Morning came without warmth.
Not because the sun failed to rise—but because something heavier waited for them in the valley.
Ash felt it the moment he stepped outside.
The air was thick.
Not humid.
Not dense.
Oppressive.
Kael paused mid-step, hand tightening around his weapon. Riven's usual grin was gone, replaced with a sharp, restless focus. Juno's brows knit together as mana ripples brushed against something unseen.
At the center of the valley stood Lunaria.
Still.
Calm.
Barefoot again.
His half-long silver hair flowed freely, brushing his shoulders, framing a face far too serene for what he was about to teach.
"Killing intent," Lunaria said without turning, "is not rage."
They stopped several meters away.
"It's not bloodlust. Not hatred. Not madness."
He finally faced them.
"It is decision."
Ash swallowed.
"When you release killing intent," Lunaria continued, "you are telling the world that something has already died—you are merely allowing reality to catch up."
Riven muttered, "That's… comforting."
Lunaria ignored him.
"You will practice controlling it," he said. "Releasing it in layers. Compressing it. Withdrawing it."
Kael nodded. "And if we fail?"
Lunaria's eyes sharpened slightly.
"Then you'll know."
He gestured to Ash.
"You first."
Ash stiffened but stepped forward.
He closed his eyes.
Decision, he reminded himself.
He thought of monsters.
Of battles.
Of moments where hesitation meant death.
His mana stirred.
A pressure rolled outward—sharp, focused, like a blade pointed at the world.
Riven stepped back instinctively. Juno felt his breath hitch for just a moment.
Lunaria nodded. "Acceptable."
Ash exhaled, releasing it.
Kael followed.
His killing intent was heavier—solid, grounded—like a mountain shifting its weight. Stones near his feet cracked faintly.
"Good," Lunaria said again.
Riven's was wild but clever, layered with feints and misdirection. Juno's was precise, narrow, cutting like a surgeon's scalpel.
One by one, they practiced.
Releasing.
Compressing.
Pulling it back before it spilled.
Sweat ran down their spines.
Then Lunaria raised a hand.
"Enough," he said.
They relaxed—just a little.
That was their mistake.
"I will now release mine," Lunaria said calmly.
Ash's heart slammed. "Wait—"
Too late.
It wasn't explosive.
There was no blast.
No visible wave.
Instead—
The world bent.
Ash's lungs seized as if the air had been sucked away. His knees buckled instantly, crashing into the ground.
Kael gasped, veins bulging as he fought to stay upright, vision darkening.
Riven slammed a hand into the earth, eyes wide with shock, every instinct screaming run—but his body refused to move.
Juno's mana networks lit up violently, alarms ringing in his mind as his breath came in shallow, panicked pulls.
It felt like standing before an executioner—
Not one who hated them—
But one who had already accepted their deaths.
Lunaria's killing intent was silent.
Absolute.
It wasn't aimed.
It didn't need to be.
It simply existed, and their bodies reacted as prey.
Ash's vision blurred. "L-Lunaria…!"
Each breath burned.
Each heartbeat felt borrowed.
Just as the edges of consciousness began to fade—
The pressure vanished.
Air rushed back violently.
They collapsed, coughing, gasping, chests heaving like they'd been dragged from deep water.
Lunaria stood unchanged.
"Remember that feeling," he said quietly.
They looked up at him—fear, awe, and something dangerously close to reverence mixing in their eyes.
"That," Lunaria continued, "is what you will face someday."
He turned away.
"And that," he added over his shoulder, "is what you must become strong enough to endure—without falling to your knees."
Ash lay back against the ground, chest rising and falling rapidly.
Riven laughed weakly. "You're… insane."
Kael stared at Lunaria's back, fists clenched. "No."
Juno swallowed hard. "He's terrifying."
Ash closed his eyes—
And smiled faintly.
"Yeah," he whispered.
"But he's ours."
And somewhere ahead—
They all knew—
This was only the beginning.