He hit the dirt again, Wolf had lost count of how many times in a row this was.

“Pathetic.” laughed Shen.

Wolf wasn’t even training with that troll’s anus. He was training with Bruce. Bruce was quick as a whip, tan skin and black hair. He looked weak, yet Wolf hadn’t been able to land a single blow. Bruce had no intention of embarrassing him, but Master Xian had placed him with a partner that took sparring very seriously.

Bruce shook his head. “Wolf, how many times must we go through this. Swing with your whole body, and you announce every move like a lumbering oaf.” Bruce looked at Wolf with disgust. “You are not a wild animal. Master Xian has asked me to teach you the basics. So far, even that seems to be a challenge.”

Wolf flushed. He had burst onto the training ground in excitement, ran to Master Xian, and demanded to be allowed to fight. Xian had looked him over for a long moment before giving a nod and placing him with Bruce.

Xian had told Bruce to take it easy on him and show Wolf the basics. Wolf nearly scoffed. He would need to take it easy on Bruce! Wolf had laughed to himself as he prepared to show this student real power. It turned out though, Wolf was very wrong.

Shen had the need to butt in, as always. “Wolf, hah! Even a dog has more sense.”

Wolf felt his patience snap. He came in here to show them the strength of a boy that survives the wilds, instead he was being repeatedly embarrassed. This time he didn’t charge Shen, he had already learned that lesson.

He moved in quickly, a cross for Shen’s chin, but Shen twisted and the punch sailed past. Unfortunately, Wolf was not as quick and took the jab to his center, causing him to stumble back. Shen didn’t stop. A kick to Wolf’s right thigh throbbed with pain he didn’t expect. He managed to block the coming left hook, but then Wolf was sent stumbling back again, this time from an uppercut.

Wolf saw a glimpse of Master Xian from the corner of his eye. Xian was just watching. Everyone was watching as Shen pummeled him. Even Wolf knew he wasn’t putting up a good fight. How dare these creatures think less of him, Wolf was at the top of the food chain! Another kick on his right thigh, but this time he felt nothing. Wolf pushed forward and swung wide. He could feel the power building in each punch.

Shen easily dodged to the side, and struck back like an adder with a cross, right to Wolf’s jaw. The boy was stunned as Wolf just smiled at the blow, and punched at the surprised boy’s face. Wolf felt like the power in this swing was going to take the boy’s head from his shoulders.

Next thing he knew, Wolf’s fist was twisted up and pinned behind him. Once again, Wolf came to find himself face down in the dirt.

“Enough!” Wolf heard a shout, but wasn’t sure where it came from. He tried to struggle, but his arm was pressed up high in his back, eliciting pain even through his rage-fueled mind.

“Class is over for the day. Everyone may use the last thirty minutes as extra free-time. Dismissed.” It was about then, his anger fading, that Wolf realized Master Xian was in fact the one pinning him to the ground.

When Master Xian finally stood up, Wolf just laid there for a moment. He was annoyed at himself for losing his cool yet again, but a small part of him missed the power that washed over him when his anger was in charge.

Wolf hadn’t landed any of the attacks earlier, so he wasn’t sure if that power was real or imagined. “Get up and follow me,” Master Shen looked annoyed. “Again.”

Wolf rolled to his feet. As they walked, Wolf pleaded, “I’m sorry Master Xian. Shen was-”

“Silence.” Xian cut him off abruptly. “You cannot control yourself because you are a furnace of rage. If you wish to ever become a true student in combat class, you will no longer be allowed four free-time hours like the others.”

They were walking toward the end of the monastery complex, but Wolf hadn’t been down this way before. “You will spend one hour every morning in meditation.”

Wolf tried to respond. “But-”

Xian waved his hand, silencing him. “I care not if you can find your qi, but you will at the very least, meditate on your rage. A fighter may allow his anger to control him, but a warrior control’s his anger.” As he finished talking, they arrived at the edge of the complex. Wolf realized that this was the smithy. A sharp memory tugged at the corner of his mind, but he was too slow to grasp it.

A stout dwarf was sharpening the edge of a large plow blade. The dwarf was only a hand shorter than the boy. He had salt and peppered bushy sideburns and a long, braided beard tucked away in his belt. As they approached, the dwarf stopped and looked up.

“Master Xian!” The dwarf spoke with a small downward tilt of his knobby nose, and a thick brogue accent.

“Master Dunrock.” Xian replied. “I have brought you a new assistant.” Xian gave Wolf a small nudge forward. He continued, “You will have him for two and a half hours each day, after combat class.”

The dwarf looked over Wolf like a man looked over a stray dog. “He’s a little young, no?” The dwarf stepped up to Wolf and pinched the boy’s bicep. “Some muscle, at least. But does he have stamina?” The dwarf asked.

Xian scoffed. “If only he had as much sense as he does stamina.”

The dwarf chuckled. “Alright, I’ll see about molding him into a right and proper tool.”

Xian simply nodded. “See that you do.” He then turned and walked away.

Wolf attempted to split his glower between both of the masters’ backs, but neither seemed to notice or care. Dunrock turned and waved toward Wolf to follow him. Wolf grunted in reply and knew there was no choice but to acquiesce.

Wolf walked with the dwarf until they reached a large trunk in the back of the building. “We’ll get you fitted and see what you’re made of.” Dunrock began pulling thick pieces of leather out of the trunk, which Wolf now saw were a thick apron and gloves.

The dwarf finally spoke. “Now boy, if you expect to be my assistant, you will be working a full day on Synday. There will be no lazing about like those other boys.”

Wolf wanted to protest. Having an entire day free was a great stress relief. He was certain now. Being assigned to this old gruff dwarf was punishment. As always, with one’s punishment, agreement was rarely relevant.

“Alright boy, let’s see how ye do on the bellows.” Dunrock said. “I’ve got some casting I need to do.”

Wolf rolled his shoulder and grit his teeth. There was no doubt he had a long two hours ahead of him. Dunrock showed him the bellows and walked him through the duties. Suddenly the dwarf locked eyes with Wolf, and gave an evil smile. “Well,” he shouted. “Let’s get to it then!”

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Dunrock had a struggle raging within him. He didn’t want to accept it, but he had to admit, the boy was impressive. The old dwarf wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. Unlike most other masters, he was only a mortal body cultivator. Even some of the students were further along the path of ascendence than the dwarf.

The title of master came from his mastery of his craft, and seldomly was the one-hundred-thirty cycles old dwarf surprised. “What are ye, half ogre?” the dwarf grumbled.

They had stopped for a short break and the boy had quickly run to the water barrel. Dunrock didn’t let the boy’s lack of sweat go unnoticed. This odd man-child had done well, very well. For the final hour, he had expected the boy to collapse at any moment, but Wolf had pushed on, baring his teeth like an animal.

Everyone had heard the rumors of Father Borus and the feral boy. It was quite another thing to see the boy in the flesh. Without even having activated his qi yet, the feral boy had the endurance and strength of nearly anyone at the mortal body cultivation stage. Dunrock being an exception, his race gave him the advantages of strength and endurance naturally.

The boy however, was human. Something strange was happening.

“Alright, alright. Stop bathing yourself in my water barrel, boy.” The dwarf sounded slightly annoyed.

Wolf was clearly exhausted as his chest heaved for air, like the bellows he had been fighting the past two hours. Dunrock stepped in toward the boy and looked him over again, much closer this time. Wolf was half expecting he would be told to open his mouth for a tooth inspection.

“Tell me true, are ye part dwarf?” The master smith asked.

Wolf chuckled for a moment before realizing the dwarf was dead serious. “I-I don’t think so.” Wolf finally sputtered. While he could remember very basic things, for whatever reason his memories weren’t all there. Where did he come from, he wondered briefly to himself?

“Hrmph...” The dwarf nodded and turned away. “Yer finished for now, boy.” The dwarf walked over and stoked the forge’s coals. Before Wolf turned to leave, the dwarf began to speak. “I expect ye tomorrow right after yer done play fighting in the yard.”

“We don’t pl-”

“Off with ye.” The dwarf half-shouted.

Wolf stood for a moment before he nodded and left, arms hanging limp as a Karnak after mating season. The dwarf looked over his shoulder at the boy as he walked away, deciding it was time to visit the headmaster and find out what that old stone was playing at.

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Another day, another beating. Things were at least starting to look up. Every day, he knew he was getting stronger.

A sharp slapping sound rang out, as Wolf’s left wrist blocked a snap-kick. He grunted in pain.

The passing time had become a blur. Wake. Eat. Four hours of chores. Eat. Three hours of study. Four hours of martial arts. Eat. Two hours at the forge. An hour of free-time.

Wolf dodged a jab and replied to it with an uppercut. Bruce blocked and quickly headbutted Wolf, barely missing Wolf’s nose as blood splattered from his lip. Most of the other students had three hours of free-time after training. Only the apprentices had private tutoring.

More often than not, Wolf stayed at the forge with his “free-time”. He didn’t get along with most of the other students, with the younger ones actively disliking him. The older students pretended he was an anomaly in their midst.

Wolf was taken in by the feint, realizing it a moment too late. It was no surprise when the kick went under his high guard and smashed the air out from his lungs. Wolf stumbled back as he tried to focus.

“You think you are good enough to lose focus on our fight?” Bruce’s voice rang, snapping Wolf back to their sparring. Bruce’s fist crashed into him, blowing through Wolf’s unstable block. There was a flash of pain. Another kick to his side caused Wolf to wince.

“Master insists I help you catch up with everyone. But what does that do for me? I get nothing.” Another powerful blow came, but this time Wolf managed to twist and take it in the shoulder. At this point, he was going to be more bruise than boy.

“I gain nothing from weaker opponents. Nothing from slapping around this untrained trash.” Bruce spat, as he moved in with a left hook.

Like the sound an over-fermented mead makes when the top comes off, everything Wolf had been holding inside came through for but an instant. It was as if time had stopped. Wolf’s fist was already connecting with Bruce’s jaw, though Bruce was hardly phased, he hadn’t expected Wolf to land a strike. Especially so suddenly.

A small smile crept along Wolf’s mouth. It was a small victory.

“You...” Bruce sputtered. ”You...” Bruce’s face turned from annoyance, to indignation, to rage. “You’ll regret that!”

The beating that followed was as precise and calculated as everything Bruce did. It wouldn’t leave Wolf unable to train, but every strike felt like maximum pain. Wolf was sure he would be deeply bruised, but through it all, the victorious smile never left his face.

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As Dagon sat at an empty table with his overly large food pile, he gave a single grunt before digging in with his hands. He didn’t even look up when the inevitable clatter of a plate hit the table across from him.

“Ah. Wolf. Looking feral as ever. How’s the smithing?”

Wolf stopped shoveling the food into his mouth and just stared at the boy, never halting his chewing. The boy was average height, or so he guessed from the boy’s seated position. Dark skinned with a bald head and square jaw.

This new unwanted dinner guest had a strange twinkle in his eyes, as he donned a smile and daintily ate his food. Well, in all fairness, everyone looked dainty to Wolf. Bastian had been sitting across from Wolf every meal for the entire week.

He had attempted talking with Wolf only to be rebuffed by silence, but the boy never gave up on making conversation. It was annoying. “Yes, I’m sure working with that grumpy old dwarf must be wonderful for a talker such as yourself.”

Bastian took another bite as he looked up to the sky. “Yep. I bet you two get along like peas and carrots. Swords and shields! Or like sailors and swearing. Quite the pair, the two of you.”

Wolf knew this must have been his attempt at humor, but Wolf didn’t get it.

Bastian leaned in conspiratorially. “Did you see? Shen got beat down in his apprentice trail. It was glorious.”

Wolf found himself nodding. That had been a joy to watch. Shen was at mortal cultivation rank seven. In theory, you could become an apprentice at any rank. Ranking was after all, about skill, not strength. Most waited until peak mortal, or early earth realm cultivation, before moving up to apprentice.

“He hopes that Xian himself will take him in as an apprentice.” Bastion said.

Wolf scoffed. They both began to chuckle but quickly stopped as Bastion roared, “You do speak!”

A few of the others that had quietly entered the dining hall, turned to look at the boys’ loud outburst. Wolf blushed and ducked his head down back into his food.

“Ha. Well, it’s too late now. It’s good to know every man is a brother in the hatred of Shen.” Wolf choked back a laugh, causing him to actually choke. As he coughed up a chunk of potato back onto his plate, Bastion’s face turned serious. “So, is it true you don’t cultivate?”

Wolf frowned and looked away. He had been here a month now, but was still mortal rank zero in cultivation. He still hadn’t been able to find his qi.

“I only ask because I’ve seen you fight with Bruce, and he’s rank four.”

Wolf grunted. His training with Bruce had been going fairly well. While the boy was one of Shen’s toadies, when it came to training martial arts, Bruce was an adroit professional. Wolf was hesitant to get into much detail as he was unsure of what was going on with his body. “I don’t know what to tell you. I come from a strong family?”

Bastian stared at him for a moment before breaking out into a laugh. “I like you Wolf. You’ve even got a sense of humor.” Bastian mimed wiping a tear from his eye. “Strong family,” he chuckled.

“Kid, you’re not tiny. Someone barely a teenager should not be able to take hits from Bruce. Especially every damn day. Your entire body should be splattered with black and blue. Yet, every day you return for more, ready to train.”

Wolf let a growl slip in reply. Bastian flinched and held his hands up. “Look, I’m not trying to insult you. I’m just saying.” Wolf narrowed his eyes as Bastain continued. “Level four isn’t that high anyway. Have the journeymen gone over the levels with you?”

Wolf nodded. “Briefly.”

“Well then. A peak mortal cultivator is at the peak of what a normal human is capable of. Be it lifting a five-hundred-pound stone, running a league in a quarter of an hourglass, and so on.

Wolf nodded at him and replied, “That’s what I’d been told before.”

Bastian looked baffled and threw his hands up. “That means someone your age is taking combat lessons with a student at half-peak, yet you have no cultivation!” Bastian said excitedly, but then gave a deep sigh. “Anyone can become stronger naturally, sure. But cultivating enforces your whole body, takes it to another level. Elevating your strength, speed, endurance, reaction times, and of course more than that.”

“How rare it is that someone be capable of lifting the heaviest of objects, while running crazy fast!” Bastian was getting louder again. “That is why cultivation is so important, so powerful. It isn’t a singular boost but an overall increase.”

Wolf let slide the boy’s rising voice. What could he be upset about? Bastian was making a lot of sense. The boy was making more sense to Wolf than the previous rundown he had been given. Wolf really thought upon this.

His memories were still hazy, even from recent days, but thinking about what he saw on the training grounds, it started to become clear. There were plenty of large men moving far too fast for their size. Not to mention there were some no larger than Wolf, but they struck like falling oaks.

It was right in front of him, but he hadn’t paid enough attention to it. This was the power he hadn’t been realizing, the exact power he was craving. Like a smudged pair of glasses finally coming clean.

“What are you doing?” Inquired Bastion, as Wolf stood up.

Grabbing rolls and one of the larger turkey legs, Wolf made his way toward the forge. There wasn’t much time left before he would be running the bellows and helping Master Dunrock, but with the time he did have, he was going to spend it trying to find his qi.

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“What are ye, constipated?” Came the gruff voice of the dwarven master smith.

Wolf grumbled. He felt if his hands had something to throw, he would have already done it. But the boy was in the lotus position, just a bit outside the forge, so there was nothing near enough to toss.

“I don’t have qi! No matter how hard I try. There is no ocean, no river, no pond... nothing is inside me.” Wolf threw up his hands, frustration plastered on his face. “Not even a puddle!” The boy spat.

Dunrock gave him an understanding nod. “I get yer frustration laddie, but be that as it may, the goddess blessed you with the natural strength and endurance of a dwarf. You can still succeed.” The dwarf moved under the forge awning. “Now get yer arse in gear, we have work to do.”

Wolf reluctantly followed as the fatherly dwarf began to speak. “We’ve been doing a lot of reforging and repairing for the past few weeks. From today on, we will begin casting ingots.” The dwarf pulled cubes of some metal out of a box located in the corner.

“Get them bellows going. The coals need to be hotter than Avena for this.” Wolf did as he was told, ignoring the blasphemous dwarf.

Avena, the goddess of war and crafting, was said to be inhumanly beautiful. Wolf’s shoulders would be getting a workout today.

“One of the youngins cracked one of our spades right in half. Fools sometimes forget their own strength. When that spade is repaired,” The dwarf then pointed to an empty mold. “We will make a fresh one so you see the process start to finish.”

Wolf appreciated that Dunrock always took the time to walk through what he was doing. Doing this work was starting to grow on Wolf. Not being an apprentice meant there wouldn’t be any actual smithing. There was hope that he could become more than just a lackey to the old dwarf.

“Once the metal is hot enough, it softens and becomes pliable.” The dwarf had set the metal in a flat pentagonal mold. Wolf had wondered about the process, but had never seen it. He stood mystified as the chunk of heavy metal turned red.

There was a sudden itch in the back of his mind.

“Aye, that look in yer eye. That’s the look of a man who just found his first love!” Dunrock burst out into a chuckle. “I had the same look when I was a wee baby dwarf.”

Wolf’s mind was instantly brought to the image of a baby... with a beard and bulbous nose. His mind snapped back instantly to the itch he wasn’t sure how to scratch. He couldn’t figure out what his brain was trying to tell him.

“Now we wait until it’s molten. As metal softens...” The dwarf paused for dramatic effect. His hammer raised to strike the yellow-hot metal. As a dwarf, he couldn’t resist. “Ahh, nothing more satisfying than-”

Before the dwarf had moved the hammer at all, Wolf had bolted from the forge, the bellows coming to a stop. “Hey! Where are you going ye damned fool!” Dunrock roared out toward the boy.

Wolf didn’t even pause as he rushed along. Going straight to the zen garden, he nearly threw himself into the lotus position. Not a single care was paid to all the glares from those meditating nearby. He was quite used to falling into himself in meditation, there just had never been anything at his center.

Nothing but that stupid rock. But what if it wasn’t a rock after all, instead, what if it was an ingot?