Chapter 8 — The Awakening of the Burden

Morning was breaking over the valley, tinting the sky a subtle gold. Inside the living cabin, Shiro was already standing, his body still aching from the night before, but his gaze steady. Beside him, Helster adjusted his wristband, stretching with a yawn.

Alvim watched them silently for a while, as if scanning the soul of a warrior. Then, with a subtle smile, he announced:

—Today you will not fight each other. What you must face... is unknown. And inevitable.

Shiro and Helster exchanged a tense look. The bear then pulled out two dark gray fabric blindfolds, sturdy and worn with age.

— Put them on. I'll lead you.

Shiro hesitated. Helster, as always, was the first to laugh and obey.

"I hope it's not a hole," he grumbled, tying the bandage over his eyes.

“Only if you don’t know how to use your feet,” Alvim replied, beginning to guide them along the trail.

The forest was alive with the sounds of dawn, but to the two blindfolded men, every root seemed a trap, every branch an obstacle. Uncertain footsteps. Alert hearts.

After long minutes of silence, Alvim stopped.

— Shiro, this is your point.

The boy removed his blindfold, blinking at the dim light of the cave entrance. The breeze coming from it was cold, heavy with moisture and something else... something ancient.

“Your opponent is inside,” Alvim said, turning around without waiting for an answer.

Shiro took a deep breath. The silence of the forest seemed to hold the air, as if the world, too, was waiting for what would come next.

The cave swallowed him.

The floor was damp, the walls alive with moss and droplets that dripped in almost rhythmic intervals. As I advanced, the darkness gave way to a thin mist—and then a natural room, wide and illuminated by a diffuse light with no apparent source.

And there, among the shadows, he appeared.

The black feline.

It was him. But it wasn't.

He was Shiro's living shadow: taller, firmer, eyes like embers, every movement reflecting everything he was... and everything he feared becoming.

- No...

Shiro raised the staff, but felt something different. The wood had transformed into a sword of pulsing light—as if the world had given him a tool, but not a manual.

Without warning, the feline lunged. A swift strike. Shiro blocked, his arms vibrating from the impact. After that, the storm came. Each strike was precise. Relentless. As if the opponent knew each step before it was even taken.

Shiro tried to counterattack. But everything was foreseen. Read. Mirrored.

“He fights like... like he's me...”

The battle dragged on. Time seemed to slip away. Pain pooled in his muscles. Sweat blurred his vision. Until, without explanation, the feline disappeared.

Shiro gasped, uncomprehending. In the center of the chamber, a table appeared, covered with food: warm bread, meat, fresh fruit. Glowing marks lit up on the wall, forming a circle with 24 burning points.

“A break...?” he thought, almost doubting.

But he sat. He ate. He drank. And when the last flame died out, he knew.

Rest was part of the ordeal.

The feline reappeared—ferocious, whole, more intense.

"NO!" Shiro shouted, drawing his sword again.

The fight started again, and this time, he couldn't take it.

The staff fell. The body gave way. Shiro collapsed to his knees, defeated more by doubt than strength.

The darkness around dissipated.

And he was back at the cave entrance.

Alvim returned with Helster. Both exhausted, blindfolded, and dragging their feet. Seeing Shiro, Alvim nodded.

— Put on your blindfolds. Let's go back.

No words were spoken. The forest swallowed them once more.

Minutes later, Alvim stopped them at the old rock field. The batons were handed over. The orders were simple.

— Three attempts. Show if what you experienced was of any use.

One by one, the blows came.

And one by one, the sticks broke.

Alvim just shook his head.

— Not yet. But they're closer.

And without ceremony, he lifted them by the arms like sacks of grain, carrying them back to the hut.

That night, the wind blew through the cracks. Shiro and Helster lay, their eyes open, sleepless. The pain in their muscles was bearable. The weight on their souls was not.

"Hey, Hel… what did you see?" Shiro murmured.

Helster turned slowly, his voice tired.

— A pig. But not just any pig. One just like me. Only... dark. Intense. He knew my every move.

“Same with me,” Shiro said. “It was a feline. Myself… but with shadowy eyes. Swift, brutal. As if it had already defeated me before it began.”

"How do we beat someone who already knows everything about us?" Helster asked, his voice thick with frustration.

Shiro was silent for a while.

— Maybe... we don't have to beat them. Maybe we have to beat ourselves.

Helster sighed.

— It makes sense. In a confusing way, but it does. All I know is that, for now, I'm getting my ass kicked... in style.

They laughed. A tired but sincere laugh.

— Well, said Shiro, looking at the ceiling, — at least we're getting beaten together.

It had been days since they had arrived at Alvim's sacred clearing.

The scars on Shiro's body no longer came solely from fights—but from silences, meditations, and small victories that seemed insignificant compared to his own fury. The staff in his hands no longer felt foreign. But it also didn't feel like his own.

Helster, on the other hand, flourished as someone who had already accepted the chaos within himself. Shiro watched him, sometimes silently—somewhere between admiration and envy.

The next morning, they were both in front of the cave again.

The sky was still pale, the dew fresh in the air.

Alvim was waiting for them, imposing and serene, as always. Helster was still blindfolded.

“You can take off the blindfold, Shiro,” he said, arms crossed.

Shiro obeyed, and the darkness of the cave seemed thicker than ever.

Alvim watched for a few seconds, until he said, in a cutting tone:

— Good luck, kid. Maybe today... you'll understand what your father never had the courage to face.

The words hit Shiro like a punch to the stomach.

It froze.

"Don't talk about him as if you know him!" he exploded, his fists clenched, his eyes flashing. "He raised me alone! He did everything for me! He gave me everything he had!"

Alvim raised an eyebrow, calm.

—And yet, he didn't teach you to control even your own shadow. A great legacy.

Shiro bit his tongue. His chest rose and fell. Anger beat like a drum inside his skull.

— Who do you think you are... — He murmured.

"Someone who was once like you," Alvim replied, already turning to lead Helster into the forest. "And who survived the price."

Shiro stood there. Still.

The words echoing.

Weighing more than any stick.

"Who does he think he is...?" Shiro growled, entering the cave. "Talking about my father as if he knows something..."

The smoke closed in behind him.

And the memories came back.

Muffled screams. Mother's absence. Father's back moving away. The warmth of an unspoken promise.

“I love you, son... Everything I do, I do for you.”

Shiro gritted his teeth. His eyes burned. The staff trembled in his hand.

The room revealed itself through the fog. And there he was.

The creature was waiting for him.

A black feline. Corrupted. Ferocious.

A shadowy copy of himself.

His eyes glowed a sickly amber. His claws were bathed in vivid darkness. His stance was instinctive. Predatory. Calculated.

Shiro took a deep breath.

This time, he didn't hesitate.

The fight broke out without warning.

The creature knew her every move, every pattern, every weakness. It was like fighting her reflection... only faster. More savage. More merciless.

A cross blow caught his shoulder. Another, his rib. He staggered.

The creature didn't smile. It didn't provoke. It just attacked.

And that was worse.

— No... — Shiro gasped. — I won't lose... not to myself!

And then, instinct roared.

It exploded in his flesh like a living lava rock.

His eyes glowed an incandescent orange. Claws replaced his weapon. His body grew. His muscles deformed. His hair stood on end. His jaw lengthened. His roar filled the chamber with ancient echoes.

He became... the other side of himself.

The side that no longer needed logic.

Just fury.

Shiro became a whirlwind of destruction. He used the ground, the walls, his own screams as weapons. He leaped, spun, bit. His claws slashed at the black feline, opening fissures of burning light beneath the darkness.

The creature resisted. But the tide had turned.

Until, in a final leap, Shiro sank both claws into the copy's chest. The creature screamed—a voiceless sound—and dissolved into a dark mist, evaporating into thin air.

The silence was absolute.

Shiro stood there, panting.

The body still vibrated. The transformation still pulsed in his flesh.

But there was no more enemy.

Far away, in the clearing, Alvim kept his eyes closed, next to Helster.

"He's almost ready..." he murmured. "But he doesn't know it yet."

Shiro took a step.

Then another.

The transformation did not come undone immediately.

He was still in his bestial, feline form, his eyes glowing, his muscles tense, and his teeth bared.

He walked slowly through the cave, his feet scratching the stone with his claws.

His heart was still pounding in his chest. And the anger... it hadn't gone away.

Quite the opposite.

She grew up.

Like a spinning blade.

"Who does that bear think he is...?" he growled, his voice still distorted. "Talking about my father like that..."

One more step. The smoke at the entrance is now visible.

— He doesn't know anything...

His eyes gleamed with suppressed fury. His body was still in transition, his muscles trembling with the effort of maintaining control.

— If you think you're so wise... prove it with a beating.

And then he walked through the fog of the cave...

...still transformed.

The fog in the cave still dissipated behind him, as if reluctant to let him go.

But Shiro didn't hesitate. He came walking. Wildly. Furiously.

Alvim's words still echoed inside his mind like knives twisting in the flesh of memory:

— “Your father is a weakling.”

He knew. He knew it was provocation. That Alvim wanted to mess with him.

But it hurt, And from the pain... anger was born.

In the field ahead, Alvim was already waiting.

Beside him, Helster lay unconscious on the lawn, still blindfolded, breathing heavily. He was probably finishing his own spiritual test. His body was still trembling slightly, as if he were emerging from a turbulent dream.

Shiro paused for a moment at the edge of the clearing, his eyes burning, his teeth gritted. Fury still simmered beneath his skin.

Alvim turned to him, his voice calm but sharp as a sheathed blade.

"So that's it?" he said. "Are you going to let one comment turn you into this?"

Shiro didn't respond, he roared.

And the roar echoed like thunder.

He advanced.

Shiro's first strike—a ferocious kick driven by pure fury—landed like a bolt of lightning. The earth exploded beneath the impact, opening a crater where Alvim had stood seconds before.

But the bear was no longer there.

His movements were smooth, swift for his size. Like water flowing around stone. Like wind escaping through cracks.

— Fast... but out of control — Alvim murmured.

Shiro spun with the speed of a desperate beast. His claws sliced through the air and struck surrounding trees, which were uprooted or split in half by the sheer pressure.

Alvim stomped his paw on the ground.

Energy condensed around him—the Daishi.

It formed an invisible, solid wall between itself and Shiro's next attack. The impact generated a shockwave that tore up leaves, kicked up dust, and cracked the earth.

— If you want to prove something... then prove you can reach me.

Shiro screamed and leaped with all his might. His claws were tinged red, flaming with pure, raw essence. Several strikes in succession, savage, visceral—each with enough force to shatter a stone wall.

But then… Alvim changed.

His fur darkened, becoming like living obsidian. The aura around him expanded, weighing down like a mountain upon the world. From his back, two golden markings emerged in the shape of bear paws, flaming and ethereal—like ancient spirits watching in silence.

The master's eyes glowed a cold blue. The world around them seemed to slow down.

"Do you want to test your strength, Shiro...?" he said, his tone ancient now. "Then I'll show you what strength is... in balance."

Shiro roared and came with everything.

The impact between the two was a collapse of forces.

The ground shook. The air vibrated. The grass caught fire. Rocks exploded.

Paw versus claw. Focus versus fury.

And even at the height of his frenzy, Shiro couldn't touch Alvim. The bear redirected each attack with minimal movement. He flicked his wrist. He doubled the weight of his charge against his own attacker.

Shiro was out of breath.

I lost clarity.

Anger made his blows stronger, but less accurate. More powerful, but blunter.

And then, at the exact moment, Alvim struck a simple blow.

He just placed his palm on Shiro's chest.

The energy coursed through his body like an icy tide. Silent. Deep.

Shiro's eyes widened.

The fury stalled. The heat broke. The legs gave out.

He fell to his knees. His claws pressed against the ground. His chest heaved.

"You are more than your rage, Shiro," Alvim said, kneeling before him. "Your father would be afraid to see what you are becoming. Not out of weakness ... but because you are allowing yourself to be consumed by the worst in him."

Tears welled up in Shiro's flaming eyes.

The transformation receded, little by little.

— I... still want to be better.

— And that's why you will be — replied Alvim.

The field was now just dust and silence.

Helster woke up little by little, still blindfolded.

— Hunn ... what's that burning smell?

“Nothing much,” said Alvim dryly.

— What do you mean, nothing?! It looks like a meteor fell here... and why am I still blindfolded?!

Alvim, with the calm of someone who has seen wars, approached and covered Shiro's eyes with a blindfold as well.

— Today... you saw too much. Now it's time to walk without seeing. Feel without thinking.

He led the two of them through the forest with the same ritual silence that marked everything he did.

As they arrived at the living house, the aroma of roasted roots, smoked fish, and warm herbs enveloped the boys' senses. The fireplace was already blazing brightly. And on the low table, steaming bowls awaited them.

Alvim sat them down, removed the blindfolds and simply said:

— Today... you don't need to think.

Just eat.

And they obeyed.

Hungry, yes.

But most of all... with relief.