Wind breathed, touching the endless plains and hills below them. A world touched by emptiness, that was the best way to describe the scene upon which he stood. A man walked, a white, thin blade in his hand. His face, looking young yet ancient, his age almost indistinguishable.

 Upon the scorched grounds, under the sun, there were no colors in that world. The ground, gray stone. The skies, gray without clouds. Some would even swear the sun was turning gray, colorless, motionless.

 The man stood still, his ragged gray shirt and dark pants adding to the colorless world. His faint skin, colorless as it was, was perhaps the only color to that world. A hint of salvation in that dead world.

 Closing his eyes, the man stood. Motionless, deep in thoughts, he no longer used his eyes to glance upon the plain world. Yet, the world was not merely colorless, he could not smell, could not hear. As if the only sign of life was the wind as it touched upon his face. reassuring him, the world still lives. For now.

 Breaking the silence, a black mass moved at the horizon, heading towards the man. The abomination almost had no shape, a writhing mass of flesh and darkness, making no sounds as it moved. Its flesh rotten gray, it added nothing of color to the dying world. Even with the rot, it had no smell. This place has become death. She… must be stopped.

 Moments later, the creature had crossed hundreds of meters. It was even worse up close, endless bones as claws and blades. The creature moved not through its own merit, but through something that broke the rules of the reality that everything lives by. Its bones, harder than steel. Its writhing flesh moving faster than anything had the right to move.

 The ragged man slowly moved his sword, the demon upon him. He swung his blade down, calmly. A line of light appeared opposite to his sword, as blade and energy crossed in the middle.

 Chunks flew behind the man, as the abomination was cut apart effortlessly. Yet, it was not simply physically cut. It was truly dead, its very curse cut. The demon didn’t bleed, nor did it shout or scream. It turned from life to death without a single whisper. Those… abominations. Defying every rule of this world. He grunted.

 He put his blade back in its sheath, as he walked silently once more. All of a sudden, defying the silent world, the wind thundered as it boomed above.

 The sword saint looked at the sky intently, muttering. “Change… is coming!”

- - - - -

Jorish held his spear as sweat dripped from his head. Well, calling it a spear is a bit… thought Jorish as he held what would be at best described as a ‘pointy staff’. Well, at least it IS pointy. After a few months of traveling, the weather had become less extreme. The sun still shone in the sky displaying its glory, but no longer was its fury deadly. The sweat on his face was not due to the heat; The sun-forged body was barely affected by temperature and light. Instead, it was out of fear and tension.

 Jorish held his spear stressfully. He had fought literal beasts in the trials before, beasts that were literally trying to kill him. But this…

 In front of him stood Traves who was holding a stick. A literal stick. Jorish thought, his last months reminding him to not look down on the stick. Even if he knew that Traves was limiting his strength.

 Traves smiled “Ready?”

 Jorish gulped as he nodded. Then, it all started. Traves vanished, appearing in front of Jorish. Jorish, now slightly more used to sparring with Traves, immediately thrust his spear forward. His spear burst forward almost instantly, as the air around him boomed. Yet, Traves sidestepped it effortlessly, swinging his stick toward Jorish.

 Jorish, expecting that result, stepped back. Traves stepped forward mid-swing, his stick whistling as it switched directions to hit Jorish’s arm instead. How does that fragile stick not break, and hurt so much?! Jorish grunted as he felt the pain in his wrist, slightly feeling better as the sunlight shone on him, feeling his energy return to his body.

 Traves waited a few seconds for him to recover before he rushed forward again. Vanished again, he appeared to his side. Jorish swung his staff with his full force toward Traves, who jumped back. The staff hit the floor in a loud thunder, leaving a small crater in the sand and stone. Traves immediately jumped back in, swinging his stick like a sword towards Jorish. Jorish recovered, as he tried to parry the strikes with his spear, barely able to keep up with Traves’ rapid strikes. It was only a moment later that he got struck down again, and again, and again.

 An hour later, Jorish fell down on the ground, enjoying the heat of the sand and stone as it spread around his back. Jorish had felt tired, yet more than pure exhaustion was the pain that he felt at every point in his body. He was starting to consider if Traves just enjoyed tormenting him. Well, it wouldn’t be the first nor the last time I think about that. Jorish knew, the pain in his neck from the last strike flaring up.

 Traves sat next to him, as he spoke. “Good work as always, Jorish!”

 Jorish grunted, replying. “I am just getting beat up. This body is truly miraculous, yet compared to her, I am still weaker.”

 Jorish thought about Anise, after her bloodline awakening she had become much, much stronger. Even after becoming a practitioner, he was still not her match physically. He was able to give her a fight, but only for so long. And then there is Traves, when they fought, he had been moving and striking slower and weaker than Jorish, much weaker. Yet, almost magically, he would always slip between his Strikes and hurt him with a stick of all things. And it wasn’t a sturdy stick specifically, after a certain sparring session Jorish asked to check out the branch that Traves had used as a weapon. It was flimsy, cracking in half without any effort.

 Jorish knew it was something to do with energy, using energy to enforce objects was one of the things he had been learning about from Cail. Jorish had come very close to building his energy foundations, but he wasn’t there yet. Jorish sighed as Traves spoke, interrupting his thoughts.

 “Jorish, what do you think is the strong point of your body?”

 “Well, I do know that I am much stronger. I do feel that the sun does help me get stronger. I am not sure what else.”

 Jorish shook his head as he asked again. “Let me reword that. What are the sun’s strengths?”

 “The sun is bright and merciless. Furious and burns everything!” replied Jorish.

 “That is all correct but you forgot the most important part. The sun is unending. The sun keeps shining, time passes and civilizations live and die. Yet it stays, ever shining in the sky.” Said Traves as he pumped his fist on Jorish’s shoulders. “Later, when you finally get used to your body completely and get your energy cultivation high enough, you will truly understand what this body is truly capable of. For now, just make sure to familiarize yourself with it as much as possible”

 Jorish couldn’t deny Traves’ words. He had to admit, the power he had felt with his body was terrifying at times. His spars with Anise were getting more and more destructive, and fun. He was getting there, but he was not there yet. Traves continued as he was still thinking.

 “One thing that people forget is that bodies and energies are just tools. If you do not use it correctly, it doesn’t matter. The reason I beat the sovereign wasn’t that I was stronger, because I was not. Neither was he not using his strength correct, he is a Monarch. It was simply that I was better. Sometimes, you need to not think about how you can go to the next level of strength. Instead, focus on how you can use your strength to do more, how to use the tools you have to beat your opponent, regardless of their strength.”

 Jorish nodded as he stressed his body, standing up. He walked to the side as he grabbed his brown cloak, wearing it. As much as he enjoyed the sunlight and the wind, the sand and bugs blowing at his body can be very uncomfortable. He followed Traves as they met up with Anise and Cail near their camp.

 “Alright, kids! Let's move out, we can reach the city today if we hurry up enough!” said Traves.

 The group started moving, following Traves as they moved. Jorish wasn’t sure why Cail refused to use his artifacts or his abilities most of the time, more satisfied to just play around with his spherical tool as it shone in his hands. Jorish shook his head as he walked behind Traves. Hours later as the sun started to drop, announcing the approaching dark, Jorish started to see the outline of the city. It felt weird seeing a city without an eye, but Traves’ next word confirmed the suspicions he had at that moment.

 “Welcome, friends. To the free cities of Tenes!”