Lockless rose early, as always. The morning cold hung heavy over the forest, and a low mist wrapped around the house. Sitting across from Matheo, he explained with stern gravity what was to come.
“Your training will have two fronts,” he said, voice deep. “The first goal: strengthen your body until you can fight and endure like a true combatant. The second: learn to sense the Black Light in the world around you.”

Matheo nodded firmly, though his eyes betrayed his anxiety.

“To survive the first goal, three conditions are non-negotiable.”

Lockless raised a finger for each rule:
“You will be responsible for bringing food and water every day. If you fail, we both starve.

“You’ll have until eight in the morning. After that, I’ll drag you back, and if you’ve failed, we’ll spend the whole day without eating or drinking water.”

“On your return, you will always perform the same physical training: one hundred sit-ups, one hundred push-ups, one hundred squats. No excuses.”

Huh…

Matheo blinked.
“Wait… are you serious?” He arched his brows, incredulous. “That’s the lamest workout I’ve ever heard of. A hundred, a hundred, a hundred? Sounds like a joke.” He forced a nervous laugh. “What’s next, shave my head and go bald?”

Lockless didn’t smile. He only stared with the calm of someone who had seen too many young men die from arrogance.
“You think it’s ridiculous because you’ve never pushed your body to its limit,” he replied, his voice low as a blade. “A hundred push-ups tear your muscles. A hundred squats destroy your legs. A hundred sit-ups shred your abdomen. Do this every day, for weeks, and your body will beg to quit. It will cry, tremble, plead to stop. But if you don’t yield, you’ll be reborn stronger.”

He leaned forward slightly, eyes shining with almost feral intensity.
“It’s simple, Matheo. Ridiculously simple. But it’s not the number that matters. It’s the discipline of continuing when your body believes it’s already dead. And if your body doesn’t die, that means it’s enduring the Black Light. After all, the only way to finish this training is if the Black Light is already pouring out from your core.”

Matheo swallowed hard, unable to answer. Suddenly, those “one hundred, one hundred, one hundred” no longer sounded like a joke. They sounded like a sentence.

“And at the end of each day,” Lockless added, ”we will fight. The fight ends only when one of us can no longer stand.”

Silence hung for a few seconds before Lockless continued:
“The second goal may seem simple, but it’s not. Every day you will meditate. Not to rest — but to feel. The Black Light is in everything: in the air, in the earth, in cold and in heat. Until you can sense it, you will never truly awaken the five faces. And remember: if you cannot feel it, your body will collapse under the training.”

Matheo drew a deep breath. It was a heavy burden, but within him there was only one answer.
“Let 's begin.”

It was still dawn when Matheo left the house. The icy air cut against his skin, but he pressed on, determined. His wounds had fully healed, and he could finally begin his training. He strapped on an old wristwatch he had found in Lockless’s drawer. He needed to bring water and food by eight o’clock.

The forest, however, was anything but easy. Animals were quick, cunning, and as someone who had grown up at its edge, Matheo knew this well. He also knew he wasn’t far from where his house once stood — and remembered that this region was notorious for wild boars.

He breathed deeply, trying to recall his father’s teachings. Antoine always said a good hunt began before even seeing the animal. One had to read the forest’s signs: tracks in the soil, broken branches, the sudden silence of birds.

With this in mind, he walked slowly, alert to the slightest detail.

An hour dragged by in careful steps until he found what he was searching for: broad, deep tracks, still damp from the season’s rain. The boar had passed through recently. Matheo’s heart raced.

Following the tracks, he kept a safe distance, every muscle on edge, his breath short.

Then he saw it.

The beast stood still, snout digging at roots near a fallen tree, oblivious to him. Matheo crouched, creeping into its blind spot until he judged himself close enough to strike with a leap.

With his father, the scene would have been different: Antoine always carried a hunting weapon. But now Matheo was alone. No shotgun, no bow, nothing — only his willpower and the power he had just begun to manifest.

He recalled Lockless’s demonstration the day before, and the countless times he had watched warriors in his town wield the Black Light.

Maybe… maybe I can reproduce it.

He focused on his feet. Closed his eyes for a moment, picturing heat gathering in his heels like coals ready to explode. The plan was simple: unleash enough energy to propel himself at superhuman speed and reach the boar in the blink of an eye.

Well… the rest I’ll improvise.

“That’s it… an explosion…”

The explosion came, but not as planned. Instead of blasting forward, his body shot backward awkwardly. In an instant, head and feet swapped places, and he crashed onto his back with a hard thud that knocked the air from his lungs.

Ghh

The muffled cry was enough. The boar lifted its head, sniffed the air, and bolted frantically into the forest, smashing through branches as it vanished.

Matheo lay there gasping, pain throbbing through his back, frustration burning inside.
“I guess… it’s not as easy as Lockless made it look.” He muttered, staring at the sky a moment before staggering to his feet, still dazed.

Frustrated, he changed plans: water first. He listened intently looking for the sound of running water. When he finally heard the murmur of a river, his heart leapt. Running to the sight of clear water flowing south felt like discovering treasure.

He pulled out the plastic buckets he had prepared before leaving and filled them quickly. By luck, a few fish flopped inside.

At least we’ll have something to eat.

That was when the ground beneath him glowed. A circle formed — the only word Matheo could think of was magical — and suddenly the air turned scorching. The heat was suffocating, his eyes burned, and a pillar of fire engulfed him.

The roar of flames was deafening. He tried to scream, but then all went silent.

Before him, Lockless appeared, standing as if nothing touched him.
“Good morning, boy,” he said calmly. “I see you’ve managed our water and food.”

Stunned, Matheo looked around. He was back in the house. The buckets sat on the floor, untouched. He lifted his arm and saw the watch pointing precisely to eight o’clock.

Lockless gave a half-smile.
“From now on, every day will be like this.”

Back at the Ministry of the Manifested, after the investigation in Highrock, Minister José was gathered with his advisors in a wide room. Beside him, Pedro operated a massive glass screen. The video looping before them froze their blood. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of white points glowed in the heart of a dense forest in Minas Gerais, the state bordering São Paulo.

Pedro zoomed in, and the dots sharpened, pulsing like embers within the dark. Together, their glow formed a living mantle, a swarm in motion. Silence filled the room; even breathing felt too loud.

José stepped closer, eyes fixed on the brightest point at the center — a light outshining all others, like a miniature sun.

“The more Black Light, the brighter the glow…” Pedro said, hesitant, voice faltering. “And this one… this isn’t from any ordinary warrior.”

The minister clenched his fists on the table, jaw tight.

Pedro continued, almost too afraid to finish:

“This means the Nyrr… aren’t just hunting. They’re gathering around something. Or someone.”

A shiver ran through the room. The central glow pulsed on, hypnotic, as if the drone itself was about to be devoured by the light.

José drew a deep breath, but his voice came low, heavy with gravity:

“It’s as if they’re preparing for war.”