"Then we test you."
The words barely registered before something struck him.
Hard.
Adéọlá barely raised his arm in time before the impact sent him skidding across the ground.
Pain flared.
"Too slow, i have lowered my cultivation to you level. So impress me!" Varkhul said.
Adéọlá pushed himself up quickly.
"…you could have warned me."
"I did."
"You didn't."
"I implied it."
"…that doesn't count."
The next attack came faster.
Adéọlá reacted—
But not enough.
The force slammed into his side, knocking the air from his lungs as he hit the ground again.
"Your body has improved," Afoláyan observed calmly.
"But your application is lacking."
Adéọlá coughed.
"…I noticed."
"Stand."
He did.
Barely.
Varkhul stepped forward, grinning devilishly.
"This time—do not hold back because i won't."
Adéọlá frowned.
"…I wasn't holding back."
"You were."
A pause.
"Emotionally."
The next strike came.
Adéọlá braced—
And something changed.
Anger surged.
Not controlled.
Not measured.
Raw.
Violent.
His father's fall.
His mother's last words.
The fire.
The helplessness.
It all rose at once.
And for the first time—
He did not suppress it.
He moved.
Faster.
Stronger.
The Àṣẹ within him flared violently, responding to the surge of emotion.
His strike landed.
Not clean.
Not perfect.
But enough to force Varkhul back a step.
The demon's eyes sharpened.
"…yes."
"Good. Time to get serious, let's have fun boy haha..."
Afoláyan's voice cut through sharply.
"Stop."
Adéọlá froze.
His breathing was uneven.
His body trembling.
"What you are doing," Afoláyan said, "it is dangerous."
Varkhul stepped forward again.
"It is necessary. I need to measure his growth"
"It is unstable. If your punch land you will cripple him"
"It is power. He needs to learn how to control and the best way is fighting it out"
"It is destruction."
"It is growth."
"It is loss of control."
Adéọlá looked between them.
"…which one of you is right?"
They answered together.
"I am."
"I am."
He sighed.
"…of course."
Afoláyan spoke again.
"There must be balance."
Varkhul did not disagree.
"…control what fuels you."
Adéọlá frowned.
"…like… both?"
Afoláyan nodded.
"Restraint without strength is weakness."
Varkhul added:
"Strength without restraint is collapse."
Adéọlá exhaled slowly.
"…so I need both."
Afoláyan's expression softened slightly.
"Like opposing forces."
Varkhul smirked.
"…like war contained."
Adéọlá considered it.
"…like… two sides."
Afoláyan inclined his head.
"Yes."
"Yin and yang," Varkhul said casually.
Adéọlá blinked.
"…you know that concept?"
"I know many things."
"…of course you do."
Training resumed.
Harder this time.
More controlled.
More dangerous.
Adéọlá learned to draw from his anger—
Without losing himself to it.
To restrain—
Without weakening.
It was not perfect.
But it was progress.
Between training—
He learned.
Languages came first.
Fragments of sound.
Patterns.
Structures.
Surprisingly—
Familiar.
"…this is close to mine," Adéọlá said one day.
"Origins often overlap," Afoláyan replied.
"Evolution diverges," Varkhul added.
"…I'm starting to understand both of you too easily."
"That is intentional."
"…I don't like that."
Then—
Crafts.
Artifact refining.
Alchemy.
Beast taming.
Each skill built on the last.
Each lesson revealing something deeper.
Time lost its meaning
Power gained one.
Days passed.
Or weeks.
Adéọlá no longer counted.
He stood once more at the edge of the ruined land.
His breathing steady.
His body stronger.
His mind sharper.
Not complete.
But no longer lost.
Behind him—
Two teachers.
Opposites.
Allies.
Enemies.
Within him—
Two forces.
Held in balance.
Barely.
Adéọlá looked out across the world.
Not as a survivor.
But as something becoming.
"…again," he said.
And this time—
He meant everything.