The Author's Draft

Chapter 100 - 19: First Lessons I

The afternoon light filtering through Aiden’s window was wrong, tinted red from the lightning that still pulsed across the black sky outside. He sat on the edge of his bed—the only proper bed in the cramped flat—while his mother moved around the tiny kitchen area and Callum sprawled on the sofa they’d pulled out for sleeping.

They’d been back from the Hunter Association for a few hours now, the energy from Callum’s awakening ceremony still crackling in the air between them. His brother kept summoning and dismissing Number One every twenty minutes, fascinated by the blue afterimage that materialized into metal and hard light before vanishing again.

Aiden’s phone buzzed on the desk. He picked it up and read the message from Chairman Cross, sent just after they’d parted ways at the Association.

Equipment ready for collection. Fourth floor armory, ask for Requisitions. Available after 18:00 today. Bring measurements if you want gear for your brother.

Simple and professional. Aiden glanced at the time. Just past two in the afternoon. He had a few hours before he could collect the gear, which meant time to actually prepare Callum for what was coming.

[36:42:18... 36:42:17... 36:42:16...]

Thirty-six hours until the barriers collapsed.

His mother appeared from the kitchen area carrying three mugs of tea, her movements automatic despite the exhaustion written across her face. She’d been running on adrenaline since arriving at his flat with Callum, and it was starting to show.

"Here," she said, handing mugs to both her sons before settling into the desk chair with her own. "Drink. You both look half-dead."

Callum took the mug gratefully and wrapped both hands around it. "Thanks, Mum."

Aiden sipped his tea and watched his mother over the rim. She was holding together remarkably well considering the circumstances, but he could see the cracks forming. The way her hands trembled slightly when she thought no one was looking. The tightness around her eyes that spoke of worry she was trying to hide.

"What are you planning to do today?" she asked, looking at Aiden with that particular intensity only mothers could manage.

Aiden set down his mug. "Training. Callum needs to know how to defend himself, and we don’t have much time."

Her hands stilled on her tea. "Training," she repeated slowly. "You mean fighting?"

"I mean giving him a chance to survive." Aiden kept his voice level. "He’s got his summon, but that’s not enough. He needs to understand the basics. How to move, how to hold a weapon, how to stay alive when things go wrong."

"He’s eighteen, Aiden." Her voice cracked slightly. "He should be worrying about university, not learning how to fight in a war."

"I know." Aiden met her eyes steadily. "But in thirty-six hours he’ll be in the middle of an invasion whether we like it or not. I can’t change that. All I can do is make sure he’s got the skills to make it through."

His mother’s eyes filled with tears but she blinked them back and nodded once. "You’re right. I know you’re right."

Callum had been quiet during the exchange, but now he spoke up. "What kind of training?"

"Basic combat fundamentals," Aiden said. "How to sense spiritual energy, how to use a weapon properly, how to defend yourself without relying entirely on Number One."

"Can we even do that here?" Callum gestured at the cramped flat. "There’s barely room to stand."

Aiden considered the space. The flat was tiny, but the building had a small courtyard out back that most residents ignored. Not ideal, but it would work.

"Courtyard," Aiden decided. "It’s not much, but we’ll have enough room to move."

His mother looked like she wanted to argue about the cold or the danger or a dozen other maternal concerns, but she swallowed them all and simply nodded. "Both of you bundle up properly."

The courtyard behind the building was a sad excuse for outdoor space—cracked concrete, a rusted bike rack nobody used, and weeds pushing through every available gap. But it was empty and private, which was all Aiden needed.

The cold hit them immediately when they stepped outside, wind cutting through their jackets. The black sky overhead pulsed with red lightning at irregular intervals, casting everything in shifting shadows.

Callum hunched his shoulders. "This is mental."

"You’ll warm up." Aiden scanned the space. Maybe fifteen meters across, enough to work with. "First lesson. Do you know what cultivation is?"

Callum blinked. "Like growing plants?"

"Spiritual cultivation. The kind that lets people harness energy directly instead of relying on mana cores." Aiden moved to a spot near the wall. "That’s what I use. Understanding how it works might help you control your summons better."

He gestured at the air between them. "Everything has energy. Most people can’t sense it, but it’s there. Cultivation is learning to perceive that energy, draw it in, and use it to make yourself stronger."

"You think I can learn this?" Callum asked doubtfully.

"With practice. And it’ll help you understand what happens when you summon." Aiden sat on the cold concrete. "Sit. Get comfortable."

Callum sat across from him, wincing at the temperature.

"Close your eyes. Focus on your breathing. Not trying to change it, just aware of it." Aiden kept his voice level. "In through your nose, out through your mouth."

Callum closed his eyes and breathed, his shoulders tense.

"Relax. Just breathe naturally and pay attention."

They sat in silence for several minutes, wind howling around them and red lightning flickering overhead. Aiden monitored his brother while maintaining his own awareness of the spiritual energy in the air. Thin and scattered compared to the cultivation world, but present.

"While you’re breathing, extend your awareness outward," Aiden said quietly. "Like a sense you’ve never used. Feel for anything that moves or flows."

"I don’t feel anything," Callum said, frustration creeping in.

"That’s normal. Keep trying."

An hour passed. Callum shifted positions occasionally but didn’t give up. Aiden watched the countdown tick down, aware every minute spent here was one less before invasion, but this was necessary.

"Wait," Callum said suddenly. "I think there’s something. Feels like tingling. Or pressure."

"Don’t overthink it," Aiden said. "Just observe."

Callum’s face scrunched in concentration. "Like air moving, but not wind. It’s flowing."

"That’s exactly right. You’re sensing spiritual energy." Aiden felt satisfaction spike through him. "Follow the flow. See where it’s moving."

Minutes passed before Callum spoke again.

"It’s everywhere. In the air, the concrete..." He opened his eyes and looked at Aiden. "In you. Much stronger than everything else."

"That’s my cultivation base. The energy I’ve refined and stored." Aiden stood and offered his hand. "Now you can sense it. Which means we can move to weapons."

He pulled Callum to his feet and grabbed the broom handle he’d brought from his flat earlier. "This is a practice tool. First rule: never pick up anything you don’t know how to use. But we don’t have that luxury."

[34:05:18... 34:05:17... 34:05:16...]

Aiden moved into a basic stance, feet shoulder-width apart, the broom handle held loosely at waist height. "Copy this. Feet here, hands here, weight distributed evenly."

Callum tried to mirror him but looked immediately awkward, weight too far forward and grip too tight.

"Relax your hands." Aiden adjusted Callum’s posture manually, pushing his shoulder back, tapping his rear foot into better alignment. "You’re strangling it. Firm enough to control, loose enough to move."

Callum loosened his grip and the stance improved.

"Power comes from your whole body, not just your arms." Aiden demonstrated slowly, rotating hips and shoulders while keeping his arms relaxed. "See how it flows from the ground up through my legs, into my core, then out through my arms? That’s how you generate force without exhausting yourself."

Callum tried to copy the movement and nearly lost his balance.

"Again. Slower."

They drilled the basic movement for half an hour, Aiden correcting form over and over while Callum struggled to coordinate movements he’d never practiced before. Repetitive and frustrating, but Aiden could see incremental improvement.

"Why does this matter?" Callum asked during a break, both of them breathing hard. "I’ve got Number One."

"What happens when Number One goes down?" Aiden countered. "Or when you can’t summon? You need to defend yourself without relying entirely on abilities. That’s what separates hunters who survive from hunters who don’t."

Callum absorbed that in silence, then nodded and took his stance again without prompting.

They worked through the afternoon, moving from swings to footwork to simple defensive positions. Aiden taught how to pivot for power, how to keep guard up without telegraphing intentions, how to move feet to maintain balance during strikes.

[31:42:09... 31:42:08... 31:42:07...]

"Last drill," Aiden said, muscles aching. "I’m going to attack slowly with an overhead strike. You move your feet to the side and deflect, just like we practiced. Don’t block my full power, redirect it."

Callum raised his practice weapon into guard position.

Aiden attacked slowly and deliberately, giving Callum time to react. His brother stepped left and brought his weapon up at an angle, deflecting the strike past his shoulder.

"Good. Again."