Darkness swallowed everything, stretching endlessly in all directions, suffocating and absolute. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, and the sound of slow, grotesque slurping echoed through the void.
A monstrous figure loomed ahead, its shape eerily human yet unmistakably inhuman. Its hollow, glowing eyes gleamed with malice as it hunched over a helpless victim, its clawed hands pinning them down. Blood dripped from its lips, staining the ground beneath it.
Zalk's breath hitched, his chest tightening with terror and anguish. His heart pounded against his ribs like a war drum, each beat louder than the last. He willed his legs to move, to push forward, to reach the victim before it was too late. But no matter how hard he ran, the distance between him and the horrifying scene remained unchanged—an endless, mocking gap that refused to close.
His muscles screamed in protest, his lungs burned as he forced himself to go faster. "No… no, I have to stop it!" he shouted, desperation clawing at his throat. His voice, however, seemed to be swallowed by the darkness, fading into nothing.
Then, suddenly, a voice—low, taunting, dripping with disdain—whispered into his ears, sending an icy chill down his spine.
"You are weak."
The words slithered into his mind like venom, poisoning every thought, every ounce of willpower he had left.
Zalk's body jolted violently as his eyes snapped open. His chest heaved, his breaths ragged and uneven. A cold sweat drenched his skin, making his clothes cling uncomfortably to him. His hands trembled, his fingers digging into the sheets beneath him as he struggled to steady himself.
For a moment, he just lay there, staring at the ceiling, his mind reeling from the vivid nightmare. The whispers still echoed in his ears, the horrifying scene burned into his memory.
"That was…" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, heavy with unease and sorrow.
Even though he was awake, the lingering sense of helplessness refused to fade.
At precisely 4 o'clock, the three of them gathered at the training ground, the morning air crisp and cool. The sky was painted in hues of orange and pink as the sun slowly began its ascent, casting long shadows over the open field.
Zalk stretched his arms casually, his sharp eyes scanning his two students, who stood before him with unwavering determination. He smirked slightly before speaking.
"Had a good sleep?" he asked, his voice carrying a relaxed yet authoritative tone.
"Yes, sir!" both boys responded in unison, their voices filled with eagerness and resolve.
Zalk let out a small chuckle, his smirk widening. "Good. Now, we will continue yesterday's training. Go, take your positions!" His voice carried a playful edge, though his eyes held an unspoken challenge.
Fayaz, adjusting his stance, glanced at Zalk with a mix of amusement and mild frustration. "But sir, how long are we going to stick with this?" he asked, his tone carrying a hint of humor.
"Until you both can balance for more than 12 hours," Zalk replied, his expression calm but with an unmistakable glint of amusement in his eyes.
Sanma's mouth fell open, his face painted with shock and disbelief. "What?! Are you joking?!" he blurted out, his voice almost cracking.
Zalk crossed his arms, his smirk never fading. "Not at all. I'm as serious as a rock," he said firmly, his deep voice making it clear that there was no room for negotiation.
"But why, sir?" Sanma stammered, his expression one of sheer confusion.
Zalk let out a deep sigh before stepping forward, his gaze shifting between the two boys. "You need to understand something," he said, his voice carrying a weight that made both boys straighten up. "Mastering Zen is impossible without complete coordination between your mind and body. If your thoughts are scattered, your movements will be unbalanced. If your body is weak, your focus will waver. To achieve mastery, you must first bring harmony within yourselves."
He took a brief pause, letting his words sink in before continuing. "Your mind must be as still as a calm lake, your heart unwavering like a mountain, and your body as steady as the earth beneath your feet. Without this balance, you cannot hope to grasp the true essence of Zen."
The seriousness in his voice was unmistakable, yet the smirk on his face remained, as if daring them to rise to the challenge. "Do you understand now?" he asked, his piercing gaze locked onto them.
Both Fayaz and Sanma swallowed hard, their previous protests fading as the weight of his words settled over them. They nodded in unison, determination burning anew in their eyes.
"Good," Zalk said, turning away. "Now, take your positions."
Both of them struggled to maintain their balance on the platform, failing time and time again. Each attempt ended with them stumbling, their bodies betraying them as they fell onto the hard ground below. Their legs ached, their muscles burned, and frustration threatened to creep in—but their determination never wavered. No matter how many times they fell, they got back up, their resolve hardening like tempered steel.
Minutes stretched into hours, the scorching sun bearing down on them as sweat dripped from their foreheads. The hours turned into days, and still, they pushed themselves beyond their limits, refusing to give up. Their failures became lessons, each fall teaching them something new about their bodies, their balance, and their willpower.
Then, after ten relentless days of perseverance, something changed. Sanma, exhausted yet unwilling to surrender, took a deep breath and steadied himself on the platform. His legs wobbled, but he held firm. His heartbeat thundered in his chest, but he remained unmoving. Seconds passed, then minutes, and realization struck him like a bolt of lightning—he had done it. He had finally mastered the balance.
"Yesss!! I did it!" Sanma cried out, his voice filled with sheer exhilaration. His heart raced, but this time, it wasn't from exertion—it was from triumph. He clenched his fists and screamed with uncontainable joy, his body trembling with excitement.
Turning toward Fayaz, he grinned widely, his eyes shining with confidence. "Now it's your turn, Fayaz!" he declared, his voice brimming with belief in his friend.
Fayaz inhaled deeply, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. "Now, it's my time," he told himself, determination flickering in his eyes. Yet, despite his resolve, a faint sense of unease gnawed at him. Could he do it? Would he succeed as Sanma had?
He pushed the doubts aside and threw himself back into the training with renewed vigor. Every fall, every misstep only fueled his desire to succeed. He trained tirelessly, his body aching, his mind focused on a single goal. Two more days passed, each second feeling like an eternity.
Then, at last, it happened. Fayaz found his center, his balance no longer slipping away. He stood firm, unwavering, his breathing steady. He had done it.
"Yes! Finally, I did it!" Fayaz shouted, his voice filled with both triumph and relief. He let out a deep sigh, his entire body relaxing as the weight of the challenge lifted from his shoulders.
Sanma, unable to contain his joy, ran toward him with a broad smile. "That's amazing, brother!" he cheered, his voice overflowing with pride and excitement. He clapped Fayaz on the back, celebrating his long-fought victory.
Both of them stood tall, their hardships now a memory, their success a testament to their perseverance.As the sun dipped lower, casting golden hues across the training ground, Zalk arrived at the scene. His sharp eyes scanned the two boys, standing atop the platform, their exhaustion evident yet overshadowed by triumph. He had watched their struggle, their persistence, and now, their success.
A small, satisfied smile flickered across his face, but his voice remained firm. "So, you both have finally achieved the feat. Congratulations on your first victory," he said, his tone carrying both approval and seriousness. "But don't celebrate too much—this is just the beginning. There's still much more to achieve, and you both know that, don't you?"
Fayaz and Sanma, still catching their breath, straightened up. "Yes, sir," they responded with pride and determination.
Zalk crossed his arms, a smirk playing on his lips. "Good. Tomorrow, we start a new training regime. So don't get clumsy—be ready." His voice held both excitement and authority.
"Yes, sir!" the boys replied in unison, their spirits unshaken.
Their journey had only just begun.