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Requiem of the Lost Exiled

In the unforgiving world of the Exiled Lands, where the desperate and the damned roam, one man seeks redemption through the crucible of darkness. Su, haunted by the ghosts of his past and driven by a thirst for vengeance, finds himself under the tutelage of a mysterious figure with powers beyond comprehension. As Su embarks on a harrowing journey of self-discovery and survival, he must confront the darkest depths of his own soul and unearth the strength within to face the demons that lurk in the shadows. Will he emerge from the abyss unscathed, or will he be consumed by the darkness that threatens to consume him? "Requiem of the Lost Exiled" is a gripping tale of redemption, betrayal, and the enduring power of the human spirit in the face of adversity.

WolfZael · แฟนตาซี
เรตติ้งไม่พอ
23 Chs

Basics First

Three days had passed since my encounter with the Leyths. My body was still sore, the bruises and cuts a stark reminder of my struggle. Eldran, surprisingly, allowed me some respite, marching at a slower pace so I could recover. I still carried the weights, but the slower pace helped.

My breaths were ragged as we trudged through the desert. Each step was a reminder of my ordeal, but also of my determination to grow stronger. Eldran remained mostly silent during these days, his dark aura a constant presence, yet I sensed a slight shift in his demeanor. He wasn't as cold, but the mystery around him persisted.

On the fourth day, as the sun began its descent, Eldran stopped and turned to me. "You did good surviving that night," he said, his voice carrying a hint of approval.

A surge of excitement shot through me. "Does this mean you're finally going to start teaching me Sutra?" I asked, my eyes wide with anticipation.

Eldran let out a chuckle, a sound I hadn't heard before. "You move like a girl," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Sloppy movements, bad decision-making at times. You don't even know how to throw a proper punch, let alone wield a weapon. At this rate, you're hundreds of years away from learning Sutra."

I felt a mix of embarrassment and frustration. "You didn't have to go that far, old man…" I murmured under my breath.

"But," he continued, ignoring my muttering, "your body is now ready to learn the basics of the basics: how to throw a punch."

He demonstrated, his movements fluid and precise. He shifted his weight onto his back foot, his body coiling like a spring. With a swift, explosive motion, he unleashed a punch. The air seemed to crackle as his fist shot forward, his entire body behind the strike. The force was palpable, even though it hit nothing but air.

"Watch closely," Eldran instructed. "A proper punch doesn't come from the arm alone. It starts from the ground, travels through your legs, hips, torso, and finally your arm. It's a chain reaction, every part of your body working in harmony."

I nodded, trying to absorb every detail. Eldran's punch wasn't just powerful—it was a masterclass in efficiency and precision. His entire body moved as one, each muscle and joint contributing to the force.

Eldran walked over to me, adding more stones to my clothes. "You can't move on with your training until you learn the basics," he said, his tone stern. "Now, try it."

I positioned myself as he had shown, feeling the added weight of the stones pressing down on me. I shifted my weight, coiled my body, and threw a punch. It felt awkward and uncoordinated, a far cry from Eldran's demonstration.

"Again," Eldran commanded.

I repeated the motion, focusing on the chain reaction Eldran had described. With each attempt, my movements became slightly more fluid, slightly more powerful. But it was clear I had a long way to go.

For hours, I practiced under Eldran's watchful eye. Each punch, each movement was critiqued and corrected. The weights in my clothes added an extra layer of difficulty, forcing me to adapt and grow stronger.

As night fell, Eldran allowed me to rest. We set up camp, the flickering fire casting long shadows across the desert sands. I lay down, my body aching but my mind determined.

The next day, we resumed our journey, but now my training continued even as we marched. Eldran would occasionally stop to correct my form. The desert became my training ground, each step a lesson in endurance and resilience.

"Ugh… not again," I muttered as Eldran added yet another stone to my clothes.

Days turned into weeks, each filled with relentless training. Eldran's methods were harsh, but I could feel myself improving. My punches grew more powerful, my movements more fluid. I was beginning to understand the importance of the basics—the foundation upon which everything else would be built.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the desert, Eldran stopped abruptly. "We'll rest here for the night," he said, pointing to a lush oasis in the distance.

Relief washed over me at the sight of the oasis. The prospect of rest and fresh water was almost too good to be true. We made our way to the water's edge, and I immediately knelt down, cupping my hands to drink deeply. The cool water was a balm to my parched throat, and I could feel my strength returning.

Eldran looked around, his eyes scanning the area. "I need to check the surroundings. I'll be back."

"Huff… huff…" I panted, trying to steady my breathing.

Just as I was beginning to relax, I heard a faint rustling near the water. My pulse quickened. "Who's there?" I whispered, more to myself than anything else. The sound grew a bit louder, curiosity getting the better of me.

Unable to contain my curiosity, I rose and cautiously approached the source of the noise, each step slow and deliberate. The adrenaline coursed through my veins, my heart pounding with a mix of curiosity and excitement. Whatever was making the sound was just beyond the water's edge, hidden in the shadows.