Sezha sat on top of the highest column overlooking the arid lands. All around him, black columns rose out from the dry earth like a forest of stone. He no longer looked the part of a scion to a wealthy merchant clan. His once soft hands had grown callused beyond recognition. The silky, coal-black hair that was washed daily had grown into a wild and unruly mess.

Everyone must look their part in life, Sezha’s father had once told him. Which begged the question, what role did he now play? He was no longer the heir to the clan—those aspirations had disappeared along with Yunan. His entire childhood had revolved around studying to be a great leader. It had given meaning to his life. Would bringing back Yunan give him back the heirship? Likely not. Moji was well entrenched in her role. Sezha had been discarded. While he should have been studying and forming alliances with other young nobles, Sezha was scouring through dangerous ruins for an apparition from his youth he may or may not have imagined.

No, he thought. It wasn’t something he could easily forget. His arm outstretched for his brother, tears dripping down his cheeks as the dark smoke invaded his body. As long as he lived, he would never forget, no matter how much time passed.

“You’re quite fond of brooding,” a woman’s voice said.

Sezha opened his eyes, turning to see a woman in a sleek, form-fitting purple dress standing on a column beside his. It matched well with her hair, which had been left unbound to flow freely. Although she was a strict mentor, the Prime’s beauty was undeniable. And every so often, she would appear before him in a different dress. If her background weren’t so strange and mysterious, he likely would’ve fallen for her long ago.

“I’m not brooding,” Sezha fired back. “Sometimes, I just need time to think, Honorable Prime. You should try it.” He said the last part sardonically. The Prime didn’t seem to mind when he snapped back, and sometimes, she even encouraged it.

“I’ve had time to think.” She folded her arms beneath her chest. “Perhaps a little too much time.”

They sat in silence for a short time.

“What’s next?” Sezha eventually asked himself.

The Prime chuckled softly. “Besides freeing me from this accursed place? I don’t mean to put a damper on whatever future plans you have but try not to think too far ahead. They’ll all be for naught if you perish here. ”

I think I’ll have a stew. His diet in the artificial world consisted of tasteless lichens and mushrooms. It had gotten to the point that he couldn’t even remember the taste of meat.

Sezha had to get his mind off meat. He leaped down from the column and walked toward his blade. It had been driven point-first into the earth just a few steps away. The blade could pierce through solid earth like beef tenderloin. Damn. He was doing it again.

He grabbed the sword by the hilt. It sat perfectly in his hand, but more than that, it was a part of him. An extension of his body, almost.

“You’re starting to look like a true swordsman, though you’re still far off from any true proficiency.”

“Swordsman?” Sezha said. “Hardly. I’m just a boy out of his depth.”

The Prime sighed and stepped off from the column. She landed gracefully on two feet. “You shouldn’t be so quick to put yourself down. You’re in a far better place than when you first arrived.” She paused, then barked, “Dragontail.”

Sezha snapped into action. His feet were wide apart, his sword held one-handed high above his head. The Dragontail Stance was designed for sweeping, powerful blows that emulated the power of the mythical dragons. It was hardly the most elegant or sophisticated stance the Prime had imparted to him, but it was the one he had picked up the fastest.

“Are knowing these stances enough? How do I know I won’t freeze up when the time comes?”

The Prime didn’t reply.

“Tell me honestly,” Sezha said, “do you really think I’ll be able to beat the Hunter?”

“Who can say?” The Prime shrugged. “I’ve done my best to prepare you. The rest is up to you.”

“That’s supposed to reassure me?”

His beautiful mentor gave an unladylike snort. “I’m not trying to coddle you. I’m laying the facts down as it is. There’s only so much I can do in this form. It’s natural to fear. It’s what keeps us on our toes. But if you let those emotions consume you, they’ll only work against you.”

“So, you’re saying my fears are my strength. . . and my weakness as well?”

“Is that hard to grasp?”

“It isn’t.” Sezha swung his blade down through the air in a great arc. His form felt perfect. “I understand completely. It’s about moderation. Have a healthy amount of fear to keep you grounded, but not so much as to cripple you.”

Although the Prime’s face didn’t seem particularly impressed with Sezha’s words, she still acknowledged him with a curt nod. “That’s a good mindset to have. Many warriors rely too much on foolish bravado. They don’t listen to their fears, and in turn, they ignore the very instincts meant to keep them alive.”

He nodded, placing the flat side of his blade against his shoulder.

“I suppose you’d want something more concrete than empty words to assuage your fears,” the Prime said, disappearing behind the bend of a tall column. “Why don’t you put your worries to rest through a practical exam?”

Sezha raised an eyebrow. “What do you have in mind?”

“Spar me.” The Prime’s voice echoed throughout the forest of stone columns. When she reappeared from around a different column, her dress had been replaced by a set of elegant white robes. A dark cloak sat on her shoulders, a stark contrast to the rest of her outfit. And at her waist was a thin sword, its metallic hilt gleaming under the unnatural light of the artificial world.

Sezha closed his eyes and breathed in. Stay calm, he demanded of himself. It was just another exam. He faced those down his entire life. Even if the subject matter wasn’t the usual arithmetic or history, he had to stay confident in his own abilities. When he opened his eyes, the Prime had already drawn her blade.

His grip on his sword tightened, knuckles pale as the cracked earth below his bare feet.

The Prime lunged forward with an overhand strike, her sword a silver blur through the air.

Sezha dodged the blow, backing away hastily. She swiped at him once more, and this time, her strike had come dangerously close to his face. He scrambled to the side, away from her dominant sword hand. Never let yourself be pushed back into a wall, one of the Prime’s first lessons on swordsmanship.

Before Sezha could return a strike of his own, the Prime tossed her blade to her other hand and forced him back with a lighting-quick thrust. His back slammed against one of the many columns surrounding them.

“Scared? It’s only light,” the Prime cooned. Her sword wouldn’t be able to hurt him. It was only a projection, after all. But Sezha felt that if he allowed himself to get touched, it would defeat the entire purpose of the exam.

Sezha didn’t fall to her provocations. She wanted him to rush in recklessly.

The Prime snatched her cloak off her shoulders and tossed it at Sezha. The dark cloth fanned out, momentarily blocking his line of sight before dissolving into the air. The Prime had vanished, likely hiding behind one of the columns.

“Why do you seek the heart of a Paragon?” her voice called out, echoing throughout the landscape.

“Are you asking me this now?” Sezha asked, spinning in search of her location.

“Is there a better time than now?”

Sezha frowned. “I need to repay a debt.”

“And what debt would that be?”

“It’s to bring my brother back. He was the glue that kept our family bound together. And it’s my fault he. . . disappeared.”

“Really?” the Prime asked. “You can tell me falsehoods all you want, but at the very least, don’t lie to yourself. What’s the real reason you seek the heart of a Paragon?”

“I want. . .” Sezha trailed off. He took a deep breath. Her voice was coming from behind the column in front of him. “I want to prove my family wrong.”

Sezha dashed around the corner of a column, his blade held out in front of him. The Prime wasn’t there.

“Your family?”

“I was shunned by my family for a mistake in my youth. If I want to prove them wrong, I’ll need the heart of a Paragon. Returning my brother to them is just an added benefit.” Sezha raised a hand to his forehead and sighed. “I know how bad that sounds, and it may be a little—”

“Selfish?” the Prime asked. “As opposed to being selfless?”

Sezha froze. Her voice came from behind.

He spun, his sword flashing out. “Yes, I’m selfish. But so were they. I needed them, and they cast me out.”

Once again, the Prime wasn’t there. Sezha clicked his tongue. How could he end this game of cat and mouse?

“So, this is revenge?” the Prime called from somewhere distant.

“No. . .” Sezha sucked in air through his teeth. “Why does this even matter?”

“You ask why this matters before the fight of your life? I know that look in your eyes. I’ve seen it a dozen times before when I’ve sent young greenhorns like you to their deaths. You intend to challenge the Hunter. But before that, your mind must be made resolute.”

Sezha slowly crept in the direction of her voice. “It isn’t about revenge.”

“So, is it for acceptance then? Every child longs to be recognized by their family.”

“I don’t care what they think. What if I just want to be. . . free?”

The Prime’s pale face darted out from behind a column, followed shortly by her slender figure. “Freedom, a noble goal.”

Sezha leaped at the Prime, his blade aimed at her heart. His thrust was off-target as the Prime danced away from him. He cursed under his breath. She was about as elusive as an eel in water.

His eyes widened in awe as the Prime twisted and spun between thrusts and slashes. Her steps seemed to be guided by the heavens, knowing just where he would strike next and when he would pull back. The skill of a true swordmaster was beyond what he imagined.

Sezha came to a stop, gasping for breath.

“Do you believe freedom can be so easily earned?” the Prime asked, her face taut with disapproval. “It’s a luxury provided only for the strong. Forget the Hunter. Even the weakest of Paragons are far above your current level. Right now, you’re so weak it’s hardly even amusing.”

Sezha hung his head. Frustrating as the Prime’s words were, she was right. He couldn’t possibly have hoped to become an expert fighter in the span of only a few weeks. If the Prime was serious, she could have killed him a dozen times over.

He stuck his sword point-first into the earth. “Then is this all pointless?”

The prime tossed her hair back and sighed. “Didn’t you hear me? I said you weren’t ready right now. Are you the greatest martial arts prodigy to grace Strife? That you could reach our level with only a few weeks training?" She paused, then added, “If any passing Paragon even caught a whisper of you muttering something about their heart, they’d turn you to dust in the blink of an eye.”

She stalked off, throwing her blade to the ground. Like her cloak, it dissolved almost instantly.

Sezha glanced at his sword, then pulled it from the earth. After wiping the sweat from his brow, he followed after his mentor.

The Prime sat on a stone, her eyes staring blankly up at the sky.

“What exactly is a Paragon?” Sezha asked. “Were you one of them?”

“No,” the Prime said. “But if you wanted any chance of surviving against one, you’d have to be at my level. The Paragons are no ordinary divine artists. They have had an eternity to hone their skills and strength. It isn’t a reach to call them the beings closest to genuine gods.”

Sezha settled down on a stone across from the Prime. “And I’m supposed to carve out one of their hearts?”

“Indeed.” The Prime crossed her legs and leaned forward, a dainty hand upon her knee. “Perhaps, by some windfall, you come across a fallen Paragon by the wayside. Ordinary weapons would shatter on their flesh. You’d need something that could kill even a god.” She squinted at his sword, which had been placed against the rock he was sitting on. “Though I doubt you could find such a thing anymore.”

“So immortals really exist. . .” Sezha massaged his temples. “I thought it was all myths.”

“Some are,” the Prime said. “Stories have a way of being exaggerated over the years. I wouldn’t be surprised if half the legends you grew up with were from my generation.”

Sezha tilted his head, a faint frown on his lips. “I’m curious, just how old are you?”

The Prime laughed softly, but Sezha didn’t see any mirth in her red, slitted eyes. “As you walk upon the Divine Path, you start to lose track of the years. I was born in the Age of Storms, a turbulent time marked by endless wars and famine. But this is of no consequence to you.”

Sezha nodded absent-mindedly. To think that a woman from the stuff of legends was teaching him swordplay. Moji would be green with envy. A hint of a smile rose on his lips. It felt good to finally have something his sister couldn’t take away.

“When will I be able to do. . .” Sezha hesitated. “Is it possible to become like you? A real, genuine divine artist.”

“What purpose do you think all this conditioning served? A proper foundation is crucial before the first step on the Divine Path. A weak and unprepared fool would rip themselves apart with their own qi otherwise.”

“Rip themselves apart?”

“Qi is the lifeblood of the universe. It’s what allows us, divine artists, to hold dominion over ordinary mortals. In its natural state, it has more than enough power to rend flesh and shatter bones,” the Prime explained. “As of now, you’ve only begun preparations to take your first step, the ability to sense qi in yourself and the natural world.”

The Prime climbed to her feet, dusting off her loose skirt-like trousers. “From there, you can turn qi into a weapon.”

“But how?” Sezha asked, rubbing his chin.

The Prime raised her hand, curling it into a fist. “Qi flows through every living. More specifically, their meridians. They act as veins, but for qi. The first thing a divine artist at the Foundation Realm learns is to channel their qi into limbs, imbuing them with power.” She punched out into the air, dark violet light swirling around her arm, then rising into the air before disappearing. “Undisturbed, qi is invisible to the eye of the average mortal. But when gathered in dense quantities, they take on physical form.”

Sezha’s jaw clenched. “I see,” was all he could force out.

The Prime plopped down—she sat like the monks Sezha had observed around Cheng-Kai—legs crossed, hands placed over her knees, and her eyes closed shut.

“But before manipulating your qi, you’ll need to realize its presence.” The Prime kept her eyes shut. “Most do this through pills, and some bold individuals even take qi-infused strikes. But since those means are not available to us, we’ll have to settle for mediation. It may be slow, but do it right, and you’ll see results eventually.”

Sezha nodded, then leaped off his rock to imitate her. He closed his eyes as well, although Sezha was unsure what exactly this accomplished. They sat on the dry earth in silence. However, the inside of Sezha’s mind was anything but. He was going to become a divine artist.