The two stared at each other.
The dojo was silent.
Then—
The girl moved.
Fast.
April barely had time to react before a brutal kick shot toward her ribs.
She blocked—
And almost buckled from the force.
"Shit, she's strong." She muttered.
April countered, aiming a punch at her face—
But the girl dodged, weaving around her strike and landing a precise knee to April's stomach.
April grunted, stumbling back.
The girl didn't let up.
She came at April like a storm—punches, kicks, sweeps—each attack sharp and calculated.
April blocked, dodged, and barely managed to keep up.
But she wasn't going down.
She adjusted.
Her instincts kicked in.
She matched the girl's rhythm, countering with her own brutal strikes.
The fight became a blur of motion.
The girl swung a high kick—
April ducked bending her knees backwards then the moment she swept her legs.
The girl caught herself mid-fall and retaliated with a spinning elbow.
April blocked with her right elbow then immediately countered with a gut punch.
They separated, both breathing hard.
Then—
The girl smirked.
"…Not bad."
April wiped blood from her lip and grinned.
"Not bad yourself."
The master finally stepped forward.
"…Enough."
April straightened, then cracked her neck.
"Did I pass?"
The master studied her for a moment.
Then he nodded.
"You begin training tomorrow. Same place, same time."
April exhaled, letting a slow smile creep onto her face.
'Barrier Three… here I come baby!'
—
The next morning, April stood in the dojo, dressed in a simple white training gi. The other students watched as the master approached, his sharp eyes studying her stance.
"Kyokushin is not about flashy moves or unnecessary footwork," he began. "It is about endurance, precision, and overwhelming force. If you cannot endure, you cannot fight."
April nodded. She was used to intense training, but something told her this would be different.
"First, we build your foundation."
And just like that—her trial began.
April wasn't prepared.
She thought she was, but this training was unlike anything she had ever experienced.
No punches. No kicks. Just raw endurance.
The first task? Holding a horse stance for an hour.
April's legs burned within minutes, but she gritted her teeth and endured. The other students stood firm, barely wavering.
The master occasionally struck their legs with a wooden staff.
"Lower," he ordered.
April's thighs screamed, but she obeyed.
Then came knuckle push-ups—on concrete.
Her fists ached, skin scraping against the rough ground, but she continued.
Next? Repeated kicks against a heavy bag—until her legs went numb.
Each strike sent a dull pain up her shin, but she didn't stop.
By the time training ended, she could barely walk.
Yet, despite everything, she smiled.
This was exactly what she needed.
After training, the master approached her.
"You have potential," he admitted. "But raw talent means nothing without discipline."
Ome of April rose an eyebrow. "I think I'm pretty disciplined."
He frowned. "No. You are instinctual. That is different."
He folded his arms. "You fight like a wild animal. Quick, vicious and reactive. But Kyokushin is about controlled power. If you cannot control yourself, you will never reach your full potential."
April clenched her jaw.
"I can learn," she said.
The master studied her. Then he nodded.
"We'll see."
—
Over the next few days, training continued.
April's body adapted.
Her strikes became sharper.
Her footwork became firmer.
Her endurance increased.
The other students began to respect her.
Even the girl she had fought before, who introduced herself as Ren, started acknowledging her skills.
But something was brewing beneath the surface.
One evening, after training, April left the dojo and felt it.
She was being watched.
She kept walking, her senses on high alert.
"Who the hell is tailing me now?"
She turned a corner and, in a blur of motion—vanished into an alley.
She pressed herself against the wall, waiting.
Seconds later, a shadow passed by.
April didn't hesitate.
She struck.
Her hand shot out, grabbing the person by the collar and slamming them against the wall.
"Why are you following me?" she demanded.
The figure—grinned.
"Tch. You got faster."
April's eyebrows narrowed.
"Vance!"
She tightened her grip. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up here."
Vance's smirk didn't waver. "Relax. I'm not here to fight. I just wanted to see how strong you've gotten. Plus this is just a hologram, not the real me."
April's instincts screamed at her.
"You should leave," she warned.
Vance chuckled. "Oh, I will. But tell your little team—Ragnarök isn't done with you."
Then, before she could react, he began to glitch then he disappeared.
April clenched her fists. "What the hell is Ragnarök planning now?"
----
April returned to the dojo the next day, but her mind wasn't fully there.
Vance's words echoed in her head.
"Ragnarök isn't done with you."
Of course, they weren't. She had humiliated one of their Executioners. She had gotten stronger—maybe too strong for them to ignore.
She exhaled sharply.
No distractions.
She needed to focus.
The master watched as April launched herself at the heavy bag, delivering a devastating low kick.
The force rattled the bag, but he wasn't impressed.
"You're still holding back," he stated.
April wiped sweat from her brow. "I'm not."
The master shook his head.
"You fight like a predator—but Kyokushin demands absolute power. No hesitation. No retreat."
He gestured toward a concrete brick.
"Break it."
April's eyebrows narrowed. "With my fist?"
He nodded.
She had punched a lot of things—metal, walls, people. But breaking solid concrete was a different level.
April took a breath, focused, then—
Slammed her fist down.
CRACK.
The brick didn't break.
Pain shot up her arm.
The master sighed. "You hesitate at the last second. You fear the pain."
April clenched her jaw.
She hated this feeling.
Master Ryouto folded his arms. "If you want to to learn further more, you'll need to overcome that hesitation."
April exhaled slowly.
She would.
No matter what.
—
Back at school, things had shifted.
April had been keeping a low profile, but whispers followed her.
"Did you see Michelangelo talking to that blind girl again?"
"Tessa hates her. Why is he even friends with her?"
"I don't think she's really blind. It's probably just an act."
April ignored them.
She had bigger problems than highschool drama.
But then—Tessa Lane happened.
Lunchtime.
April was seated under the cafeterias artificial tree, quietly eating an apple.
Then, a shadow loomed over her.
Tessa.
"You've been getting awfully comfortable here," Tessa said sweetly.
April didn't even look up. "And?"
Tessa's tone sharpened. "And I don't like it."
April smirked. "Sounds like a you problem."
Tessa's eyes flashed.
Then—something wet splattered onto April's lap.
April froze.
Tessa had just dumped a carton of milk on her. The liquid cascading down her hair then onto the floor beneath her.
The cafeteria went silent.
Everyone watched, waiting for April's reaction.
Tessa smirked. "Oops."
April set down her empty tray.
Then, without a word—she grabbed Tessa's wrist.
Not hard. Not painfully. Just firmly.
Tessa's smirk faltered.
April's stitched eyelids met Tessa's green eyes.
"You can't break me," April said quietly.
Then she let go.
Tessa stumbled back.
April stood, completely unfazed, and walked away.
The crowd whispered.
Tessa's face burned tomato red.
This wasn't over.
Not even close.
—
That night, April sat alone in the dojo after training.
She was wiping sweat from her brow when—
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She opened the message.
"Ultima. We are watching."
Her grip around her phone tightened.
"Damn Ragnarök," she cursed to herself.
April exhaled sharply.
If they wanted a fight—
They'd get one very soon.