Dawn came too fast.
The fog still clung to the mountain like it didn't want to leave, and the city lights far below were just starting to dim. I stood in the center of the courtyard, arms crossed, waiting.
Nobody showed up on time.
Of course they didn't.
Tano was the first to drag himself out, rubbing sleep from his eyes, hoodie half-zipped, looking like he'd fought a war with his blanket.
"Lynch… seriously? Dawn? You said dawn, but this is basically night."
"Exactly. Dawn means now. Sit."
He plopped down on the cracked stone bench, yawning so wide I could see last night's dinner.
Mira appeared next. Hair tied back, training sword already in hand, but her face said she'd rather be anywhere else.
"You're actually doing this."
"I said I was."
She glanced around. "And where's everyone else?"
"Coming. Or I'll drag them."
A few more trickled in—Kaelin with her cracked tablet tucked under her arm like a shield, the younger kids rubbing their arms against the chill, looking half-asleep and fully annoyed.
Elder Goro didn't show. Probably still snoring through a hangover.
I waited until the last straggler shuffled in—some thirteen-year-old kid named Ryn who always looked like he was about to cry.
Twenty in total. Pathetic number for a sect that used to have hundreds.
I clapped once. Sharp.
"Listen up."
They straightened—barely.
"From today, we train. Every day. Dawn till we drop. No skipping. No whining. No my leg hurts bullshit."
Tano snorted. "Says the guy who used to hide behind the herb shed whenever Elder Goro called for chores."
A few muffled laughs.
I smiled. Not a nice smile.
"Yeah. That was the old Kai. This is the new one."
Mira tilted her head. "And what makes the new one so special? You hit your head yesterday or something?"
"Something like that."
I stepped forward. Slow. Let them see how steady I was now. No more wobbling. No more wheezing after ten steps.
"First rule: basics. Breathing. Stances. Circulation. You think you know how to breathe? You don't. You breathe like you're scared of air."
Tano rolled his eyes. "We've been doing qi circulation since we could walk. It's not that hard."
"Really?" I walked right up to him. Looked down. "Stand up."
He did—grumbling.
"Close your eyes. Breathe in. Deep. Hold it. Feel the qi pool in your lower abdomen."
He did. Exhaled dramatically.
"See? Easy."
I nodded. "Now do it again. But this time—don't force it. Let the world push the qi in. Equilibrium style. Six directions. Earth, sky, four corners. Balance."
Tano blinked. "Equi-what?"
"Shut up and try."
He tried. Frowned. Tried again. His face scrunched up like he tasted something sour.
"…Nothing's happening. This is stupid."
"That's because you're still breathing like a drowning rat. Chest up. Shoulders tense. You're blocking everything."
Mira crossed her arms. "And you suddenly know better than the entire sect?"
"I know enough."
Kaelin piped up quietly from the back. "He's… different today. Like, really different."
"Yeah," Tano muttered. "Different like someone swapped his brain with a bully's."
I ignored them and dropped into a low horse stance. Perfect. Even this weak body remembered the form once I guided it.
"Copy me. Hold it. Ten minutes. No moving."
Groans everywhere.
"Ten minutes? In this cold?"
"You'll warm up."
They copied—badly. Knees wobbling. Backs curving. Breathing ragged after thirty seconds.
I walked among them. Kicked Tano's foot wider. Pushed Mira's shoulders down. Adjusted a kid's hips.
"Feel it. The qi isn't something you grab. It's already there. You just stop fighting it."
Tano lasted four minutes before collapsing.
"Ow! My thighs are burning!"
"Good. Means it's working."
Mira held longer, seven minutes—then dropped to one knee, panting.
"This is insane. We've never trained like this."
"Because you've been doing it wrong for years."
She glared. "And you know this how? Last week you couldn't even carry two water buckets without tripping."
I crouched in front of her. Met her eyes.
"Last week I was half-dead inside. Today I'm awake."
She searched my face. Something flickered in hers—doubt, maybe curiosity.
"…Fine. But if this is some prank—"
"It's not."
I stood.
"Rest five minutes. Then again. This time twenty minutes."
More groans.
Tano flopped onto his back. "You're evil. Official evil."
I smirked.
"Evil keeps you alive."
While they recovered, I walked to the edge of the courtyard. Looked down the misty slope.
Below—way below—the megacity sprawled like a glowing beast. Towers stabbing the sky. Drones zipping between buildings. Neon veins pulsing through the streets. Aether rifts probably leaking somewhere in the underlevels, spawning beasts nobody up here could handle.
I'd never seen it properly. Not up close. Not with my own eyes.
The old Lynch had been too scared—too weak—to leave the mountain. Just cleaned halls. Hauled trash. Stayed in the shadows. Gloomy kid. Useless kid.
Everyone knew him as that.
And now they were looking at me like I'd stolen his body.
Good.
Let them think I was crazy.
Let them get irritated.
Let them complain.
Because irritation meant they were paying attention.
And attention was the first step to caring.
I turned back.
"Up. Again."
Tano moaned. "Already?"
"Already."
Mira pushed to her feet first. Sword still in hand. Jaw set.
"You better not be wasting our time, Lynch."
I cracked my neck.
"If I am, you can beat me senseless."
She almost smiled.
Almost.
"Whatever."
Twenty-one bodies—thin, weak, underfed—dropped back into stances.
I walked the line. Correcting. Pushing. Ignoring the curses under their breath.
This body of mine was still trash. Skinny arms. Shallow lungs. Core barely flickering.
But it was moving better already.
One cycle of Equilibrium at a time.
One breath.
One spark.
The Ashen Sovereign wasn't back yet.
But he was waking up.
And he was taking the whole damn sect with him—whether they liked it or not.