Shadow Slave: Divergence of Hereos

Chapter 11: Home

Weeks, maybe even months had passed, though the days blurred together as I trained relentlessly. 

Time no longer held any meaning. Every day I would rise, despite the aches in my body, despite the bruises and wounds that never seemed to heal fast enough, and I would practice.

The sun would rise and set, casting shadows on the cave floor, but my focus never wavered. 

I swung Ruyi Jingu again and again, sweat pouring down my face as I struggled to master its weight, its balance. Mori Jin's words about technique, will, and intent echoed endlessly in my mind. 

The technique I could improve with time, repetition. My body would adjust, learn to move the way it needed to. But the other two? 

That was where the real challenge lay.

Every swing of the staff felt heavier, not just from the physical strain but from the weight of my doubts. 

I would push through them, thinking of Mori Jin's demonstration, his effortless control of the weapon that had devastated the sky itself. He made it seem so easy, as if the staff were part of him—an extension of his will.

But for me, it was still just a tool. A piece of material, no matter how divine. I was lacking something crucial, something far deeper than just technique. I didn't know what it was. 

My will was strong, wasn't it? I had endured so much already. I was still here, wasn't I?

But intent—that was different. 

During my brief moments of rest, I would sit down with the staff across my lap and meditate, closing my eyes to block out the world around me.

I would think of Mori's words, of the demonstration, and reflect. I had to find my intent—my true purpose. 

Now that I reflected more, Mori's intent was clear.

It was to fight. He wanted to fight more powerful opponents, forever.

What was it that drove me? What was the singular desire that would allow me to wield Ruyi Jingu as Mori had? 

At first, I told myself it was survival. I wanted to live. 

That was as strong a drive as any, wasn't it? But every time I swung the staff with that thought in mind, I felt nothing. The strikes were hollow, lifeless. 

I tried again, thinking perhaps it was power I craved. 

The ability to stand on equal footing with the gods, with Mori Jin himself. But even then, the staff remained stubborn, unmoving. It wasn't about power either.

Days passed like this. 

Each swing brought frustration, each failed attempt at clarity only deepened my doubt. My body grew stronger, but my mind remained clouded, confused. What did I truly want?

One evening, I collapsed into a seated position, exhausted. My muscles screamed in protest, and my mind felt just as weary.

 I stared at the Ruyi Jingu lying in front of me, a weapon I still couldn't fully understand. I'd been forcing it, trying to find some profound reason that would give me the strength I needed. But nothing worked.

Mori's words echoed in my mind once more: "Intent is something deeper. Something beyond your being… something like a goal you are trying to manifest."

Beyond myself? 

I sat there, closing my eyes and breathing deeply. I cleared my mind of the doubts, the pressure I'd been putting on myself to be something I wasn't. And in the silence, something clicked. 

Survival, power, fear… all of it was about me. But that wasn't what I truly wanted. It wasn't what drove me. 

When I thought of my true intent, it wasn't about staying alive or becoming stronger than anyone else. It wasn't about fear of failure, or even the gods. It was about…

Home.

I thought of the people I'd left behind. My family, my friends, those I cared about. I thought of the life I wanted to protect. I wanted to go back to them. I wanted to fight for something other than myself.

I needed to reconcile my relationship with my parents.

I needed to let my friends know that I truly did value them.

I also wanted to let her know…at least before I died, that I feel something beyond friendship for her.

It was a simple realisation, but it hit me like a bolt of lightning. My intent wasn't about surviving for survival's sake or gaining power for power's sake. 

It was about returning to the people I loved, to the life I wanted to protect. That was my singular purpose. That was my intent. 

I opened my eyes, a clarity I hadn't felt in weeks washing over me.

I stood up, gripping Ruyi Jingu once more, but this time something felt different. 

My hands no longer trembled with doubt. My mind was sharp, focused. I wasn't swinging the staff for myself anymore. 

I wasn't fighting for some vague idea of survival or strength. I was fighting for something tangible—something that truly mattered to me.

I took a deep breath, planting my feet firmly on the ground.

With a newfound sense of calm, I whispered to myself, "Extend, Ruyi Jingu."

The staff didn't move, not in the dramatic way it had for Mori Jin, but this time, I didn't feel defeated. 

There was a shift, subtle but undeniable. I could feel the weapon resonating with me, like it was starting to listen, starting to respond.

I swung the staff again, but now each movement felt deliberate, guided by something deeper. Each strike had purpose. Each stance felt stronger, more controlled.

I wasn't there yet. But for the first time, I knew I was on the right path. I understood what Mori Jin had been trying to teach me all along. Intent wasn't about mastering the weapon. 

It was about mastering myself—my desires, my purpose, and my will to fight for something greater than me.

I swung again, and again, the staff cutting through the air with a newfound grace, a rhythm I hadn't had before. And with each swing, I could feel the Ruyi Jingu responding, just a little more.

Mori's words rang in my mind: "When your intent is strong enough, the world itself bends to your will."

I was starting to understand.

And I wouldn't stop until I did.

As the days passed, I began to feel the subtle changes in my movements. 

Each swing of the Ruyi Jingu became sharper, more precise, as if the staff itself was starting to accept me.

My body had grown stronger, and my mind clearer, but more than anything, I had finally found my intent—the reason I fought, the reason I endured.

It wasn't just a stick in my hands anymore. It was something far more powerful.

One morning, after another long session of training, I noticed Mori Jin standing at the mouth of the cave, watching me. 

His golden eyes glimmered with something I hadn't seen before—approval. He crossed his arms and gave a small, satisfied smile.

"You've improved," Mori said simply, his voice calm but resonating with authority.

I stopped mid-swing, breathing heavily, my body drenched in sweat. For a moment, I wasn't sure if he was mocking me, but the look on his face was genuine. 

I let the Ruyi Jingu rest at my side, its weight feeling much lighter than before, though I knew that was more my own perception than the staff itself changing.

"I've just been doing what you told me," I replied between laboured breaths, wiping the sweat from my forehead.

Mori walked forward, his gaze fixed on the staff in my hand. 

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