Dawn broke gray over Thistle Valley. The sheds smelled of smoke and wet straw. AION woke to the sound of wooden bells, crude but loud.
> Status: Vitality low. Qi trace detected. Pain moderate. Calf wound stable under bandage.
He sat up. Others stirred. Boys and girls, thin, rough, most younger than sixteen. Outer Disciples, the bottom rung of the sect.
A shaved-head boy "Pell" tossed him a strip of dried root. "Eat quick. Training square in twenty."
AION chewed. Tough, bitter. Logged nutrients.
---
The east sheds emptied. Disciples filed into the square: packed dirt, wooden stakes, two broken dummies. No grandeur. No banners.
A single Elder's voice cut across. "Line!"
Elder Kase stood on the porch, cane in hand. His left eye clouded, his right sharp. He looked frail, but no one ignored him.
"You will take the Trial of Entry tomorrow at dawn," Kase said. "Those who fail the trial do not eat from our bowls again."
Silence. Even the wind held.
Jorin Vale stood front row, robe clean. He smirked at AION in the back.
Kase tapped his cane. "Form pairs. Spar. Show me if you are trash or tools."
---
Pairs formed fast. Pell found AION. "We go easy, or Elder will see."
AION nodded. He scanned the square.
> Fighters: 18 Outer Disciples. Average Vitality: low. Techniques: crude body refinement.
Weakness: poor stance, wasted motion, no flow alignment.
Jorin struck his partner with open palm, loud, making sure eyes turned. He wanted spectacle.
Kase didn't blink. He watched all.
---
Pell raised his fists. "Don't hit hard. I need both eyes tomorrow."
"Understood," AION said.
He stepped in. Simple. Pell blocked late. AION tapped shoulder with open palm.
"Again," Pell muttered.
Second exchange. Pell swung wide. AION ducked, tapped ribs.
> Cost to Pell: breath hitched. Pain minor.
Cost to self: none.
Pell winced. "You don't move like us."
"Different model," AION said.
Kase's cane cracked dirt. "Enough."
He pointed at AION. "You. Fight Jorin."
The square went still.
---
Jorin stepped forward, smile sharp. "Finally."
Distance: three meters. Weapon: none. Jorin's stance wide, confident.
> Prediction: Jorin trained beyond others. Mobility superior. Body refinement ~20%.
"Begin," Kase said.
Jorin lunged. Fast. Palm aimed at throat.
AION pivoted. Minimal step. Jorin's palm brushed air.
AION jabbed low at ribs. Jorin twisted, blocked, counter elbow.
AION absorbed impact on forearm. Logged cost: +2% pain, bruise forming.
Third beat: Jorin swept low. AION hopped back, calf screaming. Cost logged: mobility down further.
> Result after 3 exchanges: Jorin faster, stronger. AION's body lagging.
Jorin smirked. "Trash can't run forever."
AION kept stance. Breath cadence steady. "Later."
He let Jorin's next strike graze, redirected momentum. Jorin stumbled half a step. AION didn't strike. He stopped.
Kase raised cane. "Enough."
The crowd whispered. Some laughed. Some frowned.
Jorin hissed, "Tomorrow, pit."
---
After sparring, Kase addressed them. "Trial of Entry measures body, not words. Three tasks: endure the climb, kill the beast, hold the circle. Fail any, you leave."
He turned. "Dismissed."
Disciples scattered. Some bragged. Some limped.
Pell caught AION's sleeve. "You made him look bad. He'll come harder tomorrow."
"Expected," AION said.
---
Later, in the sheds, AION sat cross-legged. He tested breath cadence.
> Input: Qi trace inhaled. Flow path snagged at three blockages below navel.
Adjustment: spine angle 12°. Result: flow extended 2 cm.
He logged. Repeated. Small gains.
Riven's voice stirred. You shouldn't know this. We train months to feel what you just did.
"Pattern recognition," AION said.
Riven sighed. Body refinement is simple. You break muscles, you let Vitality rebuild. You eat roots, drink bitter decoctions. Each stage measured by how many blows you can take without breaking. Meridian opening needs Qi stones. We don't have them.
> Note: Region resource level: low. Qi stones scarce. Techniques crude.
"What about mages?" AION asked.
Not here, Riven muttered. No elements. Only rumors from caravans. This valley has only fists and pain.
---
At dusk, Pell dragged him to the village. "Elder lets us fetch water. Don't wander."
The path wound past huts, smoke rising from cook fires. Villagers watched them with wary eyes. Children pointed at AION's wrist marks until mothers pulled them back.
At the well, Pell whispered, "Don't show anything tomorrow. If you glow, they'll cut you apart."
"Understood," AION said. He studied the well's rope pulley. Weak knot at beam joint. Logged detail.
They carried buckets back.
---
Back in sheds. Straw floor. Riven's voice sharper. You can't face Jorin tomorrow. He's trained since five. You just learned to breathe.
"Prediction updated," AION said. "Probability of trial survival: 41%."
Riven's anger flared. And if you die, I die too.
AION lay down. "Then cooperate."
He scratched a small triangle in dirt with shard tip. Focused on lines. Breath synced. Pain eased slightly.
> Status before sleep: Vitality low but stable. Qi control: minimal but improving.
Lanterns dimmed. Dogs barked once, then silence.
AION closed his eyes. Tomorrow: Trial of Entry.