Ale's journey: The rise of an adventurer

Ale woke gently, the strange sensation of his dream still lingering in his mind. He felt different, as though an inexhaustible power coursed through his body, vibrating through his veins. The exhaustion he had felt before falling asleep had vanished, replaced by a new and uncontrollable energy.

The dream had been so vivid that he nearly forgot where he was. As he opened his eyes, he saw a figure before him, barely visible in the dim light of the sanctuary. It was a humanoid shape, but made of black smoke, outlined by a faint white glow. Ale jumped, almost ready to cast a spell out of reflex.

Before he could react further, the figure spoke in a familiar voice.

"It's me," it said calmly. "My body is still bound by the magical seals. I've crafted this appearance from my spirit, in human form. It will be easier for training."

Ale, still in shock, stared at the strange form, which had no face, no mouth, no eyes.

"You're… scary. You don't even have a face!" he muttered, uncomfortable.

The silhouette remained silent for a moment before the phoenix's voice returned, slightly amused.

"Is this better?" it asked.

As it spoke, the form shifted slightly, and glowing white eyes appeared, followed by a nose and a mouth. Although the form still seemed strange, it now appeared more "human."

Ale watched for a moment before shrugging. "It'll… take some getting used to," he said, still a bit uneasy but slightly reassured. The idea of the phoenix taking this shape unsettled him, but he knew he'd have to adjust to this new reality.

Nyxion's voice echoed softly through the space, his tone calm yet purposeful.

"Do you have much combat experience, Ale?" he asked.

Ale, still recovering from the recent ordeals, responded honestly.

"I haven't really fought until these past few days. My grandfather taught me the basics of martial arts and magic, but it was more for defense than for actual fighting."

Nyxion nodded thoughtfully.

"Very well. We'll start by training you to defend yourself better."

With a snap of his fingers, Nyxion summoned a glowing magic circle beneath their feet, expanding to about twenty meters in diameter. The glow illuminated the dark floor of the sanctuary with an intense light.

"That should be enough," Nyxion murmured to himself, then addressed Ale more loudly.

"Stand in the circle, and do your best to defend yourself. Use only magic."

Ale nodded, feeling a bit nervous.

"With what?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Nyxion smiled faintly, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"With magic, of course. But don't try to escape beyond the circle, or we'll have to start over."

Ale positioned himself in the circle, casting a wary glance at Nyxion's humanoid figure, whose dark flames flickered gently. Nyxion moved to the opposite side, his flaming silhouette watching with calm focus.

"Ready?" Nyxion asked.

"Uh… yeah," Ale began, but before he could finish, an onslaught of spells surged toward him. Fireballs, crackling lightning bolts, arrows of stone, and streams of water shot at him like serpents attacking their prey.

Caught off guard, Ale tried to react, but he wasn't prepared for the barrage of spells. Panicking, he did the only thing that came to mind: he rolled to the ground, instinctively trying to escape the circle. But as soon as he touched the magical boundary, a bolt of shadow lightning erupted from the ground and pierced his body. The searing pain that followed left him paralyzed momentarily.

Ale collapsed, breathless from the agony. Without the regenerative strength of the pact with Nyxion, the shock might have killed him.

Nyxion, remaining calm, stepped forward slightly.

"Again," he said firmly. "Running isn't a solution, especially not with an enemy at your back."

Ale, his muscles still tight from the pain, tried to push himself up.

"But… how am I supposed to defend myself?" he asked, struggling with each word.

Strangely, despite the intense pain, Ale felt his body rapidly healing. He hadn't needed to cast a healing spell or drink a potion. The regeneration came from the phoenix's power, tied to him through the pact. A new strength flowed within him, but he still had to learn how to control it.

Nyxion, watching Ale's efforts to rise, spoke calmly.

"Use what you have within you. Your magic, your instincts. Don't just flee. Be both the shield and the sword. Observe, and act."

Breathing steadily, Ale finally stood upright. He positioned himself in the center of the circle again, determined not to run this time.

As soon as Ale got back into position, another wave of spells surged from Nyxion's hands, rushing toward him like an overwhelming tide. Nyxion's voice echoed through the air:

"Be the shield…"

Ale's mind raced. He remembered the phoenix's advice. In a split second, he summoned earth magic. A stone wall erupted from the ground just in front of him, blocking several of the incoming attacks. Fireballs and lightning crashed against the barrier, scattering into sparks.

"Well done. You learn quickly," Nyxion complimented, intensifying his attacks.

This time, the spells didn't just come from the front. They surrounded Ale, bombarding him from all directions. Caught off guard, Ale struggled to summon enough shields to protect himself from every angle. Some spells broke through his defenses, striking him hard, leaving burns and bursts of pain.

"You must be faster!" Nyxion commanded, his tone relentless. "Summon your spells with more precision and choose your shields wisely based on the attack."

Ale, panting, muttered through clenched teeth,

"Easy for you to say…"

But determined not to flee, he immediately stood up, ready for the next onslaught. The drills continued relentlessly. Ale began to summon different kinds of magical shields, adapting his defenses to each situation.

*A fire shield to evaporate water spells.

*A wall of water to douse the fireballs rushing at him.

*A wind barrier to disperse the dense shadows trying to suffocate him.

Hours turned into days, and time seemed to lose meaning in the sanctuary where training became ritual. Nyxion continued attacking without pause, testing every facet of Ale's abilities. Day by day, Ale grew faster, more precise, and more confident in his skills.

He eventually succeeded in deflecting all of Nyxion's ranged spells, anticipating each attack and summoning the perfect shield for every situation. Defense had become a fluid dance for him, his movements instinctive. The blows no longer reached him.

Nyxion's eyes gleamed with a hint of challenge.

"Well, you've learned to defend against magic. Now, we'll test you in close combat," he declared.

Without warning, he conjured an ethereal sword with a sharp gesture and tossed it to Ale. Ale caught it mid-air, bewildered.

"Where did this come from?" he asked, startled by the sudden appearance of the weapon.

Nyxion, calm as ever, shrugged slightly.

"Spatial magic," he said matter-of-factly.

In a smooth motion, Nyxion drew a matching sword for himself. His gaze fixed on Ale, and he simply asked,

"Ready?"

Ale gripped the sword tightly, still feeling unprepared but determined.

"Let's go."

Nyxion smirked faintly, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint. In a flash, he lunged at Ale with the speed of lightning. The impact was fierce, but Ale managed to lift his sword just in time to block the attack. However, it was merely a diversion.

In the same fluid motion, Nyxion's free hand ignited with fire magic, sending a wave of flames crashing into Ale. The burning sensation was instant, searing Ale's skin to the bone as the spell hit.

Nyxion stepped back, watching as Ale struggled to rise from the blow.

"Your focus is too fixed on my sword," he instructed sternly. "You need to observe all of your opponent's movements."

Ale, breathing heavily, responded in frustration,

"You're too fast! I can't see anything when you get close!"

Nyxion, lips curling into a sly smile, replied calmly,

"Then become faster."

The message was clear—they were starting again. Nyxion prepared for another strike. This time, Ale was ready. Nyxion's sword flew toward him, but Ale managed to block it with better balance. However, Nyxion repeated his trick, casting magic alongside the physical attack. Remembering the earlier lesson, Ale summoned a rock shield just in time to block the magical explosion.

"That's better," Nyxion acknowledged, but before Ale could feel any sense of accomplishment, a swift kick from Nyxion swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground.

Ale winced in both pain and frustration.

"Again," Nyxion ordered calmly.

This time, Ale readied himself with greater focus. He blocked Nyxion's sword strike, then raised another stone shield to defend against the magic that followed. However, Nyxion, always moving, leaped into the air and delivered a powerful kick to Ale's head, knocking him backward.

Standing above him, Nyxion remained relentless.

"Follow the rhythm. Don't rely on expectations."

Dazed from the hit but resolute in his determination, Ale pushed himself back to his feet, his body slowly healing thanks to the power of their pact. Gripping his sword again, he prepared for another round.

Time seemed to dissolve in the heavy atmosphere of the sanctuary. Day after day, Ale trained, fighting Nyxion over and over, until he lost all sense of time. The sanctuary, sealed in a bubble of darkness, allowed neither light nor time to penetrate. Here, only the training mattered—an endless struggle for survival and improvement.

The days, if they could still be called that, passed in an unending cycle. Ale gradually perfected his techniques. His swordsmanship sharpened, his reflexes became keener, and he learned to anticipate every move, every feint from Nyxion. The pain from the blows, the repeated failures—it all became a painful routine, but one he knew was necessary.

One day, as Ale blocked yet another of Nyxion's attacks, something unexpected happened. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Ale heard words of praise:

"Well done, you've passed the exercise."

Ale stood up, stunned. It had been so long since he had received any acknowledgment that he was momentarily frozen. His entire body was exhausted, but a glimmer of satisfaction appeared in his eyes.

Nyxion, however, wasn't finished.

"Now we move to the next stage. Try to defeat me, and after that, you will be free."

The words struck Ale like a hammer. Free? It seemed impossible. He shook his head in disbelief.

"Beat you? That's impossible... you're a god..."

Nyxion smiled faintly, his dark eyes gleaming with a mysterious light.

"A god may be immortal, but not invincible."

Without another word, Nyxion murmured an incantation. From the ground, shadowy spheres rose at his feet, forming into ten human-like figures identical to Nyxion. The clones stood around Ale, forming a menacing circle.

Ale, astonished, muttered under his breath,

"That's not fair…"

Nyxion's voice was calm but firm as he replied,

"Combat is never fair. Learn that and surpass your limits."

No sooner had he finished speaking than he and his clones launched their attack. All ten Nyxions, perfectly synchronized, unleashed both physical and magical assaults, forcing Ale to defend from every direction. The ultimate challenge had begun, and he knew there was no room for error.

Ale was living through a nightmare. Every day, he faced endless battles against Nyxion and his clones, an unrelenting fight that left him no respite. Frustration, despair, and mental exhaustion began to consume him. Each confrontation ended in failure; he couldn't even manage to harm a single one of his eleven opponents. His confidence crumbled, and the idea of defeating Nyxion seemed unattainable, a distant dream he dared not think about. Beating them all felt impossible.

Yet, unbeknownst to Ale, small changes were happening daily. To Nyxion, his pupil's progression was clear. Each day, Ale improved—he became more agile, his mastery over his spells sharpened, and his mind learned to think quicker, to react smarter. His mistakes diminished, and his movements became more fluid.

Time passed, but these small improvements accumulated without Ale realizing it immediately. One day, he managed to wound one of Nyxion's clones. Then it was two. Then three. Each small victory reignited his determination and rekindled the flame of his confidence.

Finally, after what felt like weeks—perhaps months—of grueling combat, Ale found himself standing alone against Nyxion. All the clones had fallen. Ale gripped his sword, his breath heavy, but his eyes filled with resolve. The final battle had been as intense as all the others, but this time, he had overcome every challenge.

Then, unexpectedly, Ale succeeded in disarming Nyxion, forcing him to the ground. His sword hovered just a centimeter from the powerful phoenix's throat. Gasping for breath, Ale stared at the almost unreal scene before him, while Nyxion met his gaze with a glint of admiration in his eyes.

For a moment, silence hung in the air before Nyxion calmly, and with a certain gravity, uttered:

"You have won."

The words resonated like a release for Ale.