The Last Bargain

Chapter XXXII: Trial By Fire

Zento stood in the vast, open courtyard, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. All around him, his clan members—men and women he had known his entire life—stared at him with cold, unyielding expressions. Their eyes were filled with disappointment, with judgment. He felt their gaze like a weight pressing down on him, the weight of a thousand expectations he had never quite managed to fulfill.

He had always felt this way—a step behind, never quite fast enough, never quite strong enough. Now, as he faced the assembled members of his clan, those feelings came rushing back like a flood, threatening to drown him.

"You're too slow," one of the elders said, his voice like a lash. "You always have been."

Zento gritted his teeth, feeling a surge of anger mixed with fear. "No," he muttered, shaking his head. "I'm not slow... I'm... I'm stronger than you think."

A young warrior from his clan stepped forward, his expression hard. "Stronger?" he sneered. "You think you're stronger? You can't even break Mach 1. You're a disgrace to the Dassou name."

Zento's heart pounded in his chest, his hands trembling. "I've trained," he replied, his voice tight with frustration. "I've pushed myself... I'm faster than I used to be."

Another warrior laughed, a harsh sound that echoed through the courtyard. "Faster?" he scoffed. "You're still nothing. Just a shadow of what a true Dassou warrior should be."

Zento's breath quickened, anger and shame boiling inside him. He wanted to shout back, to argue, but he knew it wouldn't make a difference. His clan members were relentless, their eyes cold and unforgiving.

"You've always been slow," a woman's voice cut in, sharp and biting. "Always holding us back. You'll never be fast enough, Zento. Never good enough."

Zento felt the sting of her words like a slap to the face, his mind racing. "I can do this," he thought, trying to steady himself. "I can prove them wrong."

The warriors around him began to circle, their movements precise and coordinated. Zento's instincts screamed at him to move, to defend himself, but his mind was clouded with doubt. He felt his heart racing, his body tensing.

"Fight!" one of the clan members shouted, charging forward with a swift kick aimed at Zento's head.

Zento barely dodged, moving just in time to avoid the blow. But as he ducked, another warrior attacked from behind, striking at his side. He spun, blocking the attack, but the force of it sent him stumbling back.

"You're too slow," the warrior taunted. "Too weak."

Zento felt a surge of frustration, his movements becoming more frantic. He tried to focus, to use his ability to ignore the laws of inertia and gravity, to move faster, but he could feel the strain in his muscles, the resistance in his joints. He could move quickly, but not quickly enough. He was still below Mach 1—his speed was still limited, his body unable to push past the barrier that held him back.

Another warrior lunged at him, his fists glowing with energy. Zento ducked, trying to dodge, but the attack grazed his shoulder, sending a sharp pain shooting down his arm.

"You're not good enough," the warrior sneered. "You'll never be good enough."

Zento clenched his teeth, his anger boiling over. "I am good enough," he shouted, his voice raw with emotion. "I'll prove it!"

He pushed himself harder, feeling the familiar rush of his ability kicking in. He felt lighter, faster, as he began to move, his body blurring as he sped across the courtyard. He dodged another attack, then another, his reflexes sharp, his movements fluid.

But it wasn't enough. The warriors were faster, their attacks coming from all directions, forcing Zento to stay on the defensive. He could hear their taunts, their jeers, each one a knife twisting in his gut.

"Faster!" one of the warriors shouted. "If you can't go faster, you'll never survive!"

Zento felt his frustration mounting, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. He tried to push himself, to accelerate, but his body resisted, the strain becoming almost unbearable.

He could hear their voices in his head, repeating over and over, "Too slow... too slow..."

He ducked under another blow, narrowly avoiding a punch aimed at his face. He tried to counter, to strike back, but the warrior was already gone, moving faster than he could track. He felt a fist connect with his ribs, a foot sweep his legs, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"You can't even keep up," a voice sneered. "How do you expect to lead?"

Zento gritted his teeth, pushing himself up, his body aching with every movement. He felt a wave of anger and shame, the frustration of always being one step behind, of never being fast enough.

"I have to be faster," he thought, his heart pounding. "I have to... I have to push through."

He forced himself to his feet, his eyes blazing with determination. He could feel the limit of his speed pressing down on him, the barrier that held him back. He knew he had to break through it, to push past Mach 1, to prove he was more than they thought.

The warriors moved in again, attacking from all sides. Zento ducked, dodged, blocked, his movements quick and desperate. He could feel the strain in his muscles, the burn in his lungs, but he refused to give up.

"Come on," he muttered, his voice filled with frustration. "Faster... faster..."

He focused on his ability, on the feeling of weightlessness, of freedom. He felt the rush of air around him, the ground blurring beneath his feet. He pushed harder, faster, his body screaming in protest.

But it wasn't enough. He was still too slow, still too weak. The warriors closed in, their strikes relentless, their taunts cutting deep.

"You'll never be fast enough," they chanted. "You'll never be strong enough."

Zento felt a surge of anger, a burning fury that filled his chest. He clenched his fists, his jaw tight, his eyes blazing. "I am strong enough," he shouted, his voice echoing across the courtyard. "I'll show you... I'll show you all!"

He took a deep breath, feeling the energy building inside him, the power of his ability pushing against the limits of his body. He knew he was close, so close to breaking through, to reaching that speed he needed.

"Come on," he whispered, his voice filled with determination. "Just... a little... more..."

The warriors lunged at him again, their movements blurring with speed, their attacks coming from all sides. Zento felt the pressure building, the strain on his body, but he refused to give up. He could feel something shifting, something changing, a crack forming in the barrier that held him back.

And then, with a sudden burst of speed, he moved. Faster than he had ever moved before, his body blurring, the world around him slowing down. He could see the surprise in the eyes of the warriors, could feel the power coursing through him, could taste the freedom of speed.

But he was still not fast enough.

He felt the strain in his muscles, the sharp pain in his joints, his body beginning to rebel against the force he was exerting. He was on the edge, so close to breaking through, but still just below that crucial threshold.

"Faster!" he shouted, pushing himself harder. "I have to be... faster..."

The warriors closed in again, their attacks relentless, their movements blurring with speed. Zento braced himself, knowing the fight was far from over, knowing he had to push harder, to find a way to break through.

He knew he had to face them... all of them... and prove that he was worthy.

The battle was just beginning.