Nathan's POV
The next day, Geralt didn't waste time. We packed our things and began our journey.
I didn't even get to say goodbye to my mother—but my dad was there.
"You must stay strong, kid. I knew you were something," he said, tapping my shoulder, giving me assurance I didn't know I needed. That I could go all out in this training. That I shouldn't worry about them while I'm away.
Days and nights passed as we traveled—barefoot. No horses. No chariots. Just miles of silence and snow.
We headed far north, where cold shivers become blades of ice stabbing into your bones. The cold hit me like a fist to the chest.
Was it days? Weeks? I couldn't even track time anymore.
Finally, we stopped—high in the mountains, deep in a desert of frozen trees and endless white. The wind here was so strong I could barely breathe.
Not the kind of cold that bites your fingers.
No—this cold whispers: "You don't belong here."
Without rest— "Lose the shirt," Geralt said.
I looked at him and hesitated. "The fuck? Can't we just rest a bit?" Frustrated, the words slipped from my mouth.
His voice was ice.
"Lose it. Or go home."
I pulled it off. My breath already fogged in front of me. The mountain was quiet—snow-dusted and beautiful—but there was no comfort here.
Geralt stood a few meters away, arms crossed, a heavy cloak wrapped around him like he didn't even feel the cold.
He looked like a statue carved from winter.
"This place is called Wolf's Rest," he said. "It's where I broke my bones to learn what pain meant."
I didn't reply.
"Today, you break yours."
He tossed me a pair of weighted anklets—spirit-forged. Dense. Heavier than any metal I'd ever worn.
"You'll run until your legs give out. When they do, crawl."
I strapped them on. My fingers were numb, but I said nothing.
Geralt raised a hand, pointing at the narrow ridge spiraling up the mountain.
"That path. One way up. No turns. No stops."
I started running. The first few steps weren't bad.
Then the incline hit me. Every second felt like dragging chains through my soul.
Geralt's voice echoed in my mind:
You want to protect your friends? Then stop being weak. You want to stop losing people? Then earn the strength to stand alone.
Geralt's POV
He doesn't quit.
I've seen recruits throw up after five minutes with those weights. But Nathan?
Even with legs trembling, he kept going. Not for pride. Not for attention.
For pain. The right kind of pain.
The kind that changes people. When I first joined the Pro-Hunters, I thought strength came from rage.
But rage fades.
What remains is will— The spine to crawl when your limbs are broken.
Nathan's not there yet, But he's close.
Nathan's POV
Hours passed.
The sky turned deep blue, and I couldn't feel my legs anymore. Each step was a prayer.
Not to gods. To myself.
"One more step."
"Just one more."
My vision blurred. Breathing turned to noise. My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
And then—
I collapsed.
Face-first into the snow.
I wanted to stay there.
To sleep.
To stop pretending I could be strong like Luis. Like Mika. Like Geralt.
But then I heard his voice.
"You can't even last half a day. How are you supposed to face The Vikings like that?"
That name cut deeper than the wind. I dug my fingers into the snow.
Luis had risked everything, Mika had protected the kids. And me? I was still here. Shivering. Useless.
No.
I got back up. I didn't run. I crawled.
Each handful of snow burned like fire. But it was my fire. And I refused to let it go out.
Luis' POV
I sat by the cliff, arms folded, eyes locked on the forest below.
The kids were safe, but something felt… wrong.
The wind carried a strange sound—like hissing, slithering through the trees. I could still feel it from the pit. The snakes had fled from me.
But I didn't tell anyone what I saw down there.
Didn't tell them how they feared me.
Didn't tell them how I didn't fear them back.
Something in me had changed.
Something dark. I didn't know what it was. But I knew this— Something, or someone, is whispering in my ears.
Then—
My mind flooded with memories.
The day the vultures attacked our school. Blood. Screams. Dead bodies. Pain and suffering wrapped in chaos. The sound—deafening—forced itself into my head.
I clutched my ears, scrambled to the ground, begging—
"Please stop…" I shouted louder than I ever had before.
Not in pain— But to release the chaos.
Then—
*SLAP.* Pain seared across my cheek.
It brought me back to reality. Mika stood in front of me, tears in her eyes.
"What is going on?" she asked, terrified.
I was silent. What was that? I mumbled.
And I left her without saying a word.
Geralt's POV
Weeks passed.
When Nathan finally reached the summit, the sun was setting. His chest heaved. Face pale. Lips cracked.
But he stood.
Barefoot. Blood on his knees. Eyes defiant.
That was the look I'd been waiting for.
"Good," I said. "You made it. But that was just the warm-up."
He blinked.
"What?"
I pointed to the waterfall down the slope.
"Next: the spirit trial. Stand beneath it until your essence answers."
"What happens if it doesn't?"
"Then it means you're still too soft."
He didn't hesitate. That was new.
Nathan's POV
I lost track of how long I've been in this frozen hell. All I could think about was finishing this. Becoming stronger. The waterfall roared.
It struck my shoulders like a mountain collapsing.
The cold pierced everything—skin, muscle, mind.
I couldn't breathe. I thought I knew pain. I didn't.
There was no ground. No light. Just noise, cold, and nothing.
Then— Something stirred.
Breathing. But not mine.
I opened my eyes— And saw it.
A wolf.
Massive. Proud. Its coat shimmered like silver forged in shadow.
Eyes like cracked ice. It didn't speak.
But I understood. This was the test. It stepped forward, slow and silent.
I reached out. It lunged— Teeth bared at my throat.
I flinched— But stood my ground.
"Do it," I whispered.
"Bite."
If I fall, I fall facing it. The wolf paused.
Its eyes met mine— And it bowed.