Time passed.

  Days turned into weeks.

  Weeks into months.

  With every sunrise, Samye trained — spiritually, physically, relentlessly.

  His body hardened.

  His movements sharpened.

  His breath learned rhythm.

  Weapon by weapon, he became efficient. Not flashy. Not reckless.

  Efficient.

  Even Kayal began to notice.

  “You adapt fast,” Kayal said one evening, watching Samye reset his spear stance for the fifth time without instruction. “Too fast.”

  Samye didn’t reply.

  What the village saw was discipline.

  What they praised was dedication.

  But the truth behind Samye’s effort was darker.

  Fear.

  Fear of losing someone again.

  Fear of failing when it mattered most.

  Fear that next time, he wouldn’t survive.

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  And worst of all—

  Fear of disappointing himself.

  That fear became fuel.

  Samye studied every weakness of ability wielders.

  Timing gaps.

  Overconfidence.

  Recovery delays.

  Power isn’t unbeatable, he reminded himself.

  People are careless.

  And he trained like someone preparing for the worst possible future.

  Six months later—

  The village gathered.

  Drums echoed through Kamaskh. Banners rose. Warriors assembled.

  It was time.

  The Grand Combat Trial.

  A competition held once every year to determine the strongest fighters of the village.

  Samye stood among the participants, spear in hand.

  The announcer’s voice carried across the arena.

  “This year, ten contestants have been selected!”

  Cheers erupted.

  “Among them—six Grade B ability users!”

  More cheers.

  “Two special combat veterans — warriors whose experience rivals Grade C ability wielders!”

  The crowd roared.

  “And finally—our trainees!”

  Samye and his training partners stepped forward.

  The announcer smiled proudly.

  “New blood. New resolve.”

  Applause followed — hesitant at first, then louder.

  Samye’s heartbeat quickened.

  Sweat formed at his palms.

  This is it.

  But not everyone was impressed.

  One of the ability users smirked, eyeing Samye dismissively.

  “An outsider?” he scoffed. “You don’t deserve a place here.”

  A few others chuckled.

  Samye’s grip tightened.

  Doubt flickered for a split second.

  Then—

  This isn’t about approval.

  He steadied his breath.

  It’s about whether I can stand when it matters.

  He lifted his head, eyes focused.

  “Power and strength decide everything,” Samye thought calmly.

  “So let’s see… if I’m capable.”

  The horn sounded.

  The trial began.