The gym was dead silent when Rael arrived.
6:00 a.m. sharp.
The city outside was still asleep, but in HitBox, the lights were on. Ken was already there, seated in the middle of the mat with his eyes closed, legs folded, breathing slow and deep.
Rael stood awkwardly at the entrance.
"You're late," Ken said.
Rael blinked. "I'm early."
"Wrong. You were on time. Which means you're late. A fighter arrives before his master."
Rael exhaled. "This is gonna suck, isn't it?"
Ken stood and motioned to the mat. "Yes. Very much."
The first hour was hell.
Ken made Rael sprint laps around the block—barefoot. Then he had him shadowbox with one hand taped to his torso, forcing him to focus on positioning and balance. When Rael collapsed, Ken didn't yell.
He just stared.
"Pain is your mirror. It shows you what's wrong with your form."
Rael coughed. "It also shows me I need a new teacher."
"Then quit," Ken said. "Or get up."
Rael got up.
Because he didn't know how to quit.
By the third hour, Rael was soaked in sweat, limbs shaking, lungs burning.
That's when Ken dropped a steel case at his feet.
"What's that?" Rael asked, crouching.
Ken opened it.
Inside were weights, but not normal ones. They were sleek, black, and laced with strange patterns. They pulsed faintly, as if… alive.
"These are called Rootbands," Ken said. "Forged by one of the Seven Bloodlines. They don't just weigh you down—they sync to your body. Force it to adapt."
Rael looked up. "What happens if my body can't adapt?"
Ken gave a rare smirk. "Then you break."
The gym was dead silent when Rael arrived.
6:00 a.m. sharp.
The city outside was still asleep, but in HitBox, the lights were on. Ken was already there, seated in the middle of the mat with his eyes closed, legs folded, breathing slow and deep.
Rael stood awkwardly at the entrance.
"You're late," Ken said.
Rael blinked. "I'm early."
"Wrong. You were on time. Which means you're late. A fighter arrives before his master."
Rael exhaled. "This is gonna suck, isn't it?"
Ken stood and motioned to the mat. "Yes. Very much."
The first hour was hell.
Ken made Rael sprint laps around the block—barefoot. Then he had him shadowbox with one hand taped to his torso, forcing him to focus on positioning and balance. When Rael collapsed, Ken didn't yell.
He just stared.
"Pain is your mirror. It shows you what's wrong with your form."
Rael coughed. "It also shows me I need a new teacher."
"Then quit," Ken said. "Or get up."
Rael got up.
Because he didn't know how to quit.
By the third hour, Rael was soaked in sweat, limbs shaking, lungs burning.
That's when Ken dropped a steel case at his feet.
"What's that?" Rael asked, crouching.
Ken opened it.
Inside were weights, but not normal ones. They were sleek, black, and laced with strange patterns. They pulsed faintly, as if… alive.
"These are called Rootbands," Ken said. "Forged by one of the Seven Bloodlines. They don't just weigh you down—they sync to your body. Force it to adapt."
Rael looked up. "What happens if my body can't adapt?"
Ken gave a rare smirk. "Then you break."