Chapter 7 — The Moonlight Stone and the Training

The first light of morning filtered through the inn's windows like a golden whisper, painting the aged furniture and rustic wood with a soft glow. The world seemed to stand still for a moment, as if Avalon, too, was breathing deeply with them.

Grumak and Malias descended side by side. Their faces were serene, but their eyes... their eyes still carried echoes of the night before. The shadow that had haunted them had vanished, but it left no peace—only questions.

At the counter, Balbito was waiting for them with a smile that almost hid the anxiety behind the kindness.

"Did you sleep well? Ready to pay off the debt?" he said, his ears curling in a friendly gesture.

“We are, Balbito,” Grumak replied firmly but politely.

Malias simply nodded. His gaze, serene as ever, hid the same uneasiness Grumak felt: the rest had been merely a break.

"Great. Then stop by the guild. Venlar will explain more about what you've agreed to," the old man said, turning to arrange some cups as if he hadn't just handed in a mission with decades of dust on his shoulders.

The guild headquarters smelled of old paper, leather, and polished wood. Few adventurers passed through. It was more of a forgotten outpost than a base of glory. But it still pulsed with a certain dignity.

Venlar was where he always seemed to be: behind the counter, his posture relaxed and a sly glint in his eye.

"Ah, the heroes of the dawn..." he said, pulling open a drawer and taking out an ancient, almost brittle parchment. "Let's get to the point."

He carefully unrolled it on the counter. The words engraved there were faded but still legible, as if time had decided to honor that mission.

— A request registered seventy-two years ago. A villager, a former alchemist, left behind a desire to obtain something few even believe exists: the Moonlight Stone.

He paused dramatically and then continued:

"These gems are not common. They appear only on specific nights—between the waning and new moons, when the sky seems to hold its breath. They appear in the Valley of the Winds, after the midnight mist has dissipated. It's as if they can only exist when the darkness retreats... but hasn't yet given way to light."

Grumak watched silently. Malias leaned in slightly, attentive.

—And why hasn't anyone been able to do it? — she asked.

"Because they can't be touched directly," Venlar replied. "They're unstable. Sometimes they crumble upon mere contact. Other times, they don't even appear. Some returned empty-handed. Others... didn't return at all."

“It sounds more like a legend than a quest,” Grumak murmured.

Venlar shrugged.

Balbito always believed in them. He said he saw one when he was young. And he still keeps an old map showing the way to the valley. No one else was interested. Or had the courage.

Silence hung for a moment. The kind of silence that carries both defiance and respect.

Malias crossed his arms.

— If this stone only appears when the darkness dissipates... perhaps we are not as far from it as we think.

Grumak nodded, looking beyond the guild windows, where the sky was beginning to cloud over.

— After what we've been through... a stone that exists only between shadow and silence seems appropriate.

Venlar smiled with a mixture of skepticism and admiration.

—If they bring this stone, history changes. Not just for me or Balbito. But for this entire place.

And with that, Grumak and Malias left the guild. Not as simple travelers. But as the first, in over seven decades, to agree to seek out a fragment of legend.

The Valley of the Winds awaited them.

And perhaps, at the end of the darkness, the stone revealed more than its light.

Shiro woke slowly, as if returning from a deep dive. The curved ceiling above him was made of living wood, branches intertwined to form an organic structure, covered in moss and dry leaves. The scent of damp earth filled the air.

He lay on a bed of woven leaves, covered with a rustic sheet made of plant fibers. Beside him sat a wooden tray: fresh bread, yellow cheese, and a bowl of steaming broth. But his stomach ignored all of it.

—Helster...? — he murmured.

He tried to get up, but dizziness forced him to lean against the living wall of the tree. The world still revolved around what had happened.

At the door, a massive shadow blocked the entrance. Shiro's eyes widened. For a moment, he thought it was a living rock... until the shadow breathed.

A black bear, bipedal, covered in scars, especially a long one that crisscrossed his face. His eyes were serene, but carried the weight of someone who had seen—and won—many wars. An ancient aura enveloped him, as if the world respected him simply for being there.

"Who... who are you?" Shiro asked, swallowing hard.

"Alvim Semedo," the bear replied, his voice deep, almost a contained thunder. "Your friend is fine. He's training."

—Training?! — Shiro's eyes widened.

"And you're going too," Alvim said, already turning his back. "Come."

Outside, a secret valley opened between towering mountains and ancient forests. Sunlight filtered through the trees like golden blades. The sound of a distant stream completed the scene, giving the place a sense of refuge... and a test.

In a clearing between rocks, Shiro saw Helster.

He struck a stone with a simple stick, his body covered in sweat. With each blow, he repeated like a mantra:

— Break... break... break...

The staff creaked, already splintered. Helster didn't stop. His arms trembled, but his eyes... his eyes shone with determination.

"What's he doing?" Shiro asked, still stunned.

"Learning persistence," Alvim replied. "Strength without purpose is just beautiful destruction."

Shiro swallowed. The weight of his own transformation still pressed against him. The memory of the shadow, the scream, the form he'd taken... it all still burned in his mind.

Alvim looked at him sideways, as if reading his thoughts.

— It was your first time, wasn't it?

Shiro nodded slowly.

— When I saw Helster... something exploded. I wasn't myself. It was just fury, instinct. And too much strength.

— And what did that bring you?

— Fear. Guilt. And a power I don't understand. That swallows me up inside.

Alvim crossed his arms.

— Strength without control is like a blade without a handle. It wounds the wielder... before it reaches the enemy.

Shiro lowered his eyes. What he felt was more than doubt. It was shame. Shame for having lost control, for having enjoyed, even for a moment, the feeling of being invincible.

“I want to change. Train me,” he said in a firm whisper.

Alvim let out a half smile, almost imperceptible.

— So let's begin.

He picked up a simple wooden staff. He took a deep breath. And then, a warm, golden energy began to flow from his body into the staff. In a single, clean, sharp blow, he split a rock in half. The staff remained intact.

"One hundred strikes with a single staff, without breaking it. When you succeed, I'll teach you Daishi—a channeling technique. But the secret is balance. Not force."

Helster paused for a moment and looked at Shiro, smiling tiredly.

- Good luck.

The following days were hard. Exhausting.

At dawn, training began. At dusk, Shiro collapsed.

Helster evolved. Steadily. Calmly.

Shiro, no.

Every fifty, sixty, sometimes seventy blows... the baton would break.

He always left.

The sound of the wood cracking was like a cruel reminder of his limitation.

“I’m failing,” he confessed to Alvim, one late afternoon when he couldn’t even stand up.

"You're fighting yourself," said the master. "And losing."

— I try. I breathe, I focus... but the energy escapes. Or explodes. Or breaks the staff. It's like... there's something inside me sabotaging everything.

Alvim walked over and placed a heavy but strangely comfortable paw on the young man's shoulder.

— You're trying to contain the beast. But containing isn't the same as understanding. Meditate. Don't force. Lead.

At the same time, Shiro tried.

He closed his eyes.

He breathed.

He felt the staff in his hands, as if it were part of his own body. An extension, not a weapon. And then... something changed. The energy came. Timid. Like an ember. But constant.

Helster, in the distance, noticed.

— You can do it, Shiro. You're going.

Shiro opened his eyes and for the first time in days... he felt light.

Helster was the first to reach one hundred blows.

Alvim watched him, approving with a simple nod.

— Come. Now, another kind of training begins.

Shiro watched his friend disappear into the forest with Alvim. A lump formed in his throat. It wasn't envy. It was heaviness. As if he'd been left behind... again.

Later that night, sitting by a silently crackling fire, Shiro broke the silence.

— What happened... back in the forest?

Helster scratched the back of his neck.

—Nothing much... Alvim blindfolded me and told me to sit in silence. Meditate.

— And?

—It seemed silly. But it wasn't. The forest has... a presence. I felt something there. As if everything was watching. Or waiting.

Shiro lay still. The wind rustled the leaves. The campfire cast shadows on the trees. The beast inside him remained there, dormant but hungry.

“I wish I was ready,” he confessed finally. “But I’m not. The transformation… that… it still haunts me.”

"Then go slowly," Helster said with a half-smile. "When the forest thinks you're ready... it will call you."

Shiro chuckled.

— It sounds like the talk of a wise old man.

“Maybe I’m turning into one,” Helster replied, looking up at the sky.

The conversation ceased. But the silence wasn't heavy. It was... comfortable.

That night, Shiro dreamed of his childhood bedroom. Broken toys on the floor. His father screaming. His mother's absence filling the world like a void.

And then she appeared. Wrapped in soft light.

—Hiro... take care of what you have. Things that come with love... need care.

He woke up with tears in his eyes.

And with something new burning in my chest.

A purpose.

His gifts were not a curse.

And on that new day, as he raised his staff again...

...he was no longer the same boy from the dream.

He was a warrior in the making.

And he was ready to break more than rocks.

He was ready to break himself... and rebuild himself.

Shiro awoke to the high sunlight filtering through the opening in the large tree where he slept. His wide eyes and racing heart betrayed the intensity of the dream he had just had. He could still feel the warmth of his mother's words on his skin, as if she had just whispered them in his ear. He wiped his face and took a deep breath. There was something different inside him. A clarity he hadn't felt in a long time.

That morning, he returned to training with renewed energy. He held the staff respectfully, as if wielding an extension of his own body. He channeled his energy serenely, guided by the memory of his mother. With each blow, he felt the staff respond better, firmer, more resilient. As if it were molding to his will.

Before lunch, Shiro struck his hundredth blow. The staff remained intact. The rock before him, though not broken, bore deep marks. Shiro dropped the staff, gasping. Tears streamed silently down his face. This wasn't just a physical achievement. He had conquered something within himself.

Alvim approached with a slight smile.

"You did it, huh?" he said, giving the boy two firm pats on the cheek. "Good job. Let's go have lunch. You'll need your energy for the next step."

During the meal, Shiro and Helster shared a simple but incredibly tasty feast. Sitting in the shade of a large tree, they ate bread, meat, and vegetables. Shiro felt light. Helster, for his part, seemed almost radiant to no longer have to meditate alone in the forest.

"Finally, Shiro!" Helster said, his mouth full. "I thought you'd never finish. If I sat in the woods meditating one more day, my ass would turn into a root!"

Shiro laughed, almost choking.

— Didn't you do anything else besides meditate?

—Nothing! Alvim blindfolded me and said, "Feel the energy of the forest." And all I felt was hunger and ants crawling up my leg.

They both laughed. For the first time in days, the mood was light. When Alvim appeared, they both sat up straighter, attentive.

"You've proven your determination. Now it's time to learn the move you've been waiting for."

Shiro and Helster's eyes lit up. They followed Alvim to the training grounds. The place seemed different. More solemn.

"Take a stick each." Alvim pointed to the intact rock in the center of the field. "I want you to repeat the process, but this time, push your energy to the limit. Control it, channel it, and release it all at the right moment."

Concentrating, they closed their eyes. Energy flowed. Hands clenched tightly. They opened their eyes and struck together.

The sound of the impact echoed. But nothing happened.

The sticks broke. The rock remained intact.

— What?! — Helster exclaimed.

"We did everything right!" Shiro protested.

Alvim crossed his arms, with an enigmatic smile.

"You've followed the basics. But the strike you saw is Daishi's pinnacle. It's not just power. It's absolute control."

And there was no letup. All afternoon, the two trained under intense guidance. Alvim brooked no distractions. He corrected, reprimanded, and demanded more with each mistake.

When the sun disappeared, he finally released them.

— Rest. Tomorrow, the real training begins.

That night, sitting around the campfire, Shiro and Helster laughed at their hardship.

"I thought breaking the rock would be a piece of cake..." Helster grumbled.

— For a super-powerful ancient bear, perhaps. For us... twig against mountain.

They laughed together. Despite their tiredness, they were ready to continue.

— Tomorrow, Shiro, I'm going to break that rock.

— Maybe we'll break it together. I bet Alvim will be impressed.

And with that thought, the two looked up at the starry sky. The challenge was great, but the will to overcome it was even greater.