The fire within

Ryoul stood in the midst of the barren room, wearing the uniform which he had been instructed, which was little more than a loose fitting pair of cloth pants. Though the stone walls and floor were cold, feeling like ice to the touch, the air was blistering hot, and Ryoul was sweating heavily. Though he wasn't wearing anything on his upper body, he felt as though he were wrapped in heavy chains, weighing him down, keeping him from moving. His breath was heavy, and the air felt as though it sat in his lungs, unable to escape. 

"Put your back into it, scum!"

From the entryway, Ryoul's master, Spyre, watched as Ryoul stood still in the center of the room. Spyre stood fully clothed, arms crossed, seemingly unaffected by the strange properties of the room. He leaned down and lifted a large rock from the ground, turning it effortlessly in his hands, examining it. Without warning, he launched the rock through the air, directly towards his pupil. Ryoul took the blow, the rock impacting his gut, forcing the air out of him. But he did not fall. 

"You think you can get by just standing there, scum?" Spyre called out. "You think just because you can withstand, because you can endure, that younwill succeed?" Ryoul did not answer. He could not. "You are wrong! You must fight, boy! You must give more than you are capable if you wish to be worthy of my lessons! If you are anything less, do not expect to escape with your life."

Ryoul stared at his master, but said nothing in return. He knew what the consequences of his actions were. He could feel the heat of the room. It seeped into his blood, and into his lungs. His heart beat fast and hard, pounding against his chest, ready to burst through his skin at any moment. But he would not let himself die. He would not fail.

Spyre once again lifted a rock from the ground, his eyes without emotion. "I won't mind," he said flatly. "Frankly I don't expect you to succeed. I never did. You will die soon, scum. And I will go back to my life without regrets."

Again the rock flew through the air. Ryoul watched it soar, clearly aimed at his head. If he didn't move, he knew he would not be able to withstand the blow. But he couldn't. His skin was too heavy, his lungs too hot, his muscles too sore. He could barely stand.

But he couldn't die. He couldn't let himself. A roar bubbled up in his throat, burning it from the inside out. His hands felt as though they were melting, his skin felt as though it would simply fall away. The scream tore his lips apart, and fire leaped from deep within him, engulfing the rock in an instant. 

For a while, the student and madter stood in silence, watching each other. 

"Well then," Spyre mused. "Perhaps you have a little fire in your belly after all."