The void did not forgive mistakes.

  Caelis learned that within minutes.

  He stood suspended above an endless black expanse, feet barely touching a thin layer of condensed force that the Guardian had shaped for him. There was no horizon, no sky—only pressure and silence.

  The First Ring hovered around his right forearm, glowing faint blue, rotating slowly like a patient predator.

  “Channel,” the Guardian said calmly, standing several meters away. “Do not release yet.”

  Caelis inhaled.

  Energy answered.

  It surged up from deep within him, flooding his core and racing through his veins. His muscles tightened instantly, swelling as power pressed outward, threatening to escape uncontrolled. The air around him trembled, rippling as a blue aura flickered into existence.

  Pain followed.

  Sharp. Immediate.

  Caelis clenched his teeth and raised his right arm, palm open.

  The ring reacted.

  Blue light spiraled inward, tightening, compressing the flow instead of letting it explode outward. The sensation was unnatural—like forcing a storm through a needle.

  His veins bulged violently along his arm and shoulder, glowing faintly beneath his skin.

  “Hold it,” the Guardian said.

  Caelis growled, sweat pouring down his face as the energy condensed into a small sphere hovering just above his palm. It vibrated wildly, unstable, screaming to be released.

  His vision blurred.

  His knees shook.

  The aura around him surged chaotically.

  Then—

  The sphere detonated.

  The explosion hurled Caelis backward like a discarded weapon. He slammed into the void floor hard enough to crack it open, skidding across the surface before coming to a stop in a heap.

  Pain exploded through his body.

  The ring dimmed instantly, stabilizing him just enough to keep his bones from shattering.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Caelis coughed, blood splattering against the dark surface.

  “…Again,” he rasped.

  The Guardian did not move.

  “Your mistake,” he said evenly, “is volume.”

  Caelis forced himself up, trembling. “It’s power.”

  “No,” the Guardian replied. “It’s panic.”

  He stepped closer, eyes fixed on the ring.

  “You’re flooding your body and hoping the ring will sort it out. That is how you die.”

  Caelis wiped blood from his mouth. “Then how do I do it?”

  The Guardian raised two fingers.

  “Compression,” he said. “Intent. Then release.”

  He gestured.

  The void shifted.

  Targets appeared—dense spheres of reinforced energy floating at varying distances. Each one pulsed faintly, designed to withstand massive force.

  “Again,” the Guardian said.

  Caelis nodded.

  He steadied his breathing.

  This time, he didn’t rush.

  He drew the energy slower, deliberately, feeling it coil inside him like a restrained beast. His muscles tensed, veins rising, but he did not let the aura explode outward.

  The ring responded differently.

  Instead of flaring, it tightened.

  Blue light wrapped around his forearm like a coiled current, stabilizing the flow, forcing the energy inward instead of outward.

  The pressure was unbearable.

  Caelis screamed—not in rage, but strain—as he compressed the power into a dense core above his palm. The sphere was smaller than before.

  But heavier.

  The air screamed around it.

  “Now,” the Guardian said.

  Caelis thrust his arm forward.

  The energy sphere launched.

  Not as a beam.

  Not as a wave.

  As a shot.

  It crossed the void in an instant and slammed into the nearest target, detonating with focused violence. The reinforced sphere shattered completely, fragments dissolving into nothingness.

  Caelis staggered.

  But he stayed standing.

  His eyes widened.

  “…I did it.”

  The Guardian nodded once. “Again.”

  The next hours were hell.

  Caelis fired blast after blast—some unstable, some controlled. Each failure punished him brutally. Explosions tore into his body. Recoil shattered the void floor beneath him. His muscles screamed as veins threatened to burst under repeated compression.

  The ring burned hotter with every attempt, forcing stability while draining him mercilessly.

  By the tenth blast, his arms shook uncontrollably.

  By the twentieth, he collapsed.

  By the thirtieth—

  “Get up,” the Guardian said.

  Caelis forced himself upright, aura flickering weakly.

  “This isn’t about range,” the Guardian continued. “It’s about authority. Your power must obey you. Not the other way around.”

  Caelis clenched his fists.

  Blue aura surged again, thinner now but sharper.

  He raised both hands this time, drawing energy into his core and splitting it—one flow per palm. The ring spun faster, compensating, stabilizing both channels.

  Pain tore through his shoulders.

  Blood trickled from his nose.

  He released.

  Two blasts fired simultaneously, streaking through the void and obliterating their targets in synchronized explosions.

  Caelis dropped to one knee, gasping.

  But he was smiling.

  The Guardian studied him carefully.

  “You’re beginning to understand,” he said. “This is how you kill something stronger than you.”

  Caelis looked down at the ring.

  It hummed softly, steady, controlled.

  “This power…” Caelis said between breaths. “It feels like it wants to be more.”

  The Guardian’s gaze sharpened.

  “It will,” he said. “When you stop fearing what happens if you lose control.”

  The void darkened slightly.

  Pressure increased.

  “Tomorrow,” the Guardian continued, “we combine this with movement.”

  Caelis swallowed.

  “Speed?”

  “And combat,” the Guardian replied.

  He turned away.

  “This arc will not give you comfort,” he said. “Only capability.”

  Caelis forced himself to stand fully, fists clenched, aura stabilizing around him.

  “Good,” he said.

  The ring rotated once—slow, deliberate.

  Somewhere deep within Caelis, something shifted.

  Not yet a second ring.

  But the path toward it had opened.

  Energy without movement is incomplete.

  And movement under pressure is where real warriors are forged.