'Oh, come on, this is the third time in a row!' said Wolf, irritated.

  The man was laid on his back again. They were sparring for some time now, yet seemingly no progress was made.

  'I swear, each time you would start using that power, you hesitate! You are holding yourself back, for God knows what reason!'

  'I don't even know what the purpose of this is,' said the man while sitting up on the ground.

  'I believe it was—to put it bluntly—to get you mad,' joined in Scythian. He was sitting in the grass of the open field, where they made camp. He looked quite relaxed, despite his pupil getting beaten. But the swordsman got himself into that in a way when he agreed to train with Wolf in mastering his hatred. In order to do this, the veteran had thrown more than punches at him, trying to draw out the same reaction he got in Paxfort with various insults, but to no avail. Each time it would shine, each time it would come forth to wreak havoc and lay waste to anything and everything, the man would bottle it down again in the last moment. Therefore, denying any and all opportunity for him and his mentors to understand and control it.

  'Thank you, Scythian,' said the man sarcastically. 'I meant, what was the purpose of me agreeing to this! I can not let it out, and it is in a perfectly good place where it is right now. At least I won't hurt anyone while it's inside'.

  The master of battle grabbed the traveler by his shirt, drawing him closer.

  'Perfectly good place, my ass! It's killing you! Bottling it up only means that it does not do any damage on the outside; inside, however, is a different story, and you know it. It will erode your will, your achievements, which you were so proud of a few days ago. It will make you weak! Maybe you don't feel the need to deal with it now, but in the long run? You will succumb to the same despair that got you, your little friend over there,' Wolf pointed at the Hollow, which was lying in the grass, watching the skies above. Hearing it mentioned, it rose a little.

  The man slapped away his mentor's hand, breaking his grip.

  'Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I feel that? Or do you think that I don't know that by bottling it up, sooner or later it will erupt, like a natural disaster? Taking everything and everyone around me? Because I do! I do know that; I understand the dangers of that. But the thing is, no matter how strong you are, if I let it out against you, you will die! Scythian will die! Everyone I come across from that point will die. Because I. Cannot. Control. It. So it's better if it stays in this way; it's only me who is getting hurt at least,' the traveler said somberly. This power, this creature that rose from him at that battle, was no stranger to him. He heard its voice, felt its rage time and time again, every time he had failed, when he had to back down from a fight, when he lost an argument, or when things just did not go his way. But it never erupted like in Paxfort before. It never threatened to hurt someone else, even if it was someone who would deserve it. It was always aimed at him because...

  Stolen story; please report.

  'And to think, you refuse the idea that you are a heroic person. Yet, you are more willing to sacrifice yourself than either of us,' the old spearman interrupted his thoughts.

  The wanderer looked at him. He remembered his words in the tavern.

  'You said to me that I am a better man than I think I am. But am I really? I have so many bad habits and bad qualities, which say otherwise'.

  'But you are working on them, lad,' replied the fighter softly.

  'Yet, they are still there,' shrugged the warrior sadly.

  'And they are not going anywhere,' finally, the battle-master spoke. 'Not easily anyway. Look, I get it. You are scared of this power, but still you have to do something with it, because it will tear you apart. If you are not willing to do it here with us,' Wolf stopped for a moment, looking around. 'I have a method to do it inside.'

  The man gave a puzzled look.

  'Inside? You mean like a spell?'

  'More like a ritual, to travel to one's soul,' said the warmaster. Scythian and the swordsman looked at each other confused. 'Hey, just because I do not know those fancy magic tricks like you doesn't mean I do not know some tricks! Come on, I'll show you'.

  He was sitting in a meditative pose, with his eyes closed. Breathing slowly, concentrating on emptying his mind. It was something that was always hard for him to do. He had the means to do this on his own—spells he could use—but he was curious about what his battle-hardened mentor could show him. Besides, it's always good to have alternative knowledge.

  While he was doing that, Wolf lighted an incense, made of various herbs, which would—supposedly—help the warrior in the task of clearing his mind. So far all they did was twitch his nose with their smell.

  'Are you sure you are doing this correctly?' Asked Scythian.

  'Shut it, bone sack, I know what I am doing!' snapped back Wolf. He turned to his student. 'Now remember: this will take you down to face the bastard but will aid you no further. So after you are down there, you are on your own. It is your mind, but thanks to this method you will feel everything as if it were real. It will level the playing field, so neither it nor you will have any advantage over each other. So be careful. We cannot intervene, so don't let it win. If you lose, it can and will take control over you until it is killed. Good luck down there,' said the veteran. 'Oh, and one more thing.'

  The man started to feel something. The smell of the incense started to shift, disappearing. The breeze that had braced his skin so far was no more. The feeling of the grass from under him vanished and gave space for another sensation. As if the ground vanished under him, forcing him to fall into the abyss of his own soul.

  'What?' Asked the man in the final moment of his clarity.

  'Beat the bastard down!' Came the answer, from so far away, that the warrior could not decide if it was real or not.

  He landed in a place that was as black as the night. Yet he could see the emptiness clearly. He was alone there. No sight of anyone else. He was unsure what the next step would be for him or how he could find his foe. But unfortunately for him, he would not need to search for long, for a sinister voice rose from behind him. A voice, all too familiar.

  'There you are, coward.'