Within the shadowed valleys of the sect, days passed like drifting clouds. Time moved forward unnoticed, swallowed by a cycle of blood, sweat, and quiet determination.
Eren's name began to circulate among the outer disciples—not loudly, not with praise—but in hushed whispers behind stone walls.
They said he was quiet, too quiet. That he never smiled, and that his blue eyes saw right through you. That wherever he went, he walked away with what he came for… and someone else limped away or never returned.
---
Inside a Trial Ground…
A silver blade slashed through the mist. Sparks flew as steel clashed, the metallic ring echoing off the cave walls.
A muscular disciple grunted, swinging his broadsword down toward Eren's shoulder.
"You won't take that flame crystal, brat!"
Eren narrowed his eyes. The swing came heavy but slow.
With a side step, Eren vanished from sight.
He appeared behind the man with a palm raised, water vapor swirling at his fingertips.
"Aqua Fist."
The punch struck the man's lower back. A thud, a choked breath, and he collapsed.
Eren exhaled slowly and reached for the glowing red crystal embedded in the stone.
Three others had watched from afar—but none moved. They turned and walked away, pretending they were never there.
---
In His Cave…
Inside his dark stone cave, Eren sat cross-legged near a glowing lantern. His breathing was calm, deep.
From the corner, soul herbs hung drying—fragments of battles past, rewards earned with blood. Scattered beside him were a few beast cores, spirit moss, and a dull silver robe stained at the hem.
Water droplets floated in the air around him, shimmering like tiny orbs, rotating slowly.
As he focused, those droplets compressed and merged into a swirling stream, forming a water serpent that danced across his arms.
Splash.
The water fell back into the basin. Eren opened his eyes, sweat trailing down his temple.
"The control is smoother now," he whispered.
Though he had no teacher, he learned through battle. Though he lacked praise, he earned strength through pain.
Each scar on his clone's body was a step forward—each bruise, a reminder that weakness was not tolerated in this place.
---
One Night – Another Fight…
In a narrow alley near the pill hall, Eren faced two men.
One held a double blade, the other cast earth spikes from the ground.
"You've got some nerve showing your face here again!"
Eren's robe was torn at the shoulder, his left arm bleeding slightly. But he didn't back away.
His eyes locked onto them—calm, unwavering.
Suddenly, his body flickered forward—Lightning Step. Not real lightning, but fast enough to leave a blur.
He struck the earth user first—one clean palm to the neck.
Before the other could swing, a tendril of water snaked up from a puddle and wrapped around the man's ankle, pulling him to the ground.
Eren walked past their groaning forms without a word, his robe fluttering behind him.
---
Later…
On a rocky cliff overlooking the sect, Eren stood quietly, his sword stabbed into the ground beside him.
His breathing was slow, but his aura had deepened.
No fanfare. No announcement.
But his power had risen.
Once barely able to deflect a direct hit, now his clone body held its own against Soul Practitioner level sevens. Every battle honed him, every month sharpened his instincts.
The boy who had entered the sect silently was no longer just another outer disciple.
He stared at the mountain peaks beyond—the higher levels of the sect, where core disciples trained with better resources and larger ambitions.
He wasn't ready to challenge them.
Not yet.
But he was getting close.
---
In the Shadows…
Unseen by others, the real Eren remained hidden, his true self untouched, unknown.
While the clone bled, suffered, fought, and grew… the true storm waited in silence.
And when that storm arrived, it would not be quiet.
---