Kain Reyes’ Training Log - Month 1
Location: Belmont’s Safe House, Deep Woods
Journal Entry
Month 20XX, Day XX
It’s been a few days, but they’ve felt like entire lifetimes. Each one stretches me thin, leaving just enough time to catch my breath before I’m pulled under again. one after the other, each day clawing at me, demanding more than I knew I had.
Every part of me aches—muscles and bones that feel raw, as if they’ve been taken apart and put back together, but never quite right. My mind’s no better, scattered and fragile, like it’s barely holding together under the strain of everything Belmont and Doc have thrown at me. And the hunger… it’s always there, lurking, a constant reminder of what’s at stake.Coiled in the shadows of my mind, gnawing at me, a reminder of the darkness that’s always waiting.
But I’m still here, somehow. I keep pushing forward, even when I want to let go. Every day, I’m changing a little more. I’m stronger, yes—but there’s something else. Something darker. I feel the pull, that gnawing hunger, growing with each passing day. I’m starting to understand that this power isn’t just about strength. It’s a challenge—a question of how far I’m willing to go and what I’m willing to lose.
And from the way Belmont and Doc talk, it’s clear they’re only just getting started. Belmont’s been hinting that the real training is still ahead. He says he’ll push me to the edge of my limits and then past them. “True strength,” he tells me in that calm, focused way of his, “is born when there’s nothing left but will. We’ll break past your limits and see what you’re truly made of.”
Doc, though… he’s something else entirely. He’s not satisfied with pushing me physically; he’s after something deeper. He keeps whispering in the back of my mind, urging me to let go of my hesitation, to embrace the power lurking just beneath the surface. There’s a kind of dark thrill in his voice, like he’s savoring every moment of this. “Oh, don’t fight it, Kain,” he says, his tone like honey over razor blades. “Why hold back when you could be so much more? There’s beauty in giving in, in becoming what you were meant to be. Isn’t that what you want? Power without restraint?”
I asked him once why he’s helping me, why he’s pushing me down this path. He laughed, a low, dangerous sound that wrapped around my thoughts. “What’s life without a little fun, kid? I’m just here to give you a nudge, help you find out what’s lurking in that soul of yours. After all, I do hate to see potential go to waste.” I can almost feel him smirking, but there’s something behind that tone—a hint of something old, something weary, as if he’s been where I am now and knows all too well what I’m facing.
Between him and Belmont, it feels like they’re both tearing me apart and remaking me, each in their own way. Belmont is pulling me toward discipline, tempering my strength like a blade. Doc… he’s the devil’s temptation, guiding me to explore every shadow, every dark corner of my soul. He’s leading me to confront the parts of myself I’d rather ignore, showing me that there’s power in embracing the chaos.
I know they’re going to push me further, take me to places I haven’t even imagined yet. The last few days have been brutal, but what’s coming… I can feel it like a storm on the horizon. If I thought I’d been to hell and back, I’m sure what they have planned will make that look like child’s play. It’s going to be something out of this world—probably in the worst way possible. But maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what I need. To be broken down to the core and see what’s left when there’s nothing left but the hunger.
Week 1 - Foundation and Fundamentals
The first week, Belmont introduced me to something he calls The Astral Flow, and at first, I thought it was some kind of meditation exercise. Turns out, it’s much more than that. The movements are slow and deliberate, almost like a kata, but each step is infused with purpose, each gesture a link to something beyond myself. It reminds me of Tai Chi, but even older ancient, almost sacred. Belmont says it’s about channeling energy from the stars, grounding it, bringing that cosmic strength down into my own body. When I move through the sequence, I can feel it—a pull, a whisper of energy wrapping around me like a second skin, seeping into my muscles, my bones. There’s a hum in the air, faint but steady, as if the universe itself is watching.
The Astral Flow is meant to connect me to something bigger, to pull strength from the cosmos. Belmont calls it an old tradition among his people, and he talks about it with a kind of reverence, like it’s a gift he’s passing down. He says every turn, every breath is a tether, keeping me anchored even as I draw power from the stars above. When I close my eyes and focus, I can almost feel the weight of the cosmos, the vastness pressing down, grounding me. It’s strange, humbling, but there’s also a thrill to it—a sense that I’m touching something ancient, something that’s been waiting for me to reach out.
While Belmont has me focused on star energy, Doc has a different agenda entirely. He’s relentless about this idea of mastery. He doesn’t care about the stars or the flow of energy around me; he’s all about what’s inside, about understanding what he calls the Core. To Doc, this is everything. He drills me, day in and day out, pushing me to take command of every part of myself—not just my muscles or my reflexes, but every cell, every heartbeat, every breath. It’s about control on a level that feels almost primal, something deeper than just skill or strength. Doc talks about it like it’s a fortress, a mental shield against the hunger, the void that’s lurking just beneath the surface.
He doesn’t have a name for it, but I’ve started thinking of it as Self Control, and it’s more than just a technique—it’s a lifeline. Without it, I’d be nothing but a slave to the hunger, that gnawing void that’s always waiting, ready to tear me apart if I lose focus. Doc says it's the anchor that will let me stand firm when everything else is falling apart.
One night, I finally asked him why he’s helping me. He just laughed, his voice a soft echo in the silence, and said, “Well, let’s just say I’m bored. You’re a curiosity, Kain, and I do so enjoy a bit of chaos.”
There was a glint in his eyes as he spoke, the kind of wicked amusement that I’d come to expect from him. But there was something else too, something deeper, almost hidden. It was a moment, a flicker, but I caught it. A hint of something almost like pride. He’s never outright admitted it, but sometimes I get the sense that Doc’s madness wasn’t always there, that maybe he didn’t always dance on the edge of the abyss.
Now and then, memories surface of his teachings, back before he fell into whatever darkness consumed him. I think there was a time when he had a different kind of purpose, maybe even a good heart, buried somewhere under all the shadows. Maybe I’m just guessing, maybe it’s just wishful thinking. But it feels like a part of him wants to pass on whatever he knows, even if he’d rather chew off his own hand than admit it.
He may make up stories, spin his words like silk, but I’ve learned to listen between the lines. There’s a method to his madness, a strange kind of wisdom in his chaos. And as much as he plays the devil, I think he sees a bit of himself in me.
“Impressive progress,” Belmont said one night as we wrapped up training, his tone softer, almost admiring. “Most warriors need years to even glimpse this level.”
Doc snorted, never one to let me get too comfortable. “He’s got a long way to go. Don’t go filling his head with any ideas. We’re just getting started.”
Between the two of them, I feel like I’m being pulled in opposite directions, like I’m walking a tightrope with a storm raging on either side. Belmont wants me to connect, to find strength in something bigger, while Doc pushes me to focus inward, to build a fortress within myself. And yet, somehow, the combination works. They’re both guiding me, shaping me, each in their own way. I’m becoming something… different, something that’s not just about strength or control, but a fusion of both. It’s a strange path, a balancing act, but for the first time, I feel like I’m not just surviving—I’m growing, evolving. And I can’t imagine it any other way.
Week 2 - Breaking and Reforging
This week, Belmont introduced me to something he calls The Trials, and it’s every bit as grueling as the name implies. I’m not just running—I’m tearing through forests at dawn, sprinting uphill with every muscle burning like they’re about to snap. Belmont has me carrying stones up craggy mountain paths, my shoulders straining under the weight until I feel like my bones are grinding down. He’s got me climbing sheer cliffs, my fingers digging into rough rock, every scrape and bruise a reminder that there’s no easy path to strength.
He calls it body tempering, and it’s not for the faint-hearted. Belmont talks about it like it’s a rite of passage, a trial that all Lupus warriors endure. “The body needs to break if it’s ever going to be reforged,” he says, his voice hard but almost reverent. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve collapsed, panting, covered in sweat and dirt, but he just watches, waiting, like he knows I’ll drag myself back up. And I do, because with every grueling step, I can feel something inside me growing, a resilience I never knew I had.
But if Belmont’s training is harsh, Doc’s is downright twisted. Traditional strength doesn’t mean much to him. Instead, he’s got me diving into a more visceral form of training, something that goes beyond muscle and bone. He watches with a cold, calculating gaze as I learn to reshape myself from the inside out, to Shifting, as I’ve started calling it. It’s brutal, almost grotesque at times—my muscles tearing apart, then knitting back together stronger; my bones shifting, adjusting, thickening as I push through each exercise. It’s like my body is clay, and I’m molding it, forcing it to become something harder, tougher.
At first, I felt like a freak, a monster twisting itself out of shape, but the power that comes with it is undeniable. “Don’t get too attached to your current form,” Doc told me one night, his voice almost philosophical, which is rare for him. “Your body isn’t a prison. Adapt it. Reinvent it. Make it what you need.”
And he’s right. With every session, I’m feeling more like a weapon that’s constantly being sharpened. My fists feel heavier, harder; I can punch through solid wood now, feel my bones absorb the impact without a fracture. The strain is unreal, and the pain… the pain is constant, a throbbing reminder of how much I’m pushing my body past its limits. There are nights I can barely move, my muscles screaming in protest, but there’s a satisfaction in it, too—a twisted kind of thrill in knowing I’m not just training; I’m transforming.
Belmont, meanwhile, watches this transformation with a mix of curiosity and something that almost looks like respect. He’s not as talkative as Doc, but I can feel his eyes on me, weighing my progress. “We Lupus warriors believe in fortifying the body,” he said one evening as he watched me practice, his gaze steady. “But your ability to adapt… that’s something rare.” He speaks about endurance, about building strength through suffering, and I realize that in his eyes, pain is a currency, something to be spent for the sake of becoming more than human.
It’s an unforgiving path, but with every passing day, I feel the edges of my strength hardening, my body learning to withstand what would have broken me a week ago. I’m learning to carry the weight of it all, to let the bruises and cuts become a map of my progress. I don’t know where this path ends, but for now, I’m willing to keep walking, one agonizing step at a time.
Week 3 - Energy Control: Unknown Path
I've made incredible progress in The Astral Flow. I can feel it the energy that gathers in me as I perform the mystifying dance, The Star Energy gathering more and more like a volcano waiting to erupt as I channel the cosmos directly into my body. Belmont says this practice has been a tradition among Lupus warriors for centuries, a way of grounding oneself to the stars and finding balance. Each movement is precise, deliberate. I can feel the energy flowing in, filling my veins with something ancient, something powerful. The Star Energy is unlike anything I’ve ever felt—a raw, cosmic force that hums with life.
While Belmont has been guiding me in the ways of Star Energy, Doc’s taken me through the Mana side of things, though he’s not one for names. He just says I need to focus, to let the energy become a part of me. He has me practicing these long, meditative stances, drawing the cold, cutting energy of Mana deep into my core. He says it’s more than magic; it’s about control, reshaping the world around me. I’ve started calling it Melding, because it feels like I’m molding reality, bending it to my will.
But even with their guidance, I can’t help myself; I need to push the boundaries. I’ve started experimenting, drawing on Qi, Mana, and Star Energy all at once, letting them intertwine. I know it’s risky, maybe even impossible, but there’s something in me that needs to try.
When I first attempted it, I could feel both of them in the back of my mind, their voices flickering like twin flames. Doc, curious but skeptical, muttered something about me being “a freak of nature.” Belmont was quieter, almost reverent, like he was witnessing something sacred.
“You might just pull it off,” Belmont’s voice whispered, though he sounded as if he were trying to convince himself. “Most would be torn apart by now, but… perhaps you’re different.”
Doc snorted. “You’re skirting the edge, kid. Don’t get cocky. But… if you could actually merge them all, you’d be reaching into something no one’s ever touched. Dangerous? Definitely. But it’d make you a legend, that’s for damn sure.”
With each practice, I can feel the energies beginning to harmonize. Qi pulses with heat, grounding me, while Mana chills my mind, sharpening my senses. And then there’s the Star Energy, a current that feels like I’m tethered to the cosmos itself. It’s like juggling fire, ice, and stardust in perfect balance. My body trembles with the strain, and my mind teeters on the edge, but each time, I manage to hold it a little longer, pull them a little closer.
Belmont watches, both in awe and in worry. “What you’re doing,” he said, “is something we’ve only seen in legends. If you keep going, you might achieve—a state that goes beyond anything a single energy could offer.”
I can sense it now, something on the edge of possibility. A balance that feels both fragile and unstoppable, a force that’s mine alone. It’s terrifying, and yet… I can’t turn back. Not now.
Doc grinned. “Oh, he’s a walking arsenal, alright. That’s why I’m here—to make sure he doesn’t implode before he sees what he can do.”
It’s during this time that I feel something new awaken. I’ve started calling it “Thunderheart”—it’s like my body can absorb any energy, not just lightning. It’s as if I’ve become a conduit, channeling every force that touches me, bending it to my will. Belmont mentioned old legends about warriors with this power, but he said it’s a rare gift, something most only dream of.
Week 4 - Legacy Training: Walking with Ghosts
By the fourth week, Belmont and Doc have had me diving into the techniques of the lives I’ve absorbed. Steele, Ingrid, Fiona, Caleb—all of them left something behind, and I can feel their skills fading, blending into mine. But before they disappear, Belmont’s been teaching me to use them. Steele’s endurance, his control over every breath; Ingrid’s icy calm, her ability to draw energy and keep herself steady; Fiona’s raw, destructive force—all of them linger like echoes in my mind.
Doc has me focusing on mental fortification. He says it’s crucial, that if my mind slips, I’ll be lost. He calls it the Iron Will, and he’s made it clear that if I can’t face the hunger, it’ll take me over. He pushes me to face it, to channel it, to turn it into fuel.
“It’s not just about resisting,” Doc told me. “It’s about embracing it, using it. Don’t let it own you—you own it.”
Belmont, meanwhile, keeps pushing me physically, putting me through sparring drills, pushing me to the edge. It’s as if he’s waiting for something, some proof that I won’t break. They’re testing me, looking for something more, and I’m learning to thrive in the chaos.
At the end of each day, I feel the changes settling in, the hunger beneath the surface, a beast waiting to be fed. But I’m still in control. For now, I’m holding it together. And if I can keep it that way, maybe I can figure out what I’m becoming.
Today, I finally reached a point where Qi, Mana, and Star Energy moved through me in perfect resonance. Doc called it “Elemental Resonance.” Belmont simply nodded, that proud look in his eyes again, as if I’d fulfilled some unspoken expectation. It’s an eerie harmony, balancing energies that shouldn’t coexist, but it makes me feel… complete.
Journal Entry
Month 20XX, Day XX
Reflection
It’s been a strange, brutal month—feels like a year crammed into four weeks. I’ve been picking up pieces, trying to make sense of what I’ve become and where this is leading. Some abilities have stuck with me, like echoes of old voices, their whispers shaping me, guiding me down this path. When I think back on what I’ve learned, what I’ve gathered… it’s like I’m looking at puzzle pieces that finally fit. They're the tools that keep me standing in a world that keeps pushing back, harder each day.
Yet this power that wells from deep within me—maybe the core of it all. It’s what lets me pull everything together, every thought and action sharpened with precision. Control over my body, my mind, my cells—it’s like a fortress I’ve built from the inside out.
Feels like I’ve sharpened myself into something more deliberate, able to move in tune with each moment, every part of me in alignment. It’s a strange power, one I don’t take lightly. Some might call it mastery
Doc says its understanding your Core, but to me, its so much more, it’s survival.....hope the thing that lets me walk this razor’s edge without slipping. I can feel every inch of my being under command, the cells bending to my will, thoughts honed with clarity that comes only through purpose.
The hunger, though, it’s constant, gnawing. But I’ve found a way to channel it, something I call The Biomass Technique. At first, it felt like a curse, this endless need to consume, to absorb. But Doc shown me there’s more to it—a way to adapt even to transform, depending on what I need. Pain turns into strength, and I’ve learned how to use it to evolve on the fly, adapting to whatever’s thrown my way. It’s like I’m built from something more than flesh now, something malleable, waiting for me to shape it, to reinforce muscle, bone, sinew—they’re no longer fixed. They’re malleable, waiting for me to command them, to reshape them into something that can withstand anything. With Doc guiding me, it’s as if I’m no longer just human but something designed for survival in its rawest form.
And then… then there’s the energy, the charge that runs through me. fierce, wild, uncontrollable—Thunderheart, I call it. Belmont says it’s a rare physique, the kind of force that belongs to legends, not people. Doc sees potential, but to me, it’s a reminder of just how far this journey could go. The once wild, untamed force, the lightning crackling beneath my skin, barely contained. Now though, it’s become more than just lightning—it’s a conduit, a receiver for more than just lightning. It’s like I’m able to hold any energy, absorb it, make it a part of me. I feel that charge, thrumming through me, waiting to be unleashed, something that makes me feel alive in a way that nothing else can. Belmont talks about legends, about warriors with this power, but to me, it’s a reminder that I’m not who I once was. I can feel the raw potential waiting, the edges of my abilities barely touched, and it thrills me. Doc, too, seems impressed. “Power’s no fun if you’re not willing to test it,” he murmured with a glint in his voice, a challenge disguised as a suggestion.
My cultivation with the stars themselves, has progressed rapidly as I repeatedly drill that series of movements he calls The Astral Flow—the mystic, rhythmic of a kata that feels like drawing the heavens into my body, one breath at a time. I remember how it felt that first night, clumsy and disconnected, my mind distracted by the thousands of things that weighed on me. But now, a month in, each movement feels like it’s rooted in something ancient, something that reaches back to the beginning of everything.
When I start the flow now, I can feel the stars aligning, almost like they’re waiting, watching, connecting with me. Belmont’s there, steady as ever, guiding me with words that feel timeless, like they belong to some ancient sage. “Feel the rhythm of the universe, Kain,” he says, his voice calm, reassuring. “You’re not just drawing energy; you’re reaching out and letting it flow through you. The stars—they’re a part of you. They’re as old as time, and when you move with them, you’re tapping into that eternity.”
At first, it was hard to believe that something so simple could hold so much power. But as I’ve trained, his words have sunk in. Now, when I move, I feel the energy humming around me, weaving through my body like threads of light. It’s not just my arms or my legs—it’s every part of me, in sync with the pulse of the universe. Belmont watches, sometimes nodding, always a calm presence beside me, radiating a quiet wisdom. He speaks like he’s sharing secrets, things I’d have never understood before, but now they seem clear, like pieces finally falling into place.
“Patience is a strength, Kain,” he reminds me whenever I get too eager, too caught up in the rush of it all. “Power that comes quickly slips away just as fast. But when you draw on the stars, you’re building a foundation that will last. You’re becoming more than you know, and in time, you’ll see it too. You’re not here to fight against the world—you’re here to move with it, to become a part of it.”
In those moments, I feel a strange peace settle over me, like the edges of everything are smoothing out, grounding me. There’s a deep, calm power in those movements now, a strength that doesn’t come from rage or hunger, but from something else—something steady and unbreakable. And I realize, with Belmont’s guidance, that I’m not just learning to wield energy. I’m learning to harmonize with it, to find a rhythm that feels as old as the earth itself.
A month of the Astral Flow, and I can feel the difference. It’s not just training—it’s like I’m aligning with something beyond myself, letting it guide me forward. Belmont says the stars are endless, that I’m reaching for something that has no limit. And now, standing here, I almost believe him.
He never really said what would happen if I tried balancing Qi, Mana, and the Star Energy all at once. I don’t think he thought it possible. But one night, after training, as I continued to toe the line, to blend the three into a single, harmonious pulse. I pulled them all together, it felt like standing on the edge of a storm, energy coursing through me in ways I couldn’t have imagined.
Qi’s warmth, Mana’s chill, and the limitless pulse of the stars all merged, feeding off each other in a precarious balance. I could hear both Doc and Belmont murmuring in the back of my mind, half amazed, half wary. There’s something about this that feels like I’m playing with fire, like I’m tapping into forces that shouldn’t belong in one person. But for now, I’m holding it, and it feels like I’m more alive than I’ve ever been.
I never would have understood any of it a few months ago. But now, it’s like I can feel these forces weaving through me, blending into something that feels almost impossible, merged, feeding off each other in a precarious balance. I rather like the name Doc called it and Belmont seems to agree as he echoed the name, as such I've decided Elemental Resonance just fits, and it’s the kind of balance that shouldn’t exist. I’ve found a way to hold it all—fire, ice, the vastness of the stars—contained, flowing through me in tandem. There’s something about this that feels like I’m getting ready to bungee jump off the edge of a cliff only there's no bungee and I have one foot off with howling winds at my back, tapping into forces that shouldn’t belong in one person. But for now, I’m holding it, and it feels like I’m more alive than I’ve ever been.
Finally are the techniques I’ve inherited, refined remnants of lives that merged with mine. Each technique—a breath, a stance, a pulse of energy—keeps their memories alive.There’s the Iron Mantle Breathing, something that fills my lungs with an endurance I didn’t know I had. And then Frost Meditation, a way to let the cold seep in, to embrace it, making it a part of me. And Glacial Pulse, a reminder of what it feels like to be sharp, unbreakable, like ice itself. They’re fading, those voices, but what they left behind is stitched into me, fueling this endless march forward.
In the last week, I took on a new form, something I pieced together from memories of Belmont and Doc when they were younger, a shape I call Seth. It’s not just a disguise; it’s like becoming a shadow, moving in and out of places without a trace. I’ve been slipping into town, catching rumors, observing. People are always talking, spinning stories about the strange things happening around Bakersfield. They mention a guy who went missing—no one seems to know who he is, just that he vanished. There’s talk of him being some drifter, probably just another runaway, but a few of the old-timers remember seeing him around. Says he looked spooked, like he’d seen something no one should see.
And then there are the theories, the little jokes that people toss around like they don’t believe a word of it. Some guy at the gas station claimed he saw a beast out by the hills, something moving on two legs, eyes glowing in the dark. Everyone laughed it off, said he’d had too much to drink, but he looked deadly serious. Another rumor cropped up about an alley where people say shadows move on their own, like they’re watching, waiting. Some kid even joked about it being “vampires,” with that sarcastic grin, but I could see the flicker of something real in his eyes, something that told me he might have seen something, felt it, even if he’d never admit it.
They’re just whispers, stories spun around the coffee shops and street corners, but I know better. The darkness here isn’t some urban legend—it’s real, and it’s growing. I’ve hunted some of it, creatures that moved wrong, things that felt twisted, corrupted, like they’d been tainted by something they couldn’t shake. They’re not much different from me, in a way, bound to something dark, something that drives them. But while they let it consume them, I’m learning to control it, to bend it to my will.
This month has changed me. I’m not sure who I am anymore—only that I’m something more than what I was. I’ve taken from others, their lives merging with mine, their skills and memories forming a twisted mosaic. But I can’t dwell on what it means, not yet. There’s no time for that. The powers they left behind are mine now, tools for the road ahead. And as long as I keep moving, keep growing, I’m holding onto a piece of them. Maybe that’s the only way any of us survive.
When I look at what I’ve become, I don’t see a hero or a villain. Just a man who refuses to break, a survivor armed with borrowed strength, staring down the unknown and ready to face whatever’s next.
A month in, and I’m more than I ever thought I’d be. I’ve got Belmont’s pride, Doc’s challenge, and a hunger that won’t let me rest. They’re with me, guiding me, pushing me, as I take my first steps into this new world. They’ve given me strength, but it’s my choice how to wield it.
Belmont and Doc are planning something, I can tell. They talk about the trials ahead, how they’ll push me further, past limits I can’t even see yet. If the last few days were anything to go by, what’s coming is going to be something out of this world, and not in a good way. Belmont’s quiet about it, but there’s a resolve in his voice, a sense of something he’s holding back. Doc, though… he’s practically giddy, taunting me with promises of what’s to come, as if he knows I’ll keep pushing, keep reaching for that next level, no matter what it costs.
So that’s where I’m at. Stronger, darker, hungrier. I’m not the same man I was, and I can’t go back. The road ahead is twisted, filled with monsters and shadows, but that’s fine by me. Because I’m becoming a monster of my own.
I’m more than I ever thought possible, but I can still feel the hunger, still hear Belmont and Doc pushing me forward. They’re both watching, both waiting to see how far I can go. There’s something they’re not telling me, a reason they’re guiding me like this. But I’m not the same man I was, and whatever they want, I’m ready.
And if the world’s not ready, that’s its problem, as for those things that go bump in the night the quiet whispers, mysterious rumors well they can keep their secrets, their shadows, their monsters. I’ll be there, waiting.