Baptism by Fire

Hibiki woke to the scent of damp earth and the distant chirping of birds. His body ached from the relentless training, every muscle burning with exhaustion. But he forced himself to sit up. He could not afford weakness. Not anymore.

The elf was already awake, sitting by the fire and sharpening a short blade with slow, practiced movements. She did not look at him as she spoke.

“You lasted longer than I expected,” she said.

Hibiki wiped the sleep from his eyes. “You expected me to fail?”

She chuckled. “I expected you to break. But you are still here.”

Something about her tone made Hibiki’s chest tighten. It was not quite praise, but it was not mockery either.

“Eat,” she said, tossing him a small cloth bundle.

Hibiki unwrapped it to find a simple meal ( dried meat, a chunk of bread, and a flask of water ). He ate in silence, savoring the food more than he should have. It was not much, but it was the first meal he had eaten since…

He stopped himself from thinking about it. About the village. About his parents. If he let himself sink into grief now, he might never crawl out of it.

The elf finally sheathed her blade and stood. “We leave in an hour.”

Hibiki hesitated. “Where are we going?”

She gave him a long look before answering. “To make you stronger.”

They traveled deep into the wilderness, far from any roads or villages. Days passed in a blur of brutal training.

The elf drilled him endlessly, forcing him to swing his dagger until his arms felt like they would fall off. She taught him how to move without making a sound, how to read the wind, and how to strike with precision instead of wild desperation.

But it was not just physical training. She made him think.

“What is the fastest way to kill an enemy?” she asked one night as they rested by the fire.

Hibiki frowned. “Stab them in the heart?”

She shook her head. “Wrong.”

“The throat?”

“Still wrong.”

Hibiki scowled. “Then what is it?”

The elf poked the fire with a stick, sending sparks into the air. “You kill them before they ever draw their weapon. Before they ever see you coming.”

A chill ran down Hibiki’s spine.

He was not just learning how to fight. He was learning how to win.

Weeks passed, then months.

The weak, fragile boy who had stumbled through the forest was gone. In his place was something sharper, something harder.

He could fight now. He could hunt. He could survive.

But it was not enough.

One evening, as they sparred, Hibiki threw everything he had into his attack. His blade was a blur, his footwork precise. He had improved. He knew it.

And yet, the elf dodged every strike as if she could read his mind. With a single, effortless motion, she disarmed him and drove him to the ground. Before he could react, her boot pressed against his chest.

Hibiki clenched his teeth. “Damn it…”

The elf looked down at him. “Frustrating, is it not?”

He did not answer.

She removed her foot and stepped back. “You are fast. Strong. Smarter than most. But you lack something crucial.”

Hibiki pushed himself up, breathing hard. “What?”

She met his gaze. “Magic.”

Hibiki froze.

He had seen magic before. The elders in his village had used it to extract mana crystals, to light the great hall, and to heal the sick. But he had never been taught. His people had kept their magic hidden from outsiders, using it only for survival.

And now, they were gone.

The elf crossed her arms. “Do you want to learn?”

Hibiki’s answer was immediate. “Yes.”

A rare smile flickered across her face. “Then it is time to begin.”