The first light of dawn stretched across the Forgotten Isle.
Golden rays spilt over the mountain peaks, washing the black cliffs and ancient courtyards in warm light. The sea below crashed against the rocks in a steady rhythm, like the heartbeat of the island itself.
In the central training ground, Rudra stood alone.
His small hands gripped the cracked wooden spear tightly.
His arms still ached from the second-floor trial.
His legs trembled.
His shoulders burned.
But his eyes—
His eyes were brighter than ever.
Lord Vajra Sen stood before him, towering like an iron mountain.
The old warlord's gaze swept over the child.
"You cleared the second floor."
It was not a question.
Rudra nodded.
"Yes, Master."
For a moment, silence lingered between them.
Then Vajra Sen slowly extended his hand.
"Show me."
Rudra blinked.
"Show you?"
"The technique."
Realisation struck him.
The Iron Spear Foundation Art.
The knowledge from the tower stirred within his mind like a flowing river.
Breathing.
Footwork.
Stance.
Grip.
Rudra took a deep breath and stepped back.
He lowered his centre of gravity.
One foot forward.
One foot behind.
The spear aligned with his shoulder.
His small body naturally shifted into the First Foundation Stance.
For the first time, Vajra Sen's expression visibly changed.
A flicker of surprise crossed his sharp eyes.
The stance was imperfect.
Childish.
Unstable.
But it was correct.
Far too correct for a two-year-old.
The other masters had also gathered around the courtyard.
Lady Nivara watched with narrowed silver eyes.
"The tower truly gave him a combat inheritance."
Sage Orion looked toward the sky.
"The stars are moving faster than expected."
Vajra Sen spoke coldly.
"Strike."
Rudra nodded.
He thrust the wooden spear forward.
The movement was clumsy.
Yet it followed the exact path of the technique.
The spear cut through the air with a faint whistle.
Vajra Sen's eyes sharpened.
Again.
Rudra struck once more.
Then again.
Then again.
The warlord circled him slowly.
"Too much force in the shoulders."
He tapped Rudra's arm lightly.
"Relax."
Rudra adjusted.
"Your feet are unstable."
A gentle kick repositioned his stance.
"Your breath is scattered."
Vajra Sen placed a hand against Rudra's back.
"Move with the breath."
For the next several hours, the child repeated the same thrust.
Again.
And again.
And again.
The sun climbed higher.
Sweat soaked Rudra's clothes.
His palms had begun to blister.
His tiny hands bled slightly from gripping the wooden shaft.
Yet he did not complain.
He only thrust forward.
Again.
Again.
Again.
By midday, Rudra's body finally gave out.
He dropped to one knee.
Panting.
Vajra Sen looked down at him.
"Why do you continue?"
Rudra raised his head.
His voice was weak but steady.
"Because I need strength."
The Iron Warlord's gaze deepened.
"For revenge?"
Rudra hesitated.
Images of fire and blood flashed through his mind.
Then he shook his head.
"No."
The masters behind them all looked toward him.
Rudra's fists clenched.
"To protect."
A rare silence fell over the courtyard.
Vajra Sen stared at him for a long moment.
Then, slowly—
He nodded.
"Good."
His voice was low.
"Strength gained only for revenge will one day consume the wielder."
He lifted Rudra back to his feet.
"But strength forged for protection becomes unbreakable."
For the first time, the old warlord placed both hands upon the spear.
He positioned Rudra's grip personally.
"Watch carefully."
Then Vajra Sen moved.
The spear in his hand became a streak of iron lightning.
A single thrust.
The air exploded.
A stone pillar fifty metres away shattered instantly.
Rudra's eyes widened.
The masters behind them remained calm.
They had seen this countless times.
But for Rudra—
It was the first glimpse of true martial power.
The Iron Warlord turned.
"This is the path of the spear."
He pointed toward the broken pillar.
"Straight."
"Resolute."
"Unyielding."
"Like the heart of a warrior."
Rudra stared at the shattered stone.
Something ignited inside him.
This was the power he sought.
This was the path he wanted.
He raised the wooden spear once more.
This time, his stance was firmer.
His breath is steadier.
His eyes are clearer.
He thrust.
The air gave a faint whistle.
A small crack appeared on the training dummy before him.
Everyone froze.
Even Vajra Sen's eyes narrowed.
At only two years old—
He had produced the first trace of spear force.
The Iron Warlord slowly smiled.
A genuine smile.
"The spear path has begun."
Far beneath Rudra's robes, the black pendant pulsed softly.
Deep within the Sovereign Tower—
The third-floor gate lit up faintly, while the distant silhouette of the tenth floor remained sealed in darkness, where an ancient guardian spirit slumbered.
Rudra could not yet see it.
But somewhere high above—
Something was waiting for the day he reached the tenth floor.