Chapter 9: Forged (Part 2)

"I’m going to help you, my friend," I said more softly. "We’re going to break out of this prison you’ve locked yourself in. You’re not alone."

With a shaky sigh, Hasar nodded. His resistance, that barrier he had built around himself, was beginning to crumble. He knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy, that the pain he had buried for so long would finally have to come out. But he also knew he wouldn’t have to face it alone.

That night, under the stars, I knew we had taken the first step. One of many that would have to be taken to reach our destination. I would help him walk that path, step by step.

Or so I would tell him if we had time. If things were different, maybe I could help him little by little, pull him out of that fog with patience. But I knew we didn’t have time. The danger was closer than Hasar realized. I couldn’t let him keep evading reality. His family was in danger, and he, the warrior who had once been a shield for his own, was trapped in his own fear. So I decided to act faster, much faster. I wasn’t going to wait; I couldn’t. I would make sure he took the final step right now, my way.

"Hasar," I said in a deep voice, "wake up."

Don’t kill him, I told myself.

Without waiting for his response, I hit him in the chest with all the force my arm could muster without using prana. The impact shook him from his spot, stumbling backward with wide eyes, not understanding at first what had just happened. I rushed at him before he could even regain his balance, landing another blow on his ribs, this time with more force, sending him crashing to the ground with a loud thud.

"Get up!" I yelled, my voice echoing in the stillness of the night. "Is this all you’ve got? Where is the warrior I once knew?"

Hasar slowly got up, confused, anger flickering in his eyes for the first time in years. I had rattled him, but it wasn’t enough. I charged at him again, hitting him in the jaw. He barely managed to lift his arms to block it, but the impact knocked him down once more.

"You’re not hiding anymore, Hasar. Get up and fight!"

Don’t kill him, I repeated to myself, control the force. You can do this.

I gave him space to stand, hoping his instinct would kick in, that the spark in his eyes would turn into flames. But he kept resisting, still trapped in the fog of his own mind. His movements were clumsy, his eyes hesitant.

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Not yet. But I’ll get there. Even if he hadn’t actively trained his prana, ten years of passive accumulation and constant physical labor had built a solid foundation. A good vessel. All he needed was the will to fill it.

"Is this how you’re going to protect your family?" I spat with disdain. "Do you think this world will wait for you? No, Hasar. The danger is already here, and you can’t protect anyone if you keep running from who you are."

The words cut my tongue like a hundred blades as they left my mouth. But they were necessary. I had to do it.

With a roar of frustration, he threw a punch at me, but I blocked it easily. His technique, once sharp, was now clumsy, without strength, without conviction. I hit him again, this time in the stomach, making him double over in pain.

"Come on, Hasar. I know you’re still in there." My voice was low, almost a whisper, as I leaned over him. "The will of a warrior is the most important thing. It’s not your muscles or your weapons. It’s your will to protect what you love. And right now, you don’t even have that. What are you but a walking corpse? I don’t doubt your love for your family, but your selfishness is killing them, though they haven’t felt it yet. Like a thirsty man drinking poison to quench his thirst."

I stepped back, giving him time to process my words. I saw him breathing heavily, his hands clenched on the ground as he tried to stand once again.

Not yet... still not enough.

Before he could fully rise, I kicked him in the side. A liver shot. Even the best warriors can’t withstand such a blow. It wasn’t about pain, it was about anatomy. The nerves there control blood flow and the heart; the impact severed the brain’s control over the rest of the body, forcing it to collapse.

He tried to resist, but it was useless.

On the ground, I kept hitting him.

Punch to the abdomen.

Elbow to the jaw.

Right punch to the side of the face.

Don’t kill him, I repeated to myself.

Left punch.

Control the force.

Another punch.

Don’t use prana.

In the end, only a bloody face looked back at me. He wasn’t dead yet, but I wasn’t sure if I would manage it. It seemed like I was going to break him before I could save him. I stepped away from him.

"Get up!" I screamed with all the air in my lungs.

But something had changed in his eyes. It was no longer just anger or frustration. There was something else. Something deeper. It was his will, the will to survive, to fight for what mattered to him.

"Stand up," I ordered, my voice firm. "Or show me that you’re willing to let everything you love crumble."

Hasar rose, unsteady, but his eyes now shone with an intensity I hadn’t seen in years. His body trembled with exhaustion and pain, but his will was ignited. He charged at me again, with more strength this time, and though I blocked his first blow, the second caught me in the jaw. The impact was brutal, unexpected, making me stagger back for the first time in the entire fight. I tasted the metallic tang of blood in my mouth, a drop falling to the ground with an almost imperceptible sound.

I stood there, motionless for a second, feeling the tingle of the hit on my face. And then, I smiled.

"Finally..." I murmured, with a mix of relief and pride. "I finally saw my friend. Not an empty body, but the real Hasar. I knew you were in there."

Hasar, breathing heavily, looked at me in disbelief, not fully understanding what had just happened. But I knew. That spark, that flame I had seen extinguish years ago, was burning again. And though the road ahead would be long and painful, at least now I knew Hasar was willing to walk it.

My friend was alive.