Rivers of the Night

Theron awoke shivering, his body feeling as though it had gone from hell and back. He felt weak in ways he hadn't felt since his first nights in the assassination guild's trials, and this time he had no body but his own to keep him warm.

He should have found himself something strong, something powerful, something capable of helping him to reach another level. But every time he entered that space, it felt like he was being punished far more than he was gaining.

Coughing, Theron tried to stand, only to find that his body hardly had the power to do that. It wasn't that he was too weak to even lift up his own body weight, but instead that the inner armor was really becoming his own personal hell on earth.

It was already holding him back before; now the situation felt even worse than that.

Theron took a breath and exhaled, wondering what he had gotten himself into. The slab should have been the gateway to the secrets he had been looking for—the answers he had sought all this time. Instead, he found himself here.

Was this his first setback?

It almost felt like a silly thought, especially since this entire journey started with the one setback he wanted to forget with all of his being, yet couldn't no matter what.

But if he ignored that and only considered everything else… his path of cultivation had been as smooth as ice from start to finish. He couldn't remember ever struggling to do something.

Yet, he was finding himself being wrong not just once, but twice over with this slab. Both attempts had almost killed him, and now he was almost hesitant to enter a third time.

Hesitant, maybe. Would it stop him? Not in the slightest.

Broken and beaten, his life feeling as though it was hanging on by a string, Theron realized that he had truly painted himself into a corner right now.

He was stuck in enemy territory and he couldn't even lift a finger to do battle. If he was going to, he would have to lower the weight of the inner armor, and doing that would expose him to the Seijin Young Master that had slaughtered his family and village.

There was only one way out of this. And that was for the slab to finally give him something in return instead of just taking.

He felt like a man watching his life savings drown in the middle of a gambling den, the hounds circling him, waiting for him to give up the last few scraps he had left.

But he had no choice.

He had chosen to take this gamble, so he had to see it through to the end.

The very end.

Theron closed his eyes, taking shallow breaths.

~

"Come, come, Theron. You're a growing boy—you need to get out more."

Theron looked up from his book to see his golden retriever of a father looking to him with expectant eyes. He blinked, tilting his head a bit, then his head shifted toward his mother, who had passed out on a rocking chair, her belly swollen so large she could probably lean forward a bit more to use it as a pillow.

He understood immediately.

His father had been waiting on his mother hand and foot with the due date for Little Bobo coming up. He was a man who loved working with his hands, and it was driving him crazy being stuck inside all day.

But if he just left on his own, he would definitely get a scolding. However, he happened to know that his wife's weak point was their children. If he told her that he had taken out Theron for some fun, she would be more forgiving if he wasn't there immediately with the glass of water she called for.

Seeing his father's almost pleading gaze, Theron wanted to laugh.

He closed his book and stood up. Or rather, he made a move to stand, only to find his father's hands under his armpits, lifting him up into a bear hug that quickly turned him into a sack of potatoes over the man's shoulders as he bolted out the door.

…

Theron found himself rushing to keep up with his father's long strides with his short little legs after.

He had always been quite short, especially in comparison to his father. It wasn't just a matter of age—even proportionally speaking, Theron had always found it a bit odd.

His father was over six and a half feet. His mother was quite a tall woman too, being at least six feet tall, so it definitely wasn't her side of the gene pool holding him down.

He was still young, not even 10 years old yet, so it felt like he might still have a growth spurt coming, so he wasn't too worried about it now. But the scholar in him knew that the fact he wasn't even 5 feet tall at this age was just… odd.

"Come on, Little Theron. Push yourself. I know you have more."

Theron was breathing pretty hard by now, but he hadn't complained a single time. His father was right, though—he hadn't really gone all out. He didn't see a point to it.

Weren't they just here for some exercise? If he pushed himself any harder, it wouldn't be a nice way to keep his body warm anymore—it would be more like pushing himself to the brink of death.

His father grinned.

"I can tell what you're thinking, brat. If you don't go all out, then what kind of Galethunder are you?"

Theron raised a brow, then wiped away beads of sweat with his sleeve.

His father laughed again. "Sometimes, it's nice to push yourself to the brink of life and death all on your own. Because when the time comes where you won't have a choice in the matter, you'll value the times it was your decision to make. It'll make you feel alive in ways your books alone can't.

"Now let's go. Show me what bite you've got."

BANG!

Theron's father increased the pace another 10%, leaping into the tree.