The first week nearly killed them.
Not through battles.
Through training.
Deep discovered this reality first.
“I can’t feel my arms.”
Disar walked past him calmly.
“That means they still exist.”
“That’s not comforting.”
Morning training began before sunrise every single day.
No excuses.
No delays.
No sympathy.
The mountain village woke earlier than the sun itself.
Cold fog drifted between rooftops while lanterns still glowed faintly in the darkness, and every morning the same sound echoed through the cliffs:
CLACK.
CLANG.
THOK.
Wooden swords.
Footsteps.
People failing repeatedly.
Dhruv quickly learned something important about Disar.
The old swordsman never shouted.
Never screamed.
Never gave dramatic speeches.
Which somehow made his criticism hurt more.
“Again.”
That became the most terrifying word in the mountains.
The training grounds overlooked the eastern valleys of East Cloud.
Huge stone platforms stretched near the cliffside while wooden dummies, hanging targets, climbing poles, and old weapon racks filled the area.
Generations of hunters trained here.
The ground itself carried scars from years of combat.
Dhruv stood breathing heavily near the center platform while holding Veyra in both hands.
Sweat rolled down his neck despite the cold morning air.
Across from him stood Disar.
Calm as ever.
“Again.”
Dhruv rushed forward.
This time his footing stayed lower.
Better balance.
He swung Veyra diagonally toward Disar’s shoulder.
CLANG.
Blocked.
Disar immediately stepped inside his range.
Dhruv reacted faster this time.
Good.
He pivoted sideways and tried striking again from the left.
Disar’s wooden blade redirected Veyra effortlessly.
Wooden blade.
Too effortlessly.
Then came the counterattack.
THOK.
Dhruv stumbled backward clutching his ribs.
“…You enjoy this too much.” disar said.
“No.”
Disar pointed toward Dhruv’s feet.
“You’re thinking about your hands too much.”
Dhruv blinked once.
“What?”
“A sword starts from the feet.”
“Everything else follows.”
The old swordsman lightly tapped the stone floor with his wooden blade.
“Movement first.”
“Power second.”
Kael trained nearby in silence.
Unlike Dhruv, his strikes looked controlled already.
Sharp.
Precise.
But even Kael still lost constantly.
Disar defeated both of them without effort every morning.
It stopped feeling embarrassing after the third day.
Mostly because survival became the bigger concern.
Deepika’s training happened farther uphill.
A woman named Clara arrived three days after the Red Threads entered the village.
She came during heavy rain.
Messenger birds followed her across the mountain skies while a long dark blue coat moved behind her in the wind.
Tall.
Sharp-eyed.
Silver hair tied loosely behind her back.
“terrifyingly elegant.”
Clara ignored him immediately.
She was an old navigation partner of Disar and one of the best route readers in East Cloud.
Not just sea routes.
Hunter routes.
Escape paths.
Wind patterns.
Government patrol movement.
Forest currents.
Mountain shortcuts.
Things ordinary navigators never learned.
Deepika respected her almost instantly.
Which shocked everybody.
Including Deepika.
“You’re too stiff,” Clara told her during knife practice.
Deepika blocked another strike sharply.
“I move fine.”
“You move carefully.”
“Not freely.”
CLANG.
Their blades collided again.
Clara suddenly twisted sideways and disarmed Deepika in one smooth movement.
One knife flew across the platform.
Deepika stared.
Annoyed.
Clara calmly handed the weapon back.
“You fight like somebody trying not to lose people.”
The words hit too accurately.
Deepika looked away slightly.
Clara noticed.
But didn’t push further.
Robin spent most mornings inside the village archives.
At first Dhruv thought she was avoiding combat training.
Then he accidentally saw her working.
Books floated around her.
Not metaphorically.
Actually floated.
Open pages drifted through the air while Robin calmly copied symbols between texts at impossible speed.
Dozens of pages turned simultaneously around her.
Maps unfolded midair beside old records while notes organized themselves across the wooden floor.
Controlled.
Elegant.
Beautiful in a slightly terrifying way.
Dhruv stood frozen near the doorway watching.
Robin didn’t notice him immediately.
Her eyes moved rapidly across ancient text while loose pages circled slowly around her body like white birds.
Then suddenly:
“…You’ve been standing there for four minutes.”
Dhruv jumped slightly.
“You knew?”
Robin finally looked up from the books.
“I can hear your shoes.”
Dhruv walked inside slowly.
Sunlight filtered through archive windows onto piles of ancient records scattered around her workspace.
“You’re getting way better with your power.”
Robin glanced toward the floating pages calmly.
“I’ve practiced for years.”
One paper drifted toward Dhruv automatically.
Old hunter symbols covered it.
“What’s this?”
Robin leaned back slightly.
“Ancient hunter language.”
“You can read this?”
“Some of it.”
Dhruv stared at the symbols again.
“Seriously… what can’t you do?”
Robin thought quietly for a second.
“…Social interaction.”
Dhruv laughed immediately.
Robin looked mildly offended.
“That was honest.”
“You walked into that one yourself, Nico.”
Robin paused briefly while organizing more pages through the air.
Small pause.
Tiny reaction.
Then she continued working.
But Dhruv noticed something.
She never corrected him anymore about being called nico.
Deep’s training became a disaster almost instantly.
Because Disar refused to treat him differently just because he wasn’t a swordsman.
That sentence ruined Deep’s peace permanently.
Now every morning involved:
– sprinting uphill carrying equipment
– climbing cliff walls
– dodging wooden traps
– learning survival mechanics
Deep complained through all of it.
Constantly.
“I’m a scientist.”
“Then invent stronger legs,” Disar replied calmly.
Deep nearly cried.
Still… he improved.
Slowly.
His gadgets became sharper too.
Cleaner designs.
Faster reactions.
More reliable mechanics.
One afternoon he proudly showed Dhruv a small metal disc.
“What does it do?”
Deep grinned proudly.
“Explodes.”
“…That explains nothing.”
“It explodes differently.”
“THAT STILL EXPLAINS NOTHING.”
Robin quietly moved two steps farther away from the device.
Smart decision.
Days blended together after that.
Morning fog.
Training.
Mountain wind.
Late-night conversations.
The Red Threads slowly changed.
Not dramatically.
Naturally.
Dhruv’s movements became quieter.
Deepika stopped gripping her knives constantly.
Robin started speaking more during meals.
Deep somehow became slightly less reckless.
Slightly.
Very slightly.
Even Kael occasionally trained beside them now.
Not friendly.
But no longer openly hostile either.
One evening after training, Dhruv sat alone near the cliffside breathing heavily while sunset painted East Cloud gold beneath the mountains.
His arms ached.
His legs burned.
Disar approached quietly carrying two cups of tea.
He handed one toward Dhruv.
“You improved.”
Dhruv accepted the tea carefully.
“That sounded painful for you to admit.”
“It was.”
Dhruv smiled faintly.
The sunset reflected softly across Veyra resting beside him against the rocks.
After several quiet moments, Disar finally spoke again.
“Harun stayed here for almost two years.”
Dhruv looked toward him immediately.
“Seriously?”
Disar nodded once.
“He trained obsessively after finding clues about the Stones.”
The mountain wind carried distant bell sounds across the cliffs.
Disar’s expression grew quieter now.
“Back then… he believed becoming stronger would protect everybody around him.”
Dhruv stared silently ahead.
Because that sounded familiar.
Too familiar.
Disar glanced sideways slightly.
“You inherited more than his eyes.”
Below them, lanterns slowly began glowing throughout the hidden village once more.
Warm lights beneath cold mountains.
For the first time in years…
Dhruv felt like he wasn’t wandering blindly anymore.
He was growing.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Properly.
And somewhere beyond East Cloud… the road toward the Seven Stones still waited.
END OF CHAPTER 20