The seven Elite constructs surrounded me in a perfect circle.
Each stood motionless, wooden bodies marked with the same strange symbols I'd seen throughout the Veilroot.
"Begin when ready," Jirou announced from outside the combat ring.
I centered myself, breathing deeply.
Inhale for eight. Hold for four. Exhale for eight. Hold for four.
The familiar pattern steadied my mind, focusing my awareness on the present moment.
I studied my opponents carefully.
The Elites were differentiated by subtle design variations—one heavier in build, another more lithe.
Some held weapons: a staff, short blades, weighted chains.
Others stood empty-handed, their wooden forms designed for unarmed combat.
I needed a strategy.
Taking on all seven simultaneously would be suicide.
I needed to isolate them, deal with them one by one.
The combat circle's perimeter was marked by stone pillars.
If I could maneuver between them, I might be able to limit how many could attack at once.
I made my decision.
Moving with deliberate calm, I approached the nearest Elite—the one armed with a staff.
As soon as I entered striking range, all seven constructs activated simultaneously.
The staff-wielder attacked first, thrusting directly at my chest.
I sidestepped, grabbed the staff, and used the construct's momentum to pull it off balance.
As it stumbled forward, I drove my elbow into its back, pushing it toward the two constructs on my left.
The collision bought me precious seconds.
I darted between the stone pillars, establishing a defensive position with my back protected.
Two Elites followed immediately—one with short blades, one unarmed.
Their attacks came in perfect coordination.
I blocked the bladed strike, deflecting it toward the unarmed construct.
When they adjusted, I countered with a sweeping kick that forced them to reset.
The momentary opening was all I needed.
I surged forward, landing a solid blow on the unarmed Elite's chest.
It staggered back, its wooden frame creaking under the impact.
Before I could press the advantage, the remaining constructs converged.
The next few minutes were pure survival instinct.
Blocking, parrying, evading.
Taking glancing hits when full blocks were impossible.
Looking for any opening, no matter how small.
Gradually, a pattern emerged in their attacks.
The Elites coordinated their movements, but they had programmed limitations—predictable responses to specific actions.
I began to exploit these patterns.
When two attacked simultaneously, I positioned myself so they hindered each other.
When one committed to a powerful strike, I used its momentum against it.
Slowly, methodically, I began to gain ground.
The first Elite fell when I managed to disarm it, taking its wooden sword and driving it through the construct's leg joint.
The second went down after I lured it into charging at me, then pivoted at the last second, sending it crashing into a stone pillar.
By the time four had been disabled or severely damaged, I was bleeding from a dozen minor cuts and sporting what would become impressive bruises.
But I was still standing.
Still fighting.
The remaining three Elites adjusted their strategy, becoming more cautious.
They circled me, looking for weaknesses.
I didn't give them time to find any.
I went on the offensive, targeting the one with the chain weapon first.
It was the most dangerous at range, but potentially vulnerable in close quarters.
I closed distance rapidly, accepting a glancing hit from the chain to get inside its guard.
Three precise strikes later, its arm joint splintered.
The chain weapon clattered to the ground.
I scooped it up without breaking stride.
Now armed, I faced the final two Elites with renewed confidence.
The fight became a blur of motion.
The chain in my hand felt like an extension of my arm.
I used it to entangle one Elite while engaging the other with kicks and elbow strikes.
When the opportunity presented itself, I swept the feet from beneath one construct and delivered a finishing blow to its chest.
One Elite remained—the largest, heaviest of the group.
It had been holding back, studying me, learning my patterns.
When we engaged, it countered my techniques with disturbing accuracy.
Every attack I attempted, it seemed to anticipate.
Time for something unexpected.
I feigned exhaustion, letting my guard drop slightly.
The Elite charged, as I'd hoped.
At the last possible moment, I dropped to the ground, sliding beneath its attack.
As it passed over me, I drove upward with all my strength, striking a critical joint in its wooden frame.
The construct crashed to the ground.
I rolled to my feet and delivered the final blow before it could recover.
The combat circle fell silent.
Seven Elite constructs lay damaged or disabled around me.
I stood in the center, breathing hard but victorious.
Jirou approached, inspecting the aftermath with those unreadable black eyes.
"Acceptable," he pronounced after a moment.
Just acceptable?
I'd defeated seven advanced training constructs simultaneously.
With no weapons of my own.
After months of brutal training.
And all I got was "acceptable"?
"Thanks," I managed between breaths, too exhausted to argue the point.
Jirou circled the combat area, examining each fallen construct.
"Your strategy was sound," he acknowledged. "You recognized your limitations and adapted accordingly."
He paused by the largest Elite, the one I'd defeated last.
"However, you relied too heavily on physical skill alone," he continued. "In true combat, essence would have been a factor."
Well, of course.
Hard to use essence when it's been sealed for the past four months.
"I work with what I've got," I pointed out.
Jirou nodded slightly, conceding the point.
"Indeed," he said. "Which is why today marks a transition in your training."
He gestured for me to follow him to the central stone.
I complied, wincing at the various pains now making themselves known throughout my body.
When we reached the stone table, Jirou turned to face me.
"Your physical foundation is now adequate," he stated. "Today, I will unseal your essence flow."
I stared at him, not quite believing what I'd heard.
"Seriously? After all this time?"
"The vessel must be prepared before the power can be properly channeled," Jirou replied. "Your vessel is now ready."
Without further explanation, he placed his palm against my chest—the same position he'd used to seal my essence months ago.
A strange warmth spread from his hand throughout my body.
Then something inside me shifted—like a dam being partially opened.
Energy rushed through channels I hadn't known existed.
It wasn't overwhelming, but the sensation was unlike anything I'd experienced before.
"Whoa," I breathed, looking down at my hands.
They appeared normal, but they felt different—charged somehow.
"Your essence flow is now accessible," Jirou confirmed. "Though still limited to prevent damage."
I opened my status window, curious to see the changes.
Name: Zensalem Holloway
Race: Human
Innate Essence: [Shadow]
Essence Rank: E-
Essence Flow: 25/100
Essence Mark: None
Vein Stability: 100%
Known Techniques: None
Affiliation: None
I'd improved from F+ to E-.
Not a massive jump, but progress nonetheless.
And my Flow had increased significantly.
"I'm up to E- now," I noted with cautious satisfaction.
Jirou seemed unsurprised.
"The rank updates based on actual capability," he explained. "Your physical training has strengthened your essence pathways even while they were sealed."
He gestured toward the combat circle again.
"Now we begin Essence Integration training."
Back to the circle. Of course.
No rest for the weary in Jirou's curriculum.
When we returned to the training area, the damaged Elites had been removed.
In their place stood a single, unmarked training post.
"Essence, at its most basic level, flows along the same pathways as physical energy," Jirou began. "The distinction most users make between body and essence is artificial."
He placed his hand on the training post.
"Strike this post as you normally would," he instructed, stepping aside.
I approached the post and delivered a solid straight punch.
The impact was satisfying—a clean hit with proper form.
The post shuddered slightly but remained firmly in place.
"Now," Jirou continued, "close your eyes. Feel the essence flowing through your body. Notice how it concentrates in your core, then disperses."
I did as instructed, becoming aware of a subtle energy current within me.
"Direct that flow," Jirou said. "Not out from your body, but through it. Into your strike."
I focused, visualizing the energy following my physical movement.
When I struck the post again, the result was dramatically different.
The wood splintered under my fist, cracks spreading from the impact point.
I stepped back, startled by the difference.
"That's... significant," I said, examining my undamaged knuckles with surprise.
"Essence-reinforced movement," Jirou explained. "The foundation of combat essence use."
For the next hour, he guided me through basic exercises in channeling essence through my physical actions.
Punches became more powerful.
Kicks more devastating.
Even simple movements like walking or jumping gained new dimensions of efficiency and power.
"Most essence users separate their abilities from physical action," Jirou explained. "They cast from a distance, manipulate from afar. This is inefficient."
He demonstrated, delivering a strike to a fresh training post that reduced it to splinters with barely any visible effort.
"True mastery begins with integration," he continued. "Body and essence moving as one."
By mid-afternoon, I was beginning to grasp the fundamental concept.
It wasn't about forcing the essence outward in flashy displays.
It was about circulating it through existing pathways—muscles, tendons, bones—enhancing what was already there.
"Your shadow essence has particular affinity for this approach," Jirou noted as we paused for water.
"How so?" I asked.
"Shadow essence relates to density, weight, and presence," he explained. "It naturally enhances physical impact when properly directed."
That explained why my strikes felt heavier when I channeled essence through them.
"Tomorrow, we will begin applying this in combat situations," Jirou announced.
"Against the Elites again?" I asked, not particularly looking forward to a rematch so soon.
"No," Jirou replied. "Against me."
I nearly choked on my water.
"You?" I repeated. "With essence?"
The thought was terrifying.
Jirou was already nearly impossible to touch in normal sparring.
With essence in play, he'd be completely overwhelming.
"Limited, of course," he clarified. "But yes. True progress requires authentic challenge."
Great.
Looking forward to getting absolutely demolished.
"Rest now," Jirou instructed. "Your body must adjust to the renewed essence flow."
I nodded, suddenly aware of a deep fatigue setting in.
As I made my way to my usual resting spot, I felt Jirou's gaze follow me.
There was something different in his attention now—more evaluative, more focused.
Almost as if he were seeing me clearly for the first time.
Or perhaps measuring me against some standard I couldn't perceive.
That night, my dreams were vivid and strange.
I stood in the combat circle, but the stone beneath my feet pulsed with golden light.
Jirou watched from the periphery, his black eyes reflecting the glow.
"Begin," he said, but his voice echoed oddly.
I moved to strike an invisible opponent, and shadow trailed from my fists—not like smoke or mist, but like dense, physical material.
Each movement left traces in the air, solidifying briefly before dissolving.
"More," Jirou commanded. "Channel deeper."
I pushed harder, drawing more essence into my movements.
The shadows grew denser, more substantial.
They began to take forms—weapons, shields, extensions of my own limbs.
"Yes," Jirou said, approach closer. "Now you begin to understand."
But his voice had changed.
When I looked up, it wasn't Jirou watching me anymore.
It was the silver-haired woman I'd glimpsed in the stone's memory.
"He sees it in you," she said, her voice both sorrowful and hopeful. "The potential."
"For what?" I asked.
She smiled sadly.
"For freedom," she replied. "Or for binding."
Before I could ask what she meant, the dream dissolved.
I woke with a start, the strange vision still vivid in my mind.
Dawn was just breaking, the misty sky lightening above the training ground.
I sat up, flexing my fingers experimentally.
The essence flow still hummed through my body—subtle but unmistakable.
For the first time since arriving in the Veilroot, I felt something approaching actual magical potential.
"You're awake," Jirou observed, appearing silently as he always did.
"Weird dreams," I explained, standing to greet him.
"The essence flow affects consciousness," he said matter-of-factly. "This will pass as you adapt."
He studied me with that same evaluative gaze I'd noticed yesterday.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"Different," I admitted. "Like there's an extra dimension to everything."
Jirou nodded, seemingly satisfied.
"Today we begin integrating essence fully into your combat training," he announced. "But first, a demonstration."
He led me to an open area away from the usual training grounds.
Here, a series of massive stone blocks had been arranged in a line.
Each was roughly the size of a small car, carved from the same material as the training ground floor.
Without explanation, Jirou approached the first block.
He stood motionless before it for several seconds, his breathing deep and controlled.
Then, with no apparent effort, he struck the stone once.
Nothing happened at first.
Then a hairline crack appeared.
The crack spread, branching into dozens of others.
Within seconds, the entire block collapsed into perfectly even pieces, as if sliced by invisible blades.
I stared, astonished.
"That's what we're working toward?" I asked incredulously.
"Eventually," Jirou confirmed. "Essence at its highest expression requires no external display. No flashy techniques. Simply perfect integration of intent and action."
He turned to face me.
"Your turn," he said, gesturing to a much smaller stone next to the collapsed block.
"You're joking, right?" I laughed nervously. "I just got my essence unsealed yesterday."
"I do not expect you to shatter it," Jirou clarified. "Simply strike with full integration of physical movement and essence flow."
I approached the stone dubiously.
It was about waist-high, rough and uneven in texture.
I centered myself, focusing on the essence flowing through my body.
Inhale for eight. Hold for four. Exhale for eight. Hold for four.
As I breathed, I directed the energy—not outward, but inward.
Through muscle, tendon, bone.
When I felt ready, I struck.
My fist connected with the stone.
Pain shot up my arm—not as bad as it should have been, but still significant.
The stone remained completely intact.
"Again," Jirou instructed. "Less thinking. More feeling."
I reset and tried once more.
This time, I focused less on directing the essence and more on simply experiencing it.
Awareness of its presence, its movement, its connection to my physical form.
My second strike produced a small chip in the stone's surface.
Progress, albeit minimal.
"Better," Jirou acknowledged. "Now we begin in earnest."
For the rest of the morning, I practiced striking progressively harder materials—wood, stone, eventually metal.
Each material required different essence integration.
Wood absorbed. Stone resisted. Metal deflected.
By midday, I could reliably damage materials that should have broken my hand under normal circumstances.
"Your progress is satisfactory," Jirou assessed as we paused for the midday meal. "This afternoon we apply these principles to movement and combat."
I flexed my hand, marveling at how unmarked it was despite hours of striking hard surfaces.
"This is just the beginning, isn't it?" I asked.
Jirou nodded, that evaluative look returning to his eyes.
"Indeed," he said quietly. "Just the beginning."