“Is this the best you can do?” Instructor Clave said and showed a devilish smile. “I guess you won’t be able to save your mother after all. Ahh, how disappointing, I got all worked up for nothing.”

Philip gritted his teeth and picked up the rock again. “Again.”

“Another failure?” the middle-aged man taunted the little boy. “Fine, fine, ten minutes. Once you make it past ten minutes, we’ll go to the next stage. If you can, that is. But considering your progress these past days, I’d say it's close to impossible. And that’s me being nice.”

Ignoring instructor Clave’s taunting, the little boy once again entered the horse riding stance, a stance where one’s legs are firmly planted in the ground, one’s back is straight, and one’s torso pokes outward. It enhances overall endurance, balance and leg strength.

A large boulder, the exact same boulder that had Philip expelled before, was placed on top of Philip's back. His arms were held out and allowed him to keep his balance. If he were to move even slightly, he would drop the boulder.

“Seven minutes.” stated instructor Clave. “Better than before. But not enough. Again.”

The training continued for the whole day with an exception of a ten minutes break each hour. It was so physically taxing for the little boy so that his vision blackened a few times.

Once noon, the other kids came. They threw him a glance, but after hearing the story, they paid him no need anymore. He trained by himself, all alone, in the corner, no one to talk to– though that didn’t matter to him. He had a goal, a goal he would sacrifice his youth for, so it was not very annoying for him to have no one except his instructor to talk to. Maybe it was even better that they didn’t speak to him. He could then full heartedly focus on training.

“Thank you for today, Sir Clave,” said Philip. “I promise I will succeed tomorrow.”

“The path of a warrior is a long one. A mile is walked by taking one step at the time. Set up a goal each day. A realistic one. “ said Instructor Clave. “Also, empty promises means nothing. You’d do best to remember that in the future!”

Instructor Clave was right when he said Philip wouldn’t be able to stand on his own legs. The middle-aged man had to literally carry the little boy all the way home. As Philip lay down in his bed after coming home and eaten dinner, it didn’t take long for him to doze off– or to be more exact, it happened instantly, like an explosion– Bam! Asleep!

The fifth day was the same as the fourth. Philip didn’t break through the seven minute’s threshold but still improved his time by a couple of seconds. He had felt several malicious gazes during the training and understood it must be the other kids.

“It’s the sixth day tomorrow. The third day of my training.” Philip said to himself while lying in bed. Thrusting a fist up in the air, tightening it, he swore an oath. “Since Sir Clave told me to set up a goal, I will– I, Philip, shall do my best to improve my time every day, and it doesn’t matter if it’s one or five seconds or even ten seconds, as long as I see an improvement I will never see the training as useless!”

Several days passed by in a flash, and the little boy had already been training for thirteen days, the thirteenth day being the day he finally broke through to the eight-minute threshold.

“Eight minutes and three seconds.” said instructor Clave. “Not bad.”

“And yet,” said Philip, “it’s not enough by far.”

“I certainly can’t refute that, get past ten minutes and you’ll have something to boast about.” Instructor Clave said and looked up to the sky, revealing a self-pitied smile. “And this is merely the beginning. You'll need a lot more before they’ll recognise you, I for one know that.”

"I’m ready to do anything it takes, Sir Clave,” said the little boy.

“I know, kid. But sometimes,” said Instructor Clave “things aren't as easy as we make them out to be. Either you have something or you don’t.”

“Now be on your way. As annoying as I find carrying you home every day, you should be able to manage yourself for tonight.

“Yes, Sir Clave. Goodnight.”

The evening was very breezy, and slightly cold, to say the least. Pulling together his training garment was the only thing the little boy could to do as he walked home. Summer was slowly changing over to autumn, and trees had begun to transform into paintings of orange gold.

As he walked in the darkness towards the house, he began hearing footsteps from around him. This was because of the crunching leaves, breaking apart as the soles of shoes pressed down on the hard soil.

“Who’s there?” shouted Philip. “Reveal yourself.”

“Sure thing,” said a voice.

The little boy felt something hard hit the back of his head. He fell down to the ground, his vision becoming blurry. He could feel fists rain over him, punching the air out of his lungs. It should hurt but it didn’t. He didn’t feel a thing, yet heard bones break – probably because of the hit to the back of his head. A faint metallic taste grew stronger in his mouth as the punches became even harder. He coughed, spat out a load of blood, his still mind spinning.

“That’s enough, guys,” said same voice. “He should've learned his lesson by now. Let’s go.”

The footsteps disappeared just as fast as they appeared, signalling their retreat with quick crunches. Philip groaned and rolled onto his back. There was a splitting pain in his chest and his left arm. Feeling wobbly, the little boy took a last look into the night sky, then fell unconscious.

"Sir Clave, he finally woke up." a woman's voice said. "Hey, Philip, how do you feel?

Philip woke up in a bed, the first thing he heard was a voice and then rapid footsteps.

Miss Brent, who had chosen to volunteer at the hospital and tend to the wounded, sat on a chair not too far away. Everyone knew how she had a thing for Instructor Clave, and since he was here the first two days after the incident, she very much stayed by his side the whole time, much to Instructor Clave's dismay as his wish was to just get it over with and go home.

"Kid!" said Instructor clave when entered the room and saw the little boy.

"Sir Clave," Philip replied feebly. He was still feeling quite wobbly.

"Who did this to you?" asked the middle-aged man, anger filling his eyes.

"I- I can't remember, it's..." Philip trailed off. "... it's all foggy in my mind, sir Clave."

"Try more," said Instructor Clave. "We need to find who did this. Maybe it'll happen to someone else."

The little boy tried as hard as he could to remember. He contemplated in silence while lying in the bed. Suddenly, a wrinkle appeared on his forehead.

"Did you remember anything?"

Philip wrinkled his forehead even more.

"I remember footsteps. Many of them," said the little boy slowly. "I could hear them from all direction, snapping leaves on the ground. Oh and I heard breaths– huffing and puffing. Or I didn't, I'm not sure. It's all foggy and hard to see.

"Don't give it any thought, let Uncle Clave fix this for you," said Instructor Clave and ruffled Philip's hair. "Get better quickly so we can get back to training. You have yet to last ten minutes.

"Yes, Sir Clave. I will heal as fast as I can."

instructor Clave laughed. "Don't rush. Now as you can't do anything physical for a couple of weeks, why not get a bit familiar with meditation?

"Meditation?"

"There are two steps to becoming a star warrior without an innate connection, " explained Instructor Clave. "As I told you before, the first one is to reforge the boy, making it able to bear the powers of a star. The second one, as I also told you, is to meditate, merge oneself with the starry sky above, become unfettered from all thoughts."

"Get into a cross-legged position like this," he showed. "Put your dominant hand on your lap and then your other hand on top of it. Breathe only through your nose, deep and calmly. The first step is to get rid of your thoughts."

"How do I not think?" asked the little boy, perplexed.

"That's for yourself to figure out. " said instructor Clave. "anyway, it's soon noon, I need to go."

He left through the door along with Miss Brent who followed him on his heels.