Present day
The sun dipped low behind the city skyline as Liam stepped into the house. The faint hum of the afternoon breeze filled the air, carrying with it the scent of earth and fading daylight. He dropped his bag by the door, rolled his shoulders, and kicked off his shoes.
Dreck was waiting in the living room, seated cross-legged on the floor like a stone statue. His eyes opened as Liam entered.
"You're back," he said quietly, his voice calm. "Good."
Liam nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. "Yeah. Normal day for once."
Dreck gestured for him to sit. "Then let's make the most of it. We don't know how many normal days are left."
There was a pause. The room felt still—heavy with something unspoken.
"Black veil may strike soon," Dreck said. "And when they do, they won't wait for you to be ready."
Liam's expression hardened.
"That's why," Dreck continued, "we're done with drills. No more rehearsed forms. No more warmups. Tonight, you learn real Aether Combat. No weapons. No channeling tools. Just you—your body, your breath, and your will."
Liam's eyes lit up, curiosity mixing with determination.
Dreck stood. "Come to the training room."
---
The training room was quiet, with the floor padded and the walls bare. A single light overhead cast long shadows.
"Strip down to your basics," Dreck said. "No shoes. No distractions. You need to feel everything—air, skin, heartbeat, tension."
Liam obeyed.
Dreck stepped into the center. "Aether Combat isn't about flashy moves or dramatic explosions. It's about control. You don't throw your energy wildly—you focus it. Contain it. Sharpen it. Every strike, every step, must carry intention."
He raised a hand. "Close your eyes. Breathe in slowly."
Liam did.
"Now… feel the energy inside you. It's not just flowing randomly. It's moving through channels—your limbs, your spine, your breath."
Dreck circled him silently. "You will learn to concentrate that energy. Compress it in your palm, and release it in a punch. Store it in your legs, and launch like a spring. Anchor it in your core, and become unshakable."
Liam exhaled, his focus tightening.
"Good. Now, try this—channel your energy to your right fist. Don't move. Just feel it."
Seconds passed.
A faint pulse flickered under Liam's skin—his fist tingled, warm.
"That's it," Dreck said. "Now hold it. Keep it there."
Liam grit his teeth. The energy resisted, trying to slip away.
"Concentration is your first weapon," Dreck said. "When your enemy moves, your energy must already be waiting. Not chasing. Waiting."
The next hour passed in pure, silent training.
Liam learned to shift energy into his legs and lock it in place—forming what Dreck called the Aether Anchor. It made him feel like a mountain. Unmoving. Solid.
He practiced controlled bursts—quick pulses of energy through the limbs to boost speed or add power to a single blow. Not raw strength. Precision.
No shouting. No sparks. Just sweat. Breath. Will.
By the end, Liam collapsed to one knee, drenched and shaking.
Dreck stood before him, arms crossed.
"Your power doesn't come from a weapon," he said. "It comes from you. And no one can take that."
Liam looked up, breath ragged but eyes sharp.
"Then I'll master it," he said.
Dreck nodded. "Good.
"Get up. We start again
This time, Dreck was already in motion—fists flowing through practiced arcs, each move exact, balanced, and silent like the wind. Liam stood opposite him.
Now." Dreck said without looking, "you'll learn how Aether becomes a weapon. Not a sword. Not a staff. Something better."
Liam raised an eyebrow. "What's better than a weapon?"
Dreck smirked. "A strike that doesn't miss. A movement that can't be stopped."
He stepped forward. "Focus. Close your eyes. Recall what you learned earlier. Feel the Aether."
Liam shut his eyes. Slowly, the world faded until only his breath and pulse remained. The energy moved—this time smoother, easier. He could guide it now. Shift it. Hold it.
"Now," Dreck said, "concentrate it into your core. Not your fist. Not your foot. Your center."
Liam obeyed. Pressure built in his gut—a burning warmth like molten light. He grit his teeth and contained it, sweat sliding down his jaw.
"Good," Dreck said. "Now move it outward. Let it flood your body evenly. Become the weapon."
Liam took a breath.
The air around him rippled.
Suddenly, energy burst through his arms and legs—not in chaotic pulses, but in tight coils, wrapping and pulsing like silent currents. He instinctively struck forward—no form, no taught style, just intention.
The impact of his fist released a sharp shockwave that cracked the padded wall.
Dreck stepped back, stunned.
"That wasn't—" he began, but paused, watching Liam.
The boy's eyes glowed faintly, veins lit with threads of blue light. His fists weren't glowing—they were compressing. Energy visibly shrank around his hands, like it was folding inward.
Liam staggered, breathing heavily. "What was that?"
Dreck stepped forward, cautious.
"That… wasn't what I taught you."
He circled Liam, examining him like a puzzle.
"You didn't just channel Aether—you compressed it. That technique isn't in any manual. It's… yours."
Liam blinked. "I didn't mean to—"
"Exactly," Dreck said, almost breathless. "It was instinct. You shaped it based on pressure. You created a condensed form of force—not wide, not flashy—focused. Like a needle through steel."
Liam looked down at his hands. They trembled—but they pulsed with quiet energy.
Dreck folded his arms, eyes narrowed in thought. "I've seen warriors craft techniques over years. Decades. But you… You did it in a day. This… this could change everything."
Liam exhaled, still catching up.
---
Dreck stepped back, his eyes still locked on Liam's hand. "Do it again," he ordered, voice low but firm.
Liam hesitated for a breath, then closed his eyes and focused. The sensation was easier this time—like calling on something that had always been there, just beneath the surface. He pulled the aether inward, felt it wrap tightly around his palm, and let it settle.
The air around his hand shimmered faintly, like heat rising from stone.
Dreck narrowed his gaze. "Hold it right there."
He exhaled slowly, then shut his eyes. A subtle shift occurred. When he opened them again, his irises glowed faintly with streaks of silver-blue.
Liam blinked. "Your eyes…"
"I compressed aether into my optic nerves," Dreck muttered. "It lets me see things others can't. Raw energy flow. Aether structures. Techniques not visible to the naked eye."
He stepped closer and studied Liam's hand, his expression darkening with awe. "Unbelievable… You've formed a Zero Edge. It's not elemental. Not physical. It's like your hand is wrapped in a thread of honed silence—thin, but sharp enough to split atoms."
Liam stared at his own palm, which still looked normal to him. "You can see that?"
Dreck nodded. "Aether vision. Only high-level practitioners can use it. You manipulate energy with your mind, but to see it... requires layered compression into your visual cortex. Painful at first, but it opens an entirely different world."
"Why don't you teach that first?" Liam asked, stunned.
Dreck smirked. "Because most people aren't ready. If you force your eyes to see energy too early, it could burn your nerves from the inside."
Liam swallowed. "So that means there's still a lot I don't know…"
"Aether is like an ocean," Dreck said, crossing his arms. "You're just stepping off the shore. There are deeper layers—concepts like void resonance, time-slowing, limb focusing, inner echo fields… You've tapped into one of them naturally."
Liam let the energy go, his hand returning to normal. He was silent for a long moment.
"So what now?"
Dreck's tone grew serious. "Now, we refine it. You don't use a blade that sharp without discipline. If you can master it.
A chill ran down Liam's spine. Not fear—but anticipation.
"What do we call it?" he asked.
Dreck paused, then nodded.
"You earned the right to name it."
Liam looked at his fist—small, contained, deadly.
He could feel it but can't see it.
He whispered, "Zero Edge."
Dreck smiled faintly. "A strike with no wasted motion. A weapon with no blade. You've just rewritten Aether Combat, Liam."