.
"Hatsu."
My heart stopped for a beat.
He placed a hand on my shoulder gently.
"Remember this, Jons: a technique is not something you copy. It is something you uncover. It grows from who you are—your fears, your strengths, your nature."
I swallowed."I understand."
"No, you don't," he said kindly."But you will."
He released my shoulder and stepped back."That is the end of your basic training."
I bowed—deeply, sincerely.
The monkeys clapped. A few threw fruit. One even cried.
As I straightened, Ardan said,"From this point on, your journey is your own."
He continued teaching me for a few more days, going into far greater detail about Nen—its principles, the nature of Hatsu, and the advanced techniques like Gyo, Shu, En, and several others. It felt like he was pouring years of knowledge into my skull, and somehow expecting it to stay there.
At the end of the final lesson, I asked, almost against my own better judgment,"Will we… see each other again?"
Ardan paused.It was the first time I had ever seen him do that.
Then a mischievous grin spread across his face.
"Oh? You already miss me? Want to train even more before you leave?"
His tone alone was enough to send a chill down my spine. I spun around and ran as fast as I could.
Unfortunately, Ardan was not someone you turned your back on lightly.
Something whistled through the air. I glanced over my shoulder—Ardan had hurled a book at me using Nen. Because it was spinning wildly, it looked less like a book and more like a bladed weapon. For a moment, I was certain I was about to die.
I braced myself and instinctively focused my Nen into my hands.When my palms met the book, it stopped rotating instantly and dropped neatly into my grip.
I blinked, confused, then looked at the cover.
"Nen for Your Average Idiot — Be Thankful."
I was so stunned I didn't even notice my feet leaving the ground. Ardan had launched me forward with a flick of his aura, and I was now flying in the very direction I had tried to escape.
"AHHHH! I HATE YOU!"That was the last thing I managed to scream back at him before I gave up and let the wind carry me wherever it pleased.