The fire crackled softly in the clearing, casting flickering shadows across the trees as the night deepened. I sat near the flames, my body sore from the day’s training, but my mind was elsewhere. The fight with the bandits had been days ago, but it still lingered in my thoughts, the weight of my decisions pressing on me more than I had expected.

I was 17 now. It felt strange to think about. Most boys my age were still working on farms, apprenticed to blacksmiths, or dreaming of adventures they’d never have. But I was here—alone in the forest, training under a man whose past was more mysterious than anyone I’d ever known. And unlike them, I wasn’t dreaming of adventure. I was chasing revenge.

My 17th birthday had come and gone without ceremony. Alric hadn’t mentioned it, and I hadn’t brought it up. It didn’t feel important anymore. What did it matter, really? Age was just a number, another marker of time passing. And time, to me, had become something distant—measured only by how much stronger I had grown, how much closer I was to my goal.

As I stared into the fire, I thought about the past. About the farm. My parents. The life that had been taken from me. It felt so long ago now, like something that had happened to someone else. Someone younger, someone who hadn’t yet understood what the world really was.

“You’re thinking too much again,” Alric’s voice broke through my thoughts, calm and steady as always. He sat across from me, his eyes reflecting the glow of the fire. “You need to learn when to stop.”

I glanced at him, frowning slightly. “It’s not that easy.”

“I never said it was,” he replied, leaning back against a fallen log. “But if you let yourself get lost in thought, you’ll lose focus. Focus is what keeps you alive.”

I sighed, rubbing a hand across my face. “I know. It’s just… everything feels heavier now.”

Alric tilted his head, studying me for a moment. “Heavier how?”

“I’m 17 now,” I said quietly, my gaze dropping to the ground. “I’ve been training with you for almost a year. And yet, I don’t feel any closer to… what I want.”

Alric was silent for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Because you’re looking for something that doesn’t exist.”

I looked up at him, my frown deepening. “What do you mean?”

“You’re chasing a feeling,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “You think that once you’ve avenged your family, once you’ve killed the demon, everything will fall into place. That you’ll feel satisfied. Whole. But that’s not how it works.”

I clenched my fists, the familiar frustration bubbling up inside me. “Then what’s the point? Why train me? Why teach me if you don’t think it’s going to matter?”

Alric’s gaze didn’t waver. “Because it does matter. You need to be strong. You need to be able to face the demon. But strength alone won’t give you what you’re looking for.”

I didn’t respond right away, my thoughts churning. I hated how he always seemed to know exactly what I was thinking, how he always had an answer for everything. But deep down, I knew he was right. I had spent months chasing power, training relentlessly, but the closer I got, the more distant my goal felt.

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I turned back to the fire, my jaw clenched. “I’m not just chasing power,” I muttered. “I’m chasing justice.”

“Are you sure?” Alric’s voice was quiet, but it cut through me like a blade. “Or are you chasing revenge?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. We both knew the truth.

The next day, we resumed training as usual, but I couldn’t shake the conversation from my mind. Alric’s words hung over me like a shadow, making me question everything. Justice or revenge? Was there really a difference? Did it matter?

I pushed the thoughts away as we moved through our drills. My body moved almost on instinct now, reacting to the Flow around me, adjusting to every shift in the terrain. But today, my focus wasn’t as sharp as it had been. My mind kept drifting back to the past, to that day, to the demon.

“You’re distracted,” Alric said, his voice cutting through the stillness of the clearing.

I gritted my teeth, blocking out the noise in my head. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “You need to focus. Your age doesn’t matter. The demon doesn’t care how old you are or what you’ve been through. It only cares about whether you’re prepared.”

“I am prepared,” I snapped, my frustration boiling over.

Alric’s gaze hardened. “Then prove it.”

Before I could react, he moved. Faster than I had ever seen him move before. One moment he was standing a few feet away, the next, he was right in front of me, his hand outstretched. I barely had time to register the attack before I reacted on instinct, using Auto-Dodge to sidestep his strike.

But Alric was relentless. He pressed forward, his movements precise and controlled, forcing me to retreat. I tried to use Slip to unbalance him, but he anticipated it, shifting his weight at the last second. His strikes came faster, sharper, and for the first time in a long while, I felt truly tested.

I used Analyze, my mind breaking down his movements, searching for an opening. But Alric was a master of the Flow, and every time I thought I had him, he shifted, adapting faster than I could predict.

“You’re too focused on your past,” Alric said, his voice calm even as he attacked. “You let it cloud your judgment. You’re thinking about what you’ve lost, not about what you’re doing right now.”

I growled in frustration, parrying his strikes but unable to gain any ground. “I’m not distracted!”

“Yes, you are,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re letting your anger control you.”

I swung at him, aiming for his side, but he deflected the blow effortlessly. “What’s wrong with that?” I snapped. “You’ve told me before—sometimes you need to be ruthless!”

“There’s a difference between being ruthless and being reckless,” Alric said, his voice growing more intense. “And right now, you’re reckless.”

I felt the heat rising in my chest, my frustration turning into anger. I wanted to prove him wrong, to show him that I wasn’t some child who couldn’t control himself. I was 17 now. I was stronger than I had ever been. I was ready.

But as I swung at him again, Alric moved faster than I could track, slipping past my defenses and striking me square in the chest. The force of the blow knocked the wind out of me, and I stumbled back, gasping for air.

Alric stood over me, his expression calm but stern. “You’re stronger, yes. But you’re not ready.”

I struggled to catch my breath, the weight of his words settling over me like a heavy cloak. I was angry—angry at him, angry at myself, angry at the world. But beneath that anger was something else. Something I didn’t want to admit.

Fear.

Alric reached down, offering me his hand. I hesitated, then took it, letting him pull me to my feet.

“You’re not ready because you’re still letting your emotions control you,” he said quietly. “Until you learn to master that, you won’t be able to defeat the demon. You won’t be able to face what’s coming.”

I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. He was right. Again. I hated it, but he was right.

“I’m 17 now,” I muttered, my voice bitter. “I should be ready.”

Alric smiled faintly, his expression softening. “Age doesn’t make you ready, Niv. Experience does. And you still have much to learn.”

I clenched my fists, feeling the frustration bubbling up again, but I pushed it down. He was right. I wasn’t ready. Not yet.

But I would be.