The cool predawn air wrapped around the Valverde estate as a faint glow on the horizon hinted at the approaching sunrise. The sky was painted with deep purples and oranges, a gentle promise of the day to come. It was barely 4 a.m., and the grounds were still shrouded in shadows, the only sound are the distant rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of early birds stirring in the trees.

Arden, already awake and moving with the quiet grace of someone accustomed to early hours, made his way outside. Something about the stillness of the morning always reminded him of the mountains—the cool earth underfoot, the scent of dew on grass, and the silence that seemed to breathe with the forest itself. As he approached the training grounds, the sound of deliberate movements and labored breaths caught his attention.

There, under the faint light of the moon, the General was practicing Pangamut. His strikes were sharp but rigid, his stance determined yet uneven. The cane that usually supported him lay discarded at the edge of the field, a silent testament to his refusal to be limited by it. His face was set in a grimace, every swing of his arm betraying both strength and strain.

Arden leaned casually against a nearby post, observing in silence for a moment before speaking. “Impressive for someone up before the roosters, but you’re trying too hard, General.”

The General froze mid-strike, his eyes narrowing as he turned to see Arden approaching. “Morning, boy. Thought I’d get ahead of the day.”

Arden smiled faintly, stepping into the clearing. “Good effort, but you’re forcing it. Pangamut isn’t about forcing—it’s about flowing. You can’t fight the Agos, sir. You have to move with it.”

The General raised an eyebrow, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Flowing, huh? Easier said than done.”

“Let me show you,” Arden replied, stepping closer. He gestured for the General to mirror his movements.

With effortless precision, Arden began demonstrating the fluid strikes and blocks of Pangamut. His movements were seamless, each flowing into the next like water over rocks. The General, despite his initial stiffness, did his best to mimic Arden’s grace. The sharp crack of palm against wood rang out, the rhythm of their training filling the otherwise quiet morning.

“Relax your shoulders,” Arden instructed, circling him. “Your power doesn’t come from your arms; it comes from the way your body works together. Breathe In through your nose, out through your mouth. Match your breath to your movements.”

The General followed Arden’s guidance, and gradually, his rigidity gave way to smoother, more deliberate movements. A faint warmth began to stir within him, a sensation he hadn’t felt in decades. He could feel the tension in his muscles ease, his body moving more freely, more naturally. His strikes grew stronger not because of force, but because of the harmony he was beginning to find within himself.

“That’s it,” Arden said, his voice calm yet firm. “Now, sit. It’s time for the real work.”

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The General complied, lowering himself to the ground in a cross-legged position. Arden knelt behind him, placing a steady hand on his back. “Close your eyes. Breathe deeply. Feel the energy inside you and let it move. Don’t control it—just let it flow.”

The General’s breaths slowed as he focused, his body relaxing further. Arden began channeling his own energy, his mastery of the Agos allowing him to guide the General’s stagnant flow. He could sense the blockages within the General, the places where the flow of life had been dammed up, like a river halted by fallen trees. With each breath, Arden gently pushed, coaxing the energy to move, to find its natural path once more.

The shift was immediate. The General’s body shuddered as blocked energy began to break free. His skin flushed with heat as a surge of dark sweat poured out of his pores, carrying with it the accumulated toxins of years. The foul odor was overpowering, but neither Arden nor the General flinched. The old soldier gritted his teeth, his fists clenching and unclenching as the energy surged within him, unfamiliar but invigorating.

The air around them grew dense with energy as a golden light began to envelop the General’s frame. Then, with a sudden burst, a wave of spiritual force erupted outward, rippling through the training grounds and stirring the surrounding trees. The leaves above them rustled as if in a wind, though the air remained still.

As the golden light subsided, a faint, melodic hum lingered in the air. The General’s body, once weighed down by time and hardship, seemed lighter, almost radiant. His chest rose and fell with steady, controlled breaths. The lines on his face softened, and a youthful vigor replaced the weariness that had long settled in his eyes.

The General’s breakthrough wasn’t just a release of energy; it was a transformation. His movements now carried a fluid precision that felt both natural and effortless. He could feel every beat of his pulse, every sensation coursing through his limbs as if his entire being had been rewired. The realization struck him with awe—he wasn’t simply restored; he was renewed.

Manuel, startled awake by the commotion, rushed outside, followed closely by a few bodyguards. They arrived just as the light faded, stopping in their tracks at the sight before them. Their expressions ranged from shock to awe as they took in the scene.

The General stood tall, his cane forgotten on the ground, his upper body bare and glistening with a healthy sheen. He flexed his hands experimentally, his expression a mix of wonder and awe. “I feel... incredible,” he murmured.

Manuel approached cautiously, his jaw dropping. “What in the world just happened?”

Arden, arms crossed, smirked. “The General broke through to the Agos Realm. Not just the First Gate—he’s now at the peak of it. A Master of the Mortal World Realm.”

The bodyguards exchanged uneasy glances, their disbelief evident. Manuel, snapping out of his shock, turned to them with a sharp glare. “This stays between us. Understood?”

The guards nodded in unison, though the incredulity on their faces lingered.

The General, now exuding an aura of strength and confidence, laughed—a deep, hearty sound that carried across the grounds. He turned to Arden, his eyes serious. “Boy, whatever this gift is, it’s more than just strength. It’s purpose, isn’t it?”

Arden nodded, his expression calm but resolute. “The Agos isn’t just power, sir. It’s balance. It’s life itself. There’s a greater imbalance in the world—one that’s growing every day. I’m here to protect it, but I can’t do it alone.”

The General placed a firm hand on Arden’s shoulder, his gaze unwavering. “You have my word. Whatever it takes, whatever the cost, I’ll stand with you to protect the balance.”

For a moment, the training ground was silent, the promise hanging in the air like a solemn vow.

Arden stepped back, a faint smile on his lips. “Then we’ll start by mastering this together. There’s more to learn, General.”

As the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon, the General, renewed and determined, nodded. “Lead the way, boy. I’m ready.”