When I returned to the underground garden the next day, the rock dust was gone. The ground looked untouched, as if my failure had been absorbed without leaving a scar.

  Eldreich was waiting in the same place, while Mr. Toshihiro stood a few steps behind him, silent.

  “Today we’ll begin with the most basic thing,” Eldreich said.

  That’s never a good sign.

  I stepped closer. He pointed to a boulder that had to weigh several times more than I did.

  “You want me to… move it?”

  “I want you to lift it and remain standing.”

  I blinked.

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  I tried to lift it, but it didn’t budge.

  I adjusted my stance, braced myself, and pushed with my legs. After a moment my arms began to shake and my back protested. I managed to raise it a few inches…

  …and ended up on my knees, gasping.

  Eldreich watched without changing his expression.

  “As expected.”

  He bent down, picked up the rock with one hand, and held it as if it were a sack of feathers.

  “Earth rewards perseverance, not haste.”

  “And what exactly am I supposed to learn from carrying rocks?” I huffed from the ground.

  “That your body is also magic. That every muscle is a root. And without roots, a tree falls at the first wind.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  He placed the rock back where it had been.

  “Try again.”

  I did. And I fell again.

  And again.

  And again.

  So many times I lost count.

  “Rest,” Eldreich finally ordered. “We’ll change methods.”

  That unsettled me even more.

  “We’ll begin with you becoming a stone.”

  I stared at him.

  “A what?”

  “A firm stone. Unmoving. Stoic.”

  He stepped in front of me and instructed:

  “Feet grounded. Knees slightly bent. Arms extended.”

  I took the stance. It was ridiculously easy. I gave him a smug smile.

  “Like this?”

  “Like that. Now remain that way for a while.”

  The first few minutes were almost insulting. But soon my arms began to burn. Five minutes later, the fire turned into weight.

  Ten minutes in, my shoulders felt like they were coming apart.

  “How much longer?” I asked through clenched teeth.

  “As long as necessary.”

  “That’s not an answer!”

  “It is for the earth.”

  I gritted my teeth and tried to distract myself. I thought about the mysteries of the bazaar. About Zenhaff mocking me. About how impressive it would sound to tell her I was training under an ancient, mystical master.

  But there was nothing epic about this training.

  Only sweat. Pain. And a terrible physical exhaustion.

  “This is absurd…” I muttered.

  “That is what everyone believes at first,” Eldreich replied. “And yet the earth remains beneath their feet.”

  I was about to drop my arms and give up when something unexpected happened. I stopped fighting the pain — and it stopped being my enemy.

  My breathing slowed. Deepened. Calmed.

  For a brief instant, the burning in my muscles paused… and faded.

  That was when I felt it.

  The ground beneath my feet trembled. Something almost imperceptible — like a deep heartbeat rising from the soles of my feet up through my legs.

  “You feel it,” Eldreich said.

  It wasn’t a question.

  “I’m not… sure…”

  And then my arms gave out.

  They dropped violently, and a second later my knees hit the ground. The air left my lungs.

  Eldreich leaned over me.

  “For a few moments, you were firmer than your impatience,” he said calmly. “That is a beginning.”

  I lay on my back, staring at the floating rocks above.

  “A painful beginning.”

  “Trees break before they learn to grow straight.”

  He straightened.

  “Rest. Tomorrow will be more intense.”

  More intense?!

  I wanted to protest. To say something. To demand some measure of mercy.

  But exhaustion crushed me before I could form a single word.

  The garden blurred and drifted away. The last thing I felt was the ground beneath my back — firm, present, indifferent to my defeat.

  The next thing I saw was the ceiling of my room.

  And Zenhaff leaning over me, looking concerned.

  I tried to speak, but I couldn’t. Sleep fell over me like a slab of stone.

  But before the darkness fully claimed me, I remembered something Eldreich had not said: A stone does not compete with the wind. It does not argue with the rain. It does not try to bloom.

  It simply is.

  And while the world changes around it, it remains simply present.