Morning, nine o'clock.
The smooth wooden floor was so shiny it reflected light, and the pristine white walls didn't have a single stain. Hanging opposite the entrance was a mystical piece of calligraphy, and below the bold splashes of ink spelling "Sword Zen Unity," people clad in white training attire sat solemnly, so tense they didn't even dare to breathe out loud. This was the karate dojo "Unity," a traditional training hall hidden within the steel forest of the city.
The sound of footsteps on the wooden floor was so light it was almost inaudible, and the figures shifting within the limited space cast a series of afterimages at the center of the dojo. It was impossible to see the expressions of the combatants or even their specific moves with the naked eye; the silent battle seemed like a collective hallucination unfolding before everyone. Only occasionally could you hear the metallic clang of a blade crossing another, so swift it seemed like an illusion.
Clang.
