The next morning, after completing my daily mission, I arrived at a secluded spot in the park. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and fresh grass. The ground was slightly slick from the night's dew, and the distant chirping of birds provided a serene backdrop to my training. The tranquility of the moment was almost enough to make me forget the weight of my goals—almost.
I took a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill my lungs, and steadied myself. Today was another step forward, another day closer to the UA entrance exam. I couldn't afford to waste a single moment.
First, I began practicing the Iron Body Technique. Standing firm, I focused on controlling my breathing, circulating ki throughout my body. The technique wasn't just about toughening the skin—it was a meticulous refinement of muscle, bone, and energy flow. It demanded discipline, patience, and pain. Lots of pain.
I started by tensing my muscles as I exhaled, forcing my body to harden like tempered steel. The initial phase was all about conditioning. I struck my forearms against a nearby tree, feeling the impact reverberate through my bones. Pain flared momentarily, sharp and biting, but I gritted my teeth and continued. Each strike was a step forward, each jolt of pain a reminder of my progress. My body was adapting, my cells hardening, my resolve unwavering.
Next, I moved on to Iron Skin training. I grabbed a handful of small stones, their rough edges digging into my palms, and ran them across my arms. The abrasive texture scraped against my skin, leaving faint red marks. This method was brutal but effective—it toughened my skin, making it more resistant to cuts and blunt force. I followed it with deep breathing exercises, directing Ki to my epidermis, reinforcing it from within. The sensation was strange, like a warm current flowing just beneath the surface of my skin.
Once my body had adjusted to the tension, I switched to my palm and fist techniques. With a sharp inhale, I planted my feet firmly and launched a series of palm strikes into the air. Each motion was controlled, my fingers stretched and locked into place, the impact sending invisible shockwaves through the atmosphere. The sound of my strikes echoed faintly, a testament to the power I was building.
Then came the fist technique. I clenched my hands tightly, feeling the power coursing through my veins. Each punch cut through the air, delivering explosive force. I imagined an opponent before me—dodging, countering, and retaliating. My body moved in an instinctive rhythm—dodge, strike, step back, attack. Sweat dripped down my forehead, my breath coming in short, controlled bursts. My muscles burned, but I pushed through the fatigue. This was just the beginning. If I wanted to truly master my techniques, I had to endure.
I was drained of half of my energy. But after learning the Flowing River Method and storing ki in my daitain. It takes more time to recover the energy because it was the pure form of energy and I couldn't just absorb the energy using my Energy Conduit skill. I should just let it recover naturally or I should use Flowing River Method with Energy Conduit skill.
A Month Later
One month had passed, and everything was going according to plan. I still had one more month until the UA entrance exam, and I was determined to make every day count. My training was progressing steadily, and my body was growing stronger, more resilient. But it wasn't just my physical strength that was improving—my confidence was too.
Ever since I started at the dojo, I'd become friends with Kendo. I wouldn't say we were very close, but we had a comfortable camaraderie. We'd walk to the dojo together after school, exchanging stories and advice. I'd ask her about techniques I was struggling with, and she'd ask me for help with schoolwork. Surprisingly, I was better at academics than her, but she was a quick learner. She also wanted to be a hero and was preparing for the UA entrance exam. Even though her Quirk wasn't the strongest, she was smart, resourceful, and a natural leader. I admired that about her.
But today, the dojo was closed. After school, I started heading home, my mind already racing with plans for the evening's training session. That's when I saw them—the three bullies from a few months ago. They were leaning against the fence, their smirks sharp and predatory. My stomach dropped. After that initial incident, I'd paid them off, but since I'd started walking to the dojo with Kendo, they'd stopped bothering me. I'd thought I was in the clear. But, I was wrong.
Shiro stepped forward, his voice dripping with mockery. "We finally got you. Did you really think you could escape by sticking with Kendo?"
I sighed, already reaching into my pocket for the money. It wasn't worth the fight—not today. I handed it to them, hoping they'd just take it and leave. Ren snatched the money from my hand, his grin widening. I turned to leave, but Kazuya's voice stopped me cold.
"Don't leave yet," he said, his tone low and dangerous. "We have something to discuss."
I froze, my heart pounding. Kazuya stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "You got quite cocky. Maybe you lost weight and all, but you're still the same weakling. And you should know your place." His voice was like ice, cutting through the air. "You thought you were smart, evading us. Unfortunately for you, today is the day you'll remember for the rest of your life."
The air grew heavy, the tension palpable. I could see the smirk forming on his face, the glint of malice in his eyes. My mind raced, weighing my options. I could run, but that would only delay the inevitable. I could fight, but three against one wasn't great odds. Just as I was about to make a decision, a notification flashed in my mind:
Mission: Defeat the Bullies.