lookism: Apostle

The first light of dawn gently touched the lake, painting the water with soft hues of pink and gold. A light mist lingered on the surface, while trees stood quietly along the shore, their leaves glistening with dew. A bird's gentle song drifted through the cool, fresh air, and in the distance, the mountains began to emerge from the shadows. The world felt still, wrapped in the peaceful embrace of the morning's quiet arrival.

Two figures stood near the riverside, facing each other. Peter spoke, breaking the silence. "So, Michael, we will begin by strengthening your mind, because it will be your greatest weapon in defeating your inner self."

Michael nodded slowly, listening intently to Peter's words. "You see that waterfall?" Peter gestured toward a large, cascading waterfall nearby. Michael nodded again. Peter's tone grew more serious. "I want you to sit under that waterfall for seven days. No food, no water. Just you, the water, and your mind."

Michael didn't hesitate. He removed his shirt, his breath steady, and walked toward the waterfall. The cold water hit his skin with a shock, but he didn't flinch. His body slowly became numb from the freezing touch of the water, but his mind remained focused. He closed his eyes and sat still, as though he were part of the earth itself. His only thought was the clarity he sought to find within.

Peter watched for a moment, giving no sign of emotion, then turned and disappeared into the jungle. The sun began to dip, casting a golden hue over the landscape, and the sounds of nature filled the air. Michael remained under the waterfall, his body beginning to ache from the cold.

As night fell, the cool air became even chillier, and Michael's stomach began to growl with hunger. Yet, he didn't waver. He kept his eyes closed, his breathing slow and measured. His focus was on stilling his mind, no matter the discomfort he endured.

Meanwhile, Peter had found a secluded spot in the jungle where he cooked a freshly caught rabbit. The scent of the meat floated on the wind toward Michael, but Michael didn't react. His stomach growled louder, but he remained unmoved, staying in the cold, unyielding waterfall, pushing through his pain.

The night passed slowly. The sounds of distant howls echoed from the jungle, but Michael remained focused, ignoring the fear creeping into his mind. The temperature dropped further, making him shiver uncontrollably, yet he continued to sit in the waterfall, unmoving. His body, now wrinkled from the cold, seemed to be breaking down. But his mind held firm.

The following morning, Peter awoke from the tree where he had slept and climbed down silently. He turned to look at the waterfall and saw that Michael was still sitting beneath it. He nodded, acknowledging Michael's perseverance, then went off again to search for food.

Days passed. On the fourth day, Michael felt the effects of hunger and cold more intensely than ever. His body was frail, and his skin had begun to shrivel from dehydration. His muscles ached and his stomach growled fiercely. Yet, as weak as he felt, the thought of his family drove him to push forward. He thought of their faces, their love, and their support.

He made it through another day, then another. His body lost fat and muscle, becoming emaciated. Still, he endured the pressure of the water. It seemed impossible to continue, but something inside him refused to let go.

Peter, standing from a distance, watched Michael closely, his gaze steady. You have to pull through it, Michael. This is only the beginning.

On the seventh and final day, Peter returned to the waterfall. He looked at Michael, who was still sitting motionless under the relentless flow of cold water. "Get up," Peter commanded. "The rest is over."

Michael opened his eyes, looking up at Peter with disbelief. Had he really rested all this time? But when he attempted to rise, his body refused to obey. His limbs were too weak, and he collapsed into the water.

Peter didn't say a word. He jumped into the river, swimming to Michael's side, lifting him out of the cold water. With practiced hands, he carried Michael to a small house he had built in the jungle. A bonfire crackled nearby, casting a warm glow in the night. Peter set Michael down by the fire and began preparing a meal for him.

The meat was cooked quickly, and Michael ate ravenously. The warmth of the food revitalized him, but Peter wasn't ready to let him rest just yet.

"You'll stay awake tonight," Peter said firmly. "Keep watch. The wilderness is dangerous, and your mind needs to be sharp."

With a heavy heart and a grim face, Michael obeyed. He sat near the fire, crossing his legs and closing his eyes in meditation. His body ached, but he steeled himself against the weariness. The sounds of the night were distant but unsettling: howls, rustling in the bushes, and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. But nothing threatened them.

The night passed uneventfully. Michael stayed alert, not allowing himself to slip into exhaustion.

The next morning, Peter woke early and turned to Michael, who now seemed to be in a better condition after eating and resting by the fire. Peter gave a small nod of approval. "We're ready for the next part of your training," he said. "Tie this cloth around your eyes."

Michael stood and accepted the black cloth. As Peter blindfolded him, Michael felt a strange sense of vulnerability. His senses were heightened by the uncertainty, yet he did not question Peter.

Peter looked at him with a calculating smile. "Now, you're not allowed to remove that cloth until I say so. You'll have to survive with it on, but that's not all. While you're hunting, I'll attack you at any moment. I'll steal your food, your comfort. You'll need to be alert and aware of everything around you."

Michael's expression remained unreadable, his mind blank. What had he gotten himself into? But there was no turning back now.

Peter wasted no time. He moved toward Michael with a sudden, swift punch. Michael, taken off guard, was knocked back by the force of the blow. He quickly regained his composure and, focusing his remaining senses, heard a rustling in the wind to his left. Without hesitation, he crouched and swept his leg beneath Peter's feet, attempting to knock him down.

Peter leapt into the air, narrowly dodging Michael's attack. He landed behind Michael, delivering a powerful kick to his face. Michael staggered, the pain sharp and overwhelming, but he immediately retreated, trying to gain distance from Peter.

The fight continued. Peter's movements were relentless, faster than Michael could anticipate, but Michael fought back with everything he had, relying on his heightened senses and the discipline he had cultivated under the waterfall. Each time Peter attacked, Michael grew more resilient.

And so, their battle went on—unpredictable, intense, and relentless.

Michael's body was battered, but his spirit, though shaken, remained strong. This was just the beginning.