The 'eye of the storm,' as Kiera called it, was a fragile, fleeting state. It was a place of utter stillness, a mental fortress against the pain and chaos.
The moment he tried to grasp it, to analyze it, it vanished. But he had felt it. It was real. And it was the first piece of solid ground he'd had to stand on since the power had awakened.
Kiera's training methods changed. The brutal, systematic beatings were replaced with something more focused, more disciplined.
She took the old, corrupted training manual Ryu had found in the archive and, to his astonishment, recognized it.
"This is a simplified version of the Azure Dragon's foundational texts," she said, her fingers tracing the faded diagrams on the terminal screen.
"It's for our initiates who have the physical aptitude but lack the initial ChainForce sensitivity. It teaches them to build a strong 'vessel' before the energy is introduced. For you, we have to do it backwards. We have to build the vessel while the storm is already raging inside."
She began to walk him through the exercises from the manual, but with a new layer of understanding.
She corrected his posture in the 'Rooted Stance,' showing him how a slight shift in his hips could create a more stable base.
She guided him through the breathing patterns, teaching him to sync his breath with the low, steady hum of the ChainForce inside him.
"Don't think of it as breathing in air," she instructed, her voice crisp and clear. "Think of it as drawing the energy from your core and circulating it. Your lungs are just the bellows. Your will is the furnace."
It was grueling, frustrating work. The stimulant from Joric still made him exquisitely sensitive to the energy's chaotic fluctuations.
Every time he lost focus, a spike of pain would shoot through him, threatening to shatter his newfound calm.
But Kiera was a relentless teacher. She would tap his shoulder when it tensed, correct his footing when it wavered, and force him back to the 'center' every time his mind drifted.
Slowly, miraculously, something began to shift.
The periods of calm grew longer. The 'hum' of the energy became more familiar, less threatening.
He began to feel the energy not as a foreign invader, but as a part of him—a wild, untamed part, but his own nonetheless.
He learned to draw a tiny fraction of that energy and channel it, not into a punch or a kick, but into simply standing his ground.
One day, Kiera stood before him, her training staff held loosely in her hand.
"The manual talks about leverage," she said. "But for you, leverage is not just physical. It's energetic. I'm going to push you. Not hard. Your job is not to push back. Your job is to absorb the force, root yourself, and remain standing."
She gave him a gentle shove on the chest. In the past, it would have sent him stumbling.
But this time, he remembered his training. He breathed in, found his center, and felt the energy in his core swirl down, connecting him to the floor.
The push came, and he barely moved. It felt as if the force had simply flowed through him and into the ground beneath his feet.
He looked up at Kiera, his eyes wide with disbelief. She allowed herself a small, almost imperceptible smile.
"Good," she said. "You've learned to stand. Now, we'll learn how to move."