Training commenced again four days after the Abbot's death. The village had focused on rebuilding and recovering. Nobody worked harder than Liwei Zhang, he pushed himself relentlessly, he pushed his army just as hard. He allowed no slacking, some called it hell, but Liwei couldn’t risk another defenseless attack.

Silas and Dre worked harder than ever before. They now sparred with the rest of the monks, learning new combat techniques, weapon skills, and methods of discipline. Yet, their eyes kept drifting to Liwei Zhang, sweat streamed down his face, but he didn’t relent. One by one, training dummies shattered under his strikes. That night’s failures haunted him.

If only I had seen through the traitors…

If only I had awakened sooner…

If only…

Nearby, Silas and Dre clashed in brutal sparring. Soldiers watched uneasily.

“These three are going crazy today.”

“They blame themselves.”

“We all do. We didn’t see those traitors either.”

“And now the Abbot is dead because of it… If that lightning kid hadn’t shown up when he did? We’d be dead too.”

“Poor kid… locked in his room since the funeral…”

Killian had been confined in silence, sitting in his room since the funeral, he hadn’t spoken a word to anyone. He ate in silence, thought without end, slept only in short, restless bursts. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the men he killed, heard their screams, felt electricity burning uncontrollably through him.

He wanted to go home, even if there wasn’t anyone there.

Anything felt better than this. Anything felt safer than what he had become.

But hiding wasn’t helping. And something inside him whispered: You have to face it, or it will control you.

So, he dragged himself to the Abbot’s training room.

He descended down the stairs and the memories pulled at him, the laughter, the grind, slipping on the floor, and enduring the hardship together. A faint smile touched his lips as he entered the room. He reached the pillar and pushed the button. 

Ten dummies surged forward.

He readied himself but his powers didn’t answer.

“Come on… please…”

A dummy slammed into his jaw. Killian crumpled to the ground and more piled on, swinging relentlessly. He curled into himself, teeth clenched. Shame, fear, rage, all of those feelings overwhelmed him.

And then—

FWOOM.

Wind erupted from his body, hurling the dummies into walls. The world blurred and shifted.

Killian opened his eyes to a dead field: brown grass, leafless trees, cold air, endless gray sky, just like his trial. He looked up, his guardian descended, towering and familiar. Killian still refused to call him a god, it clashed with everything he believed.

“I failed,” Killian said, voice cracking. “He trusted me, trained me… and I couldn’t save him”

The guardian knelt to meet his eyes, smiling, “You are a failure.”

Killian froze.

“A nobody. A kid who should stay curled up forever… right?”

“Wrong.” The guardian’s smile softened. “You came into this world with nothing. You fought for your friends. Survived a trial that would break grown men. And you killed only when you lost control of your emotions. But those people would have killed you had you not done the same.”

“But this version of you, curled up on the ground, that is a loser. I don’t give powers to losers.”

Killian’s tears fell silently, “it’s okay to be scared, to feel regret and shame for what you did. You cry because killing isn’t easy, because you care.”

 The guardian placed a heavy, reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You must choose your path. Become strong enough that you never need to kill… or accept that sometimes, you will have to.”

The world began fading away.

“But whatever you choose…”

“...I’ll be watching, Mr. Kingston.”

Killian blinked and was back in the training room. Dummies surrounded him. He felt his power surging through him again, it made his hairs raise, quickening his steps.

He tore through the dummies with controlled precision, forcing himself to stay calm even as ten more rushed him. They pinned him and the fear rushed back in.

No… not again…

His guardian’s voice thundered in his mind, “control yourself.”

Killian took a deep breath and unleashed everything in a focused blast. He slammed the stop button and collapsed against the wall, chest heaving. He thought of the man in the hood. The traitor. The spy. The village that sent them.

“They’ll attack again,” he whispered. “They have to.”

A cold certainty filled him. He wouldn’t wait for it. He’d have to meet them head-on. But first he’d need to help restore Ishu Chu. Strengthen its people.

And then—

Killian tightened his fist.

He’d take the fight to Mechu. They’d struck first. Now it was his turn.

He hit the button to start the next wave of dummies and readied himself. He needed to prepare if he wanted to take down Ihuoin Mechu.

And save the village.