The days passed like falling leaves on a breeze.
Clark's training continued in secret. Each morning, he woke before dawn and slipped away from the house. His body moved instinctively now, flowing with the basics of Sonido—a brief blur of speed here, a flicker of movement there. His Extrasensory Perception was slowly becoming reliable. With enough concentration, he could sense the heartbeat of a bird behind a tree or feel when someone approached the forest edge. His Red Demon Eyes, though still underdeveloped, had begun to flicker with crimson light when his concentration peaked.
His training had no fanfare. No praise. But Clark grew stronger with each failure and small breakthrough.
And then, the days became months.
Half a year passed. Clark had now reached six and a half years old.
The village of Malinta, quiet and mostly forgotten by the larger cities of Novaria, stirred with more activity than usual. Colorful cloths draped from simple wooden posts. Children whispered in excitement. Elders chuckled softly, preparing for the annual ceremony.
It was the day of the Eidran Awakening Ceremony.
Clark woke before the sun, dressed in simple clothes, and stared at himself in the mirror for a long moment. His black hair had grown longer, his eyes more thoughtful. Though still a child by appearance, there was a depth behind his gaze that most didn't expect.
He walked out into the main room, where Jordan sat sipping a cup of tea at the wooden table.
"You're up early," Jordan said.
"I couldn't sleep," Clark replied, sitting across from him.
Jordan nodded. He didn't smile. He didn't need to. There was quiet understanding in his presence.
A knock sounded at the door.
Jordan stood and opened it.
An old man, wrapped in a cloak far too thick for the morning breeze, stood outside. His face was wrinkled but lively, his eyes glinting with mischief and wisdom.
"Jordan," the old man greeted.
"Old Jack," Jordan replied flatly.
Clark blinked. "Old Jack?"
Old Jack beamed at him. "You must be the boy. SanJose Clark. It's time."
Jordan crossed his arms. "So they're starting the ceremony early this year."
"I figured you'd appreciate it. You still live in this village after all," Old Jack said. "And besides, you've been hiding your son away long enough."
Jordan didn't answer. He simply glanced at Clark.
"Go with him. Don't do anything foolish."
Clark nodded and followed Old Jack out the door.
The town square was already bustling with noise. A small group of children gathered under Old Jack's guidance, standing awkwardly near the central fountain.
Elizabeth was among them. Graceful as ever, her golden hair catching the light of the morning sun, her eyes calm and unreadable.
Beside her stood Lucien. Tall, composed, and dressed in clothing too refined for most village children. He nodded at Clark respectfully. Clark returned the gesture with a small nod of his own.
"Alright, everyone! Line up! We're heading to the Awakening Hall," Old Jack called.
The group of children followed him as they made their way through the stone-paved path leading to the ceremonial grounds.
As they approached the Statue, Clark's eyes were drawn toward it.
He activated the Red Demon Eyes.
A crimson glow flashed in his pupils. The world seemed to slow.
The oppressive aura wavered, thinned, and cracked enough for Clark to breathe again.
He collapsed to one knee, panting.
"Whew... I feel this person is super strong... the pressure on his aura is so dense and terrifying. It's a good thing I resisted it with my Red Demon Eyes... but it consumed half of my Spiritual Energy."
He stood up, steadied himself, and caught up with the others.
Elizabeth glanced at him but said nothing. Lucien raised an eyebrow, but remained silent.
Old Jack looked back once. Just once. And smiled.
It towered above the plaza. A robed figure, holding a broken sword, his eyes carved to gaze eternally toward the sky. His presence felt more than seen. There was an intensity to the statue that pushed down on Clark's chest like a mountain.
The closer he got, the more he felt it—a force, a presence—an aura.
Clark stopped.
His heart pounded. His limbs trembled. He felt like he couldn't breathe.
"This statue... this person—what is this pressure?"
The group finally arrived at the Awakening Hall, a stone building near the village's edge. It was old but well-kept, its arched entrance adorned with faded banners.
The children stood outside, whispering among themselves.
Clark stood slightly apart, eyes closed, his perception spreading.
Then—a flicker.
A presence. Suddenly appearing. Like a shadow where there was none before.
Clark's body stiffened.
"Someone's here... who is this person who suddenly appeared?"
A tall man in robes materialized in front of the hall.
Old Jack clapped his hands. "Oh dear Eidran Master! This year, kids will awaken their own Avatars!"
The Eidran Master glanced down at the children, then at Old Jack.
"You always say that, but I've been to six towns and none of them have Eidra Energy. Hopefully this year's batch will have some, so that my task can somehow be fulfilling," he said dryly.
He turned and pushed open the great stone doors of the Awakening Hall.
A rush of ancient air swept outward, stirring the grass.
"Kids," Old Jack said, smiling, "follow the respected Eidran Master into the hall and awaken your Avatar. I'll wait for you all here outside."
Chapter Ends.