Earth
Desert Plains

Some years ago...

Van stood alone in the deserts to the west. Not the sandy type perhaps, but the rocky type of desert. Throng bushes and rock formations, course ground with little water. Good thing he’d brought his own. Over his shoulder one could see that his hands both carried gallon jugs of fresh, clean water. He wasn’t a fool, and he planned to be working out quite heavily. That said he was already working out. Just flying here has been a problem with these weights he had bought. He wore the weights around his forearms and lower legs. They slowed him down and made flying and walking after he had landed much harder. But… that meant he was likely to grow much quicker.

Van set down the water and took off his backpack full of camping supplies. He’d brought food, a tent, a sleeping bag, and more. He planned to camp out here for a week. He only planned to leave for brief periods when it was needed to get more water. This would be a week long training binge. He was not looking forward to it, to say the least. But it needed to be done.

Van sighed and found a fairly even rock, and stepped firmly onto it. He raised his arm, stretching, and spent the first half hour warming up. Then, he began what might look like the strangest dance ever. His arm slowly extended, shaking, as if it was a punch slowed down to a tenth of the speed. Her left foot moved outward slowly, broadening his stance. It was not easy. He had found the idea walking when he had first got the weights. He held his arm out in front of his. As normal just holding out a limb for a prolonged time hurt his muscles. But this was worse of course, due to the weights. He had come up with an excessive regime featuring that, muscle endurance and work done not with speed and rests, but a slow glacial pace that would be horrible on his muscles for now, but perhaps due more for his than just typical workouts. His arms and legs already shook, it took all his effort just to hold them through the slow movements. Eventually, he was sure, he would adjust and be able to do it much slower, and more steadily. In his distraction he misplaced his foot and fell, his body and weights hitting the rock with a loud ruckus only he was here to hear.

Van clambered up, so tempted to tempted to take a break already. But no… He got back up and started all over again, his limbs shaking violently. He was unable to steady them just yet. He sighed and kept up the slow movements, turning and then kicking. New to the weights, and on one foot… the inevitable happened and he fell again.

Van spent the next hour attempting to do this for longer than a few minutes, only to get worse with time. This was perhaps inevitable, but frustrating to his. He finally conceded and sat down, already exhausted, next to his water. This was going to be a week that felt like a year, and there was no doubt in his mind.

Van say and sighed, feeling rather pathetic and sore enough that his entire body felt like someone had doused his in gas and lit a fire. The very act of existing seemed painful just them. His body felt like putty, unable to move on it’s own and having been twisted and played with by some perverse child. It took nearly a half hour of recovery just to lift a gallon of milk and take a long drink. Just putting the tent up felt like a rigorous workout after that.

After the weather began to cool more and his muscles felt like muscles again, if still blazingly painful, he went for a walk, walking nearly a mile. The cooling air was something he was enormously grateful for. He had probably taken this too far. He had started out with the heaviest weights he could buy… But he didn’t have the money to slowly ramp up. Which meant he was in for a long painful time until his muscles adjusted. Good thing he was about to regenerate, because he was fairly sure one of his muscles had ripped. Tomorrow was going to possibly be one of the most painful days of his life. Van crawled into an oversized sleeping bag, stuffed a pillow under his head, and finally went to sleep. And this day wasn’t even really the first day of his week of training, he had only been here a half day, and He had been setting up much of it.

Van sighed and stretched as he stood in front of his tent, the bright morning sun only half risen. His muscles crying out in pain and anger. He couldn’t have slept through that. It was nice to get up in some sense at least. The air was still cool and crisp, yet to hear up. And because he was camping between some rock formations there was ample shade. He felt somewhat swollen and wasn’t too surprised to find that he actually was. It wasn’t really as perceptible as it would be for a human. His natural armor of sorts covered it mostly. But it was there. As he stretched awake, his body stiff and painful, it seemed that he hadn’t ripped a muscle. However it felt like he had pulled every muscle in his body.

He stretched and moved as much as he could before going for a walk. He wasn’t stupid. He had picked up some basic books and had read a fair amount of human anatomy in his captivity, as secretly as he could. Today would be a day of recover. No major work outs in this day, stretching, walking, staying active through the pain, but nothing extreme. He needed time to repair and heal up some before going at it too much. With the sun having fully rose, he began to slowly make his own meandering path back to his campsite.

Once there he sat against one of the rock formations, in it’s shade, and ate breakfast. It wasn’t a gourmet meal for sure. He had bought and stuffed a couple dozen “MRE”s into his backpack before coming. You know, the typical ‘'meal ready to eat’ given to soldiers for rations. High in protein, carbs, and whatnot. He heated up what was supposed to be some kind of stew with what was some kind of crystal packet that generated heat when water was added, and poured mouthfuls in his mouth directly from the bag After it was heated. It wasn’t good, but not horrible either. As good as one could hope for really. He saved the Skittles packet and peanut butter and crackers for later. (The peanut butter in a packet and the “crackers”being 2 big slabs of crackers you broke along the perforations.) Those would be a snack.

After a half hour cool down he sighed and began a more simple exercise. Pushups. Not trying to do as many as he could, but slowly, working the stiffness out of his arms. No rush, nothing extreme. Just push ups. After that, basic squats, twisting to each side alternatively to work the stiffness out of his core. Van smiled to himself, despite his whole body being sore. He had thought to buy pain relievers but having gotten here he decided against it. He should listen to what his body says, not press the mute button.

Around 12 he ate another MRE, and sat reading an anatomy book he had purchased probably third hand from a college student sale where students sold old books to get the money to buy new ones. Even if it wasn’t terribly current, it didn’t matter too much to his. He had learned patience from his captivity. He could read a thick textbook like normal people read fantasy and romance novels. Sure he wasn’t human, but he had human genes. And who knew when this stuff would come in handy?

Around 2 he stood back up and stretched, going for another long walk, clinging to the shadows wherever possible. He he got back, he went calmly back to his own mild workout. Work the stiffness and selling away. Walk away the pain, become acclimatized. No doubt the warrior's path would be filled with it’s share of pain. Not that he considered himself a warrior, not yet at least. But he remembered Korran, even some of those he had met more recently, Maza, Rainbow, and Vadka. Not doubt the stronger he got there would always be people stronger. It was inevitable. But he didn’t want to call behind, and he was behind enough as is. Thinking these thoughts made his all the more impatient. It took all of his willpower to keep relaxed and not rush this. He would get there eventually.
Van sighed as he awoke with a start, wind was blowing outside and buffering the tent. He rolled up a tent window, and look out of the screen. Sand was blowing all around, dust included. Van closed the tent window and sighed. So it was a sandstorm. Thankfully, having been in the barren rocky part of the desert, and nestled between a few rock formations, the storm wasn’t likely to cause much of a problem. Only a watch displayed that the sun was probably rising just then. Van swept some of the fine dust that had passed through the screen into a corner.

He was still notably sore, and slightly swollen, but his day of recovery had helped. Van sighed as the wind picked up and blew against the tent, and began stretching inside his tent. He would have to warm up a bit inside it seemed. He stretched his arms and legs, rotating his upper body to stretch his core and work out some stiffness. With his stretching done, he began some morning workouts he could accomplish i n his tent. He started with push ups. Today he worked harder at them. Yesterday, which recovering from his first major workout, he had done light pushups, not too fast, not too many. Now, he did them in earnest. He got to work, lifting both his own body weight and the weight of his weights dragged his down. It was nearly impossible to continue after a while.

So, his arms rubbery and weary, he started on squats, rotating his upper body left on one squat, right on the next. This way his core would be used as well. He kept his arms folded just below his chest, keeping the weight of his weights at his center of balance, so he didn’t fall over. It didn’t take more than a few to get his muscles burning. After a dozen or so squats, he sat, closer to collapsing conveniently into a sitting position. The storm had subsided and he ate some breakfast before heading outside. He drank from a gallon jug of water, and poured some on the weights that he wore on his limbs. He had been wearing them non-stop. The water would help relax and cool his as it leaked between his and the weights. Wearing the weights at night was hard. He tended to toss and turn but the weights weighted his down so he couldn’t. Do he’d wake up at night, needing to adjust his position, and have to put physical effort into doing so. In meant he slept notably less deeply.

Hydrated and having eaten lunch, he started his own made up routine of slow motion. The slow, sustained movements while his limbs were extended were hard to bear. But, he shook a bit less. He could move slower. If one watched they would see it had a martial flavor to it. The slow forward motion of an arm resembled a punch, the slow backward step, a dodge. The twisting upward motion of his upper body and extending hand, an uppercut. His whole body shook with the effort of maintaining slowness. With training and practice, he would be able to go slower still, stop shaking, and be more fluid.

The goal here was to slowly stretch his whole body, while the weights forced his muscles to work harder to remain extended. It wasn’t the rapid push ups and squats and whatnot of a sprinter, more something that would give his muscles endurance, prevent his from tiring as quickly. He didn’t want to bulk up, he wanted his muscles to be dense and powerful, but lean and lithe. Any idiot could grow big bulky muscles, but he wanted muscles that were agile but strong, lean but powerful. Besides, if his punches and whatnot were strong not just with strength in force, but strength in staying their course, they wouldn’t be easily deflected.

After nearly an hour of this slow workout, his whole body felt limp almost. He drank more water, and went back into his tent, and sat. During his long captivity and having patent years in a cage… He had long since figured out how to enter a trance, how to meditate, and to quickly pass the endless time by tuning his mind to simply not keep note of its passage. So, thinking back, he slowly lowered himself into meditation. He felt his own ki and watched it move through his body, relaxing his body and going ever deeper into his own kind, as if it was a staircase he was slowly descending. He focused on not thinking, something hard to do, but with all his experience, he did it without much difficulty. He dimly focused his awareness to his ki. Then, to the breeze and the sounds of the desert, listening instead of thinking.

Then, he focused on his own body in a different way. He focused his mind on his hand. He moved only a single muscle in each hand 10 times each. Moving the end of his p i not ten times, then the end of his ring finger 10 times, then the end of the middle finger and so on. Each time moving only one muscle in his body at a time, excluding his heart, diaphragm, etc. This was his body, he would learn to understand and control it.

By the time he ascended out of meditation the sun was starting to lower. With several hours rest, he felt rejuvenated. Van smiled and went for a walk, making a wide circle around his camp fire several times, then switched it to a heavy jog several times. As he approached the camp again, now with a runner's high, he smiled and took a long drink of water before switched to push ups and crunches, working his core where he could. After another hour, he ate what amounted to dinner and headed back into his tent. That night, he slept more serenely than perhaps ever before.

Van awoke with a start from a bad dream. Apparently he had been mulling over Korran’s words as he fell asleep, because his dreams had been plagued by giant monkeys attacking people. Then, like Korran, they kept splitting and splitting until the world was overrun by monkeys. It has been quite the weird dream. And from there it got weirder, as they split more and more until the world was coated in bacteria sized monkeys. Van shook his head and rolled up a tent flap. Fortunately, no sandstorm today. More fortunately, he wasn’t quite as sore as he had been 2 days ago, despite having worked out harder than ever yesterday. Still painful and stiff, but not as bad as those horrible day of recovery.

Van opened his tent’s entrance fully, mesh and all, and sat still just inside it, drinking some water. He was nearly out. With a sigh, he places a simple marker atop a large rock formation and took survey of the land form above, before flying to the nearest town. Fortunately, now that he had some decent clothes, he blended in a tiny bit more than he had before. Still, it was a Rayne quick outing. He visited a large store, bought his several gallons of water, and filled his backpack with miscellaneous supplies such as vitamins, high protein snacks for long lasting energy, tea mix, and a sturdy metal water bottle. (He had accidentally crushed his yesterday)

Now back at his campsite, he removed his markings and mixed some tea inter his now full water bottle, before eating breakfast. Unfortunately he had nothing to keep his water cold, so he had to drink warm water. Van decided to start with a long walk around the campsite, circling it further and further out. Next was some simple stretches followed by his long, slow work out. Today he shook less, but he suspected that was merely that wanting to be better made his think he was. Whether or not he objectively did any better was impossible to say. He chided himself mentally for hoping for results merely 4 days into his week of training. I’d probably take months to get to Korran's level. Still. Hopefully he’d see some results at the end of his week. He slowly moved himself though his own martial dance, moving as slowly, fluidly, and steadily as he could.

It wasn’t easy. Only a few minutes in he misplaced his foot and fell into the rock he was standing on with a grimace. It requires too much attention. Of he got distracted… that was part of the problem these slow, sustained movements, thrusting his arm forward, for example, as slow as physically possible for his, requires holding it up and supporting it’s weight for minutes. Taking a single step meant balancing on one foot for the space of time it took for his othis to move to reward, while going as slow as possible. It was a test of endurance, balance, and mental toughness that he was finding it hard to cope with. But the harder he worked, the more the reward right? After an hour of shaking limbs, falls, and sweat beads rolling down his body, he had reached his limit and collapsed into a sitting position for water and lunch.

Next, it was time to meditate. He sat in the shade of a rock formation near his tent and relaxed himself, his hands lying idly on his legs. No Hindu or buddhist stereotypical position. Just relaxing his body and easing his mind slowly away from conscious thoughts. He took a toll of his surrounds though sight and hearing. He felt the stone below and behind his. No thoughts. No worries. Just relaxation. He closed his eyes and began walking down his own imaginary cave. Each stalagmite and stalagmite a different memory. In fact, it was as if each room in the cave symbolizes an aspect of his personality. The longer the stalagmite or stalagmite, the more strongly he remembered the memory. The shorter it was, the more hazy and hard to remember the memory was. And, he happened to notice, it lead slowly down. Slowly the memory formations felt more distant. Less hard to remember and more as though they were things he didn’t consciously worry about it think about. In fact, the deeper he went, the more the memories had a subconscious effect instead of conscious. He walked on, examining them at his leisure with a vague detachment. They didn’t provoke thoughts, they were just things to be examined in his detached state. The cave constricted slowly. He had to crawl during one section and felt a vague wave of fear. In fact, right passages were things he feared. Not to imply he had claustrophobia, but as of they symbolizes fears.

Van reached a section still deeper, and became aware of his body in a new way. In his relaxed state he started his prior training. He moved one muscle controlling each movement in his hand, and that muscle alone, 10 times each, the only exclusion being muscles he couldn’t stop, like his heart and his diaphragm. After all, stopping those for too long would kill his.

As Van slowly walked back through his mental cave, and returned to the surface, he smiled in a detached way, and began a walk. He walked a solid hour in ever enlarging circles around the campsite, then ran an hour. As he returned his detached calmness had faded and been replaced with a solid runner’s high. He stopped for a drink and began his glacial movement workout again, his limbs shaking less as the runner's high lowered the pain and got his endorphins going. He continues this for about a half hour before, as night began to fall, heading into his tent for the night. It has been a long exhausting day, that was for sure. However, his anxiety and impatience had eased. Because of all his work, he slept well that night.

Van sat cross-legged on the center of the stone platform, surrounded by a gently flowing stream, a few koi skirting below over the light river stones. Four stone columns rose at each corner and came to point at the top like an obelisk. The floor formed a well-polished marble square, perfect for training and inspiring calmness in the mind of even the most foolhardy fighter. A strange kind of bamboo, thriving in the snow, surrounded the area with its blue tint. With each small gust of wind they clattered together like a wooden wind-charm. Despite all the efforts to put the mind at ease Van only had one thought. Man, this stone is hard. He squirmed slightly, opening his eyes and looking up at the clouds drifting ever so steadily before closing them again and clearing his mind. He wished he could be one of them, wandering aimlessly caring little for anything at all. With each breath it felt as though he was growing stronger.

Suddenly a massive wave of emotion swept over him, as a blast of wind rocketed against the front of his body. Instinctively, he brought up his arms and crossed them over his chest, summoning and hardening his ki into a shield over his crossed appendages. Almost instantaneously the tinted-green shield shattered like glass. Van opened his eyes and shook his head violently to shake himself out of whatever wondrous trip was taking control of his mind. His vision was greeted upon a room made of pure white, another warrior, older than him but in the same physical shape as him. His hair fell to the small of his back and he kept a goatee well-trimmed. He gave off the impression of being a fighter but serenity followed him like a shadow. Van stood, holding his hands in front of him ready for a fight. Every muscle in his body told him that this man was dangerous, that this man's capabilities were far greater than his own; yet, he didn't want to attack him. The person sitting cross-legged in front of him seemed kind despite him not saying a single word to Van yet. The man's eyes opened and Van was taken back by the clarity that lied behind his eyelids. Piercing green surrounded a gleaming pupil. He stood, sighing slightly before speaking. His voice melodious but still able to put someone on guard. "Hello, Van. I'm glad we can finally have this conversation," He took a few more steps only for Van to take a few more back. "Why are you afraid? I mean you no harm."

"Who are you? What kind of black-art is this?" He felt immense power suddenly coming from this person. What's his game? Why has he brought me here? The man laughed and spoke with a smile. "Did your master not tell you anything to coming to this mystical place, where the small pond never freezes 'though it's in the north? A place where blue bamboo grows and birds sing happily despite the cold? A place where immense power awaits any of those who survive the journey?" Van thought for a moment, stepping backwards suddenly when the man was instantly in front of him. Korran sent him to this place for training and said he'd learn something more from himself but it occurred to him now that she never actually told him anything besides that he should meditate in the middle of a marble platform sitting in a small body of water that never freezes in the middle of a bluish-colored bamboo forest... he realized how ridiculous this sounded in hindsight. It suddenly dawned on him that he should address the one who had just changed his current plane of existence.

“Is this part of the knowledge that Korran said I would gain? Please, impart on me what you will.” He just barely got the sentence out of his mouth before another blast sent him skidding backwards, grinding his feet into the ground to slow himself down. Dust somehow settled around him, not knowing how it was stirred up in an area with no dirt was beyond Van. Quite honestly it was of little importance in his current predicament. The man, now Van could see his piercing green eyes, said only: “I am everything you could become. If you continue growing strong then I will become stronger, but if you turn from your current path there’s no telling what I’ll be. So far, your heart is pure. And because of this I’ll watch over your training. But know this, you may die from the intensity.” Van smirked, he was the strongest being for miles, there’s no way he could be beaten- A strong force that crunched into his center and twisted sent him spiraling backwards, coming to a stop only when the man appeared above him and spun into a kick, smashing him hard into the ground. “Don’t be cocky Van!” He said as he grabbed the boy and struck him again with the other hand, square in the jaw. Van’s body ached in extreme physical agony as bruises appeared with every blow his opponent landed.

Coming to his senses, finally, Van brought up both of his feet, planted them onto his opponent’s chest and kicked hard, flipping backwards in an attempt to escape only to be caught half-way down by a side-kick that made contact directly in the small of his back just above his hips. First his face made contact, then his chest, then his legs, and he finally slid to a stop, a thin streak of blood outline where he had landed to where he was currently standing. He stood, shaking his head and wiping his nose. He’d just barely regained his senses when a familiar blur appeared in front of him and a bang on the side of his head left yet another mark, this time to the right side of his jaw. He was sure it broke when he heard the sickening crunch of bone and it became harder to open or close.

Broken and bleeding, coughing as he brought himself up on shaky arms before a strong kick, toes digging in, flipped Van over and landed him right on his back. A pressure stronger than any he had ever felt crushed into his chest as a spurt of blood filled Van’s mouth and expelled itself with a cough. Van struggled feebly and grasped at his assailants foot. She looked down, leaning in on his knee and making eye-contact with Van. In a mocking tone she said “Are you really the Van who struggled all those years to become strong?” Yeah… Van thought as the pressure grew even stronger and it became even harder to breathe. “Are you not the Van who’s mentor died all those years ago just to give you a sliver of hope at life?!” Yeah…! It became harder and harder to form a coherent thought as Van felt the woman’s hand grab his throat and hoist Van up so that they were barely eye level. She squeezed, hard. “ARE YOU NOT THE MAN WHO’S SWORN TO PROTECTING THE UNIVERSE WITH EVERY ESSENCE OF HIS BEING?!” YEAH!! Van felt his ki flow through him like a torrent of water passing through a canyon. A surge of power flowed through him and he grabbed onto the woman’s arm and brought one hand down onto his helping, smashing it with a blow reinforced with his blue ki.

His hair flowed freely as if he were several leagues below the surface of a body of water and were falling. He took a stance, setting one of his feet back and took up a stance. He saw the smallest inkling of a smile crease the woman’s lips. She vanished again but this time Van’s eyes could follow, just barely. He brought both of his arms up, one blocking the hammer fist that came from the side while the other supported it with a flat palm. He looked down as he felt the blow alleviate and crossed one hand over the other to stop a knee that came directly for his nose. This pattern of blows and strikes continued for several minutes, each one creating a small pop in the air as if someone had broken the sound barrier, until finally Van landed a blow that he knew connected and sent the woman flying. Instantly, not giving his opponent a chance, Van appeared just above his target and dropped an elbow straight into his sternum, returning the favor for the blow from before. The white ground scattered into the air as the marble below them smashed hard, Van’s anger burning in his heart and just behind his grassy-eyes. He stood over his victim, looking down at her with either leg at both sides of her torso. “Never, mention my mentor, again.” He gathered all of his energy behind one of his fists and brought it down. Time seemed to slow as his fist came closer and closer to its target’s face. He heard a small voice just before it made contact. “You did well child, you’ll find a gift when you open your eyes again. I wait for your next visit. You could be so much stronger than Korran…” Just as the explosive blow seemed to give off a sound matching its intensity Van opened his eyes. Back at the marble square amidst the blue forest of bamboo.

It was evening now, at the very least twelve hours later. He panted, suddenly realizing how exhausted he was. What had just happened? It felt as if it had gone on for a few minutes. How long had he been sitting here? He suddenly processed what the woman had said in his last moments in that white world. He looked around quickly and saw a scarlet bundle sitting next to him. He reached for it, and unraveled the item swaddled in red linen. Inside was an elegantly carved staff, made from a material allowing it to be used in battle. It seemed even harder than the metal under him but much lighter. Van tried to stand but stopped, his vision blurring and the world around him seeming to rotate ninety degrees before his cheek made contact with the hard marble floor.