The Weight of Strength

The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. Hibiki stood at the edge of the clearing, his muscles sore from the relentless training. The shattered remains of yesterday’s stone still lay scattered across the ground, a reminder of his progress.

Yet, despite his success, the elf was far from satisfied.

“Power without control is as useless as a dull blade,” she said, tossing him a wooden staff. “Your fire is strong, but brute force alone will not always win your battles.”

Hibiki gripped the staff, rolling his shoulders. “Then what will?”

The elf smirked. “Technique. Precision. And knowing when to strike.”

Without warning, she lunged.

Hibiki barely had time to react before her staff came swinging toward his ribs. He stumbled back, raising his own weapon to block. Wood clashed against wood, sending vibrations up his arms.

She did not stop. Another strike came from above. He barely deflected it before she twisted, sweeping at his legs. Hibiki jumped back just in time, his breath sharp.

“You are thinking too much,” she said. “Again.”

The fight continued, each exchange faster, sharper. Hibiki’s arms ached, his grip tightening with each block. He tried to predict her movements, but she was too quick, too fluid.

Then, just as he thought he had her pattern figured out, she switched her stance entirely. The sudden shift caught him off guard. A hard jab to his stomach knocked the wind from his lungs, and before he could recover, her staff struck his wrist. His weapon flew from his hand, landing in the dirt with a dull thud.

Hibiki clenched his teeth, doubling over as he caught his breath.

The elf planted the end of her staff into the ground and tilted her head. “Dead again.”

He glared up at her. “I noticed.”

She crouched beside him, her expression unreadable. “You fight like someone who has never had to kill.”

Hibiki froze.

The words hit deeper than he expected.

He had trained. He had endured pain, exhaustion, and endless drills. But she was right. He had never taken a life. He had never crossed that final line.

Not yet.

She stood, offering him a hand. “When the time comes, hesitation will get you killed.”

Hibiki took her hand, pulling himself to his feet. “I will not hesitate.”

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment before she turned away. “We will see.”

That night, Hibiki lay awake, staring at the sky. The stars were endless, stretching across the darkness like distant embers.

He replayed the fight in his mind, every mistake, every failure.

She was right. He still lacked something. Not just strength, not just speed.

Resolve.

He had told himself he wanted vengeance. That he would burn the kingdom that had stolen everything from him. But had he ever truly thought about what that meant?

The faces of the soldiers who had stormed his village flashed in his mind. The blade that had cut his mother down. The bloodstained hands of the king’s men.

His fingers curled into fists.

He would not hesitate.

Not when the time came.

The flames inside him would never die out. Not until he had burned them all.