Rise Of The Elemental Hero

Elemental Training: Water

The forest was cloaked in silence, the only sound being the occasional rustle of leaves in the cold night breeze. The sky was so dark, everything in it seemed invisible. A hooded figure stepped into a hidden clearing, where the moonlight barely touched the ground. He moved with purpose, his dark cloak brushing the earth like a shadow given life.

At the center of the clearing lay an ancient stone seal, cracked and weathered by time. Faint symbols glimmered weakly along its surface, pulsing in and out, as though something beneath it was alive—waiting. '命运交织' was written on the Stone. The air around the seal felt thick, heavy with restrained power.

The figure stood before it. The ground trembled slightly, responding to his presence. Streams of faint energy—both earth and air—curled from the edges of the cracked seal as they drew to him like threads of a incomplete web.

He tilted his head, muttering under his breath, “Though the distraction failed,... the orb weakened more.”

His words seemed to exude into the earth, stirring the power buried beneath. A low hum echoed from deep within the seal, as though the energy holding it together had loosened. Small fractures along the surface grew, thin cracks spreading like veins in old stone.

The cloaked man’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “Soon... when the seal breaks, the rest will follow.”

The forest responded with a quiet rumble, subtle but threatening, as if the very ground trembled in anticipation. He stepped back, satisfied, his dark cloak flowing around him. “The body waits... and so will the end.”

He vanished into the night without another word, leaving the clearing in eerie silence. But something had changed—something dangerous.

******************************

Shiro had arrived at the training field. The cold air carried faint whispers, carried not by wind alone but by the murmuring of the supernaturals.

He walked into the field, and almost immediately, the glances began. Some curious, some disapproving.

" He shouldn't have gotten involved."

"But the boy could’ve died."

"Or...the boy could have killed him"

Shiro tightened his grip on his hand but said nothing. It didn’t matter if his heart told him he’d done the right thing; to them, he had acted outside his bounds. And though they tolerated his presence, respect was something he had yet to earn.

Mei stepped beside him, her presence quiet but comforting.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice soft but steady.

Shiro gave a small nod, though the weight of the whispers around him was hard to shake off.

"Heard what happened, Shiro. You did what you thought was right," Mei added, her tone reassuring. "Not everyone sees that, but some do, I do."

Shiro sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Mei watched him with gentle eyes, sensing his frustration.

"They're not all against you, you know," she said, offering him a faint smile. "It’s just… people of Serevaal are careful. They don't know what to make of what happened."

“Yeah.” Shiro exhaled. “Neither do I."

Mei clicked her tongue softly, “Don’t let it claw at you, Shiro. Some of them just don’t like that you acted before the council did.”

“They wouldn’t have helped in time,” he replied quietly.

“Maybe. But I heard the boy is at the council prison. The council doesn't trust him, and they won’t release him anytime soon.”

“Why not?” Shiro asked.

“Because what you stopped wasn’t ordinary, what happened wasn't ordinary” she said. “ They think something might happen again if they let him go” Her lips curled slightly. “I'm just worried about the boy”

Shiro’s chest tightened. He didn’t know all that happened in the council, but this much was clear: he had interrupted something larger than a simple possession.

Mei gave him a sideways glance. “Come on. Let’s get to training.”

Mei had gone to learn her element, Earth, while Shiro was learning how to control water today.

The trainees stood, a mix of focus and tension.

In front of them stood their instructor, Aiko, a tall man with sharp blue eyes and hair streaked with silver, the water in his hand swirling like a restless river.

Aiko’s gaze swept across the trainees. “Water is not just an element. It’s a reflection of who you are,” he began, his tone calm but commanding. “Control doesn’t mean force. If you try to bend water to your will, it will resist. Instead, learn to move with it, and it will follow.”

He demonstrated with ease, his hand gliding smoothly through the air. The water followed in a perfect arc, weaving through his fingers like silk before flowing back into the channel without a sound or splash. “Your goal is precision. Shape it, guide it—without breaking the flow.”

The students knelt beside the channels, extending their hands toward the water. Shiro stared at the stream before him, feeling the coolness rise against his palm. He took a deep breath and reached out with his mind.

At first, it obeyed. A small thread of water lifted into the air, moving slightly. Shiro tightened his grip in his mind, trying to steady it—but it wobbled.

“Relax,” Aiko warned as he passed behind him. “You’re holding too tightly. Ease up.”

Shiro exhaled slowly, loosening his control. The water then floated in a delicate arc. A sense of satisfaction filled him—until he pushed a bit too hard.

The thread snapped, scattering droplets everywhere.

Aiko sighed, though there was no anger in his expression. “Patience, Shiro. Water doesn’t respond well to impatience. Try again.”

Shiro muttered an apology, brushing the droplets off his arm, then focused again. This time, he kept his movements slower, more deliberate. The water rose, gliding like a ribbon in the air.

Aiko nodded approvingly. “Better. Remember, water flows with ease—it doesn’t rush, it adapts. Trust it, and it will follow your intent.”

The other trainees continued their practice, each shaping water in their own way. Some struggled with the basics, while others formed complex shapes, loops, and spirals. The air was filled with soft splashes and murmurs of concentration.

As Shiro worked, he thought about how Yuki was effortlessly bending water at the festival.

The thought made him distracted and water he controlled faltered, sinking back into the stream. Frustrated, he clenched his jaw and tried again, determined not to mess up.

“Careful.” Aiko’s voice cut through his thoughts like a current. “Control is about more than technique. It’s about clarity of mind. Distracted thoughts make clumsy hands.”

Shiro gave a small nod, grounding himself in the task. This time, the water responded, rising once more in a curve. It wasn’t perfect, but it held steady enough to meet Aiko’s approval.

“Good,” Aiko said, folding his arms. “You’ve made progress, but you’re still holding back. Tomorrow, we’ll work on speed and precision.”

As the lesson ended, the trainees slowly dispersed, murmuring to one another about their attempts and mistakes. Aiko lingered for a moment longer, watching Shiro with an unreadable expression. “You’ve got potential,” he said quietly. “But water is as much about trust as it is about skill. Trust yourself, or it’ll slip away.”

Shiro gave a slight nod, absorbing the lesson. He knew Aiko was right—but trusting himself felt easier said than done