The phone vibrated against the wooden desk. A hand picked it up to examine the screen: an unknown number.
Do'cientos snorted and let it ring, but after five seconds the call stopped and rang again. After a third call, which this time lasted only a couple of seconds before cutting off, he frowned.
"Who the hell is so persistent?" he growled, accessing the call log to check. Seeing the sequence—two long calls and one short one—a crooked smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
"Line, line, dot... Son of a bitch..." he muttered, immediately dialing the unknown number.
The call barely rang before Gorgo's deep voice answered on the other end.
"Mr. Do'cientos..."
"I told you not to call my personal phone," Do'cientos interrupted him, his tone cold and sharp. "There's a reason I assigned you an encrypted number."
Gorgo let out a slight snort before responding:
"My phone was destroyed... I had to steal another one to contact you."
Do'cientos remained tense and silent for a second, drumming his fingers on the polished wood. The atmosphere around him seemed to become charged.
"I hope this call is worth it, Gorgo..." he finally replied, with an almost threatening calm.
"Sir... I confronted the 15-year-old brat you mentioned, and let me assure you, he's no small fry..." Gorgo confessed sheepishly. "He beat me easily... his strength far surpassed mine..."
Do'cientos leaned back in his analytical chair.
"Are you going to give up?" he asked, jotting down some numbers and an order to give to a secretary.
"No, sir..." Gorgo replied, causing Do'cientos to pause. "He defeated me, but I also became stronger. But continuing like this won't make me win. I need help... I've gathered information, and I'm developing a plan to win..."
"Okay... I'm traveling to Japan this Saturday. I wanted to contact a young man who has been acting strangely. I suspect he is one of the first genetically mutated humans in Japan... I'll hire him..."
"But there are only five days left!"
"It's for the best... Don't do anything stupid... Let the dust settle, and then you can explain your plan to me."
"Yes, sir..."
...
"He suffered serious damage to his arms and ribs," the doctor informed Max. "Luckily, his spine only took a slight impact. He's stable now, but he'll have to stay in bed for at least a month."
"Perfect..." Max replied, almost mechanically, with a slight tone of annoyance. "Did you notify any family members?"
"Yes... his grandson is on his way."
Suddenly, a young man burst into the waiting room, raising his voice:
"I'm here! I'm Leonel Kawaki! I'm here to see Shuku Kawaki!"
Max glanced at him sideways, raising an eyebrow at his thick accent.
"Leonel?" he muttered to himself, confused. That name... and that accent..." He shook his head and continued on his way to the exit, ignoring him. "Never mind... I shouldn't waste time on this..."
"Hey, buddy!" Leonel called out, rushing over with a relieved smile. "Thanks so much for helping my old man! I owe you one!"
Max raised his hand in a slight gesture, almost half-heartedly, but cordially.
"It's nothing..." he replied quietly before continuing toward the door, deep in thought.
He left the hospital with a look of disappointment on his face. Gorgo's escape frustrated him more than he wanted to admit.
It had been a good release: hitting someone who really deserved it and contributing to the common good. But the satisfaction faded when his own people were hurt; it made him feel naive, weak, as if all his training and effort had been for nothing.
He wasn't the perfect soldier he had tried to forge since his youth. Not yet.
With an agile leap, he climbed onto the rooftops of the buildings and retrieved the bag of tools he had thrown hours earlier.
There, high above, he paused. The wind caressed his face, and for a moment, the chaos of the city seemed far away.
He felt curious. "What if I tried... that?"
He closed his eyes, focused his mind, and let his energy flow.
The technique called "radar" consisted of emitting weak pulses of energy that, when they collided with solid structures, returned a subtle echo to the user. This allowed them to perceive shapes, the environment, and whether there were living beings or energy sources nearby. It was a skill idolized among the Senkaynes' elite troops...
But Max could barely perceive anything beyond two meters around him.
He frowned. His own limitations tormented him more than the most brutal blow from any enemy.
"I can't even fly..." Max muttered to himself, his gaze lost on the deserted street. I challenged Baldur even though I knew he was a master, that he was the best among his kind... and yet I went in blindfolded, believing myself to be invincible...
He brought a hand to his face, clenching it as if trying to awaken something inside him.
"Is this... how I hope to face the destroyer of Terra?"
He began to walk home, his mind heavy and his gaze fixed on the ground. Each step on the sidewalk composed a monotonous, gray urban song that accompanied him in silence....
"That's it! Keep it up!" Baldur said enthusiastically as he performed Japanese karate stances. Oliver and Gouten tried to imitate him carefully. The Shotokan style is technical, powerful, and involves long stances... It's ideal for beginners in martial arts.
"Master Baldur... why do we do stances? What are they good for?" asked Gouten, this time with genuine curiosity.
Baldur smiled, surprised.
"That's the first time you've asked such a serious question, Gouten," he replied approvingly. "Stances are fundamental in any martial art, not just karate. They train us in balance, stability, and precision. But they also strengthen the mind, develop technique... and connect us with our inner power... they develop us as individuals..."
Baldur's eyes shifted to Oliver, and they widened with genuine fascination.
To everyone's surprise, the boy was replicating the stances to the letter. Every gesture, every angle, every balance... was executed with the same precision as the master himself.
"Oliver... what you're doing... is amazing for your first time," said Baldur, holding back his excitement.
"Amazing? What?" asked the boy, confused. He looked at his clothes, then his hands, and finally his feet.
Baldur didn't answer. He just watched him, intrigued.
"He's not aware of the perfection with which he executes each posture... How strange..." he thought, as they continued the exercise.
"Could he be a genuine imitator?" he wondered, now more analytically. "If so... I am looking at a boy with unlimited learning potential."
Baldur's amazement was interrupted by Max's voice as he approached with a cold and distant expression.
"I'm here," he announced, carrying his tool bag.
The old man and the boys turned to greet him with a friendly gesture. Without further ado, Max addressed Baldur.
"I need to talk to you... alone."
Baldur looked at him intently. The tone, the look, the stiffness... everything indicated that it was something serious.
"All right... you guys keep practicing," Baldur told the boys, without losing his composure.
"Obey..." Max added automatically, but as soon as he felt Baldur's hand on his shoulder, he realized how unnecessary the order was. Uh... um... sorry," he corrected, somewhat uncomfortable.
Baldur followed Max to a secluded spot, out of sight of the boys.
Meanwhile, Oliver and Gouten continued practicing in the courtyard. However, Oliver interrupted the exercise, sat down on the ground, and closed his eyes, trying to concentrate.
"What are you doing? Baldur said to continue with the postures," Gouten asked, puzzled.
"When we meditated the other day... I saw two bright spheres in a dark space. I sense that it was inside my own mind... or spirit," Oliver replied, without opening his eyes.
"What you're saying sounds stupid," said Gouten, with his usual mocking tone. "Enter your mind and see spheres? Nah... I don't know, I find that hard to believe."
"Master Baldur said that we have to 'look for something' while we meditate. When I tried it, I found those two spheres," explained Oliver. What if what we have to find... is precisely those spheres?
"Wasn't our goal to become strong?" asked Gouten, frowning. "What's the point of finding 'that' if we don't even know what it's for?"
"Aren't you at least curious?"
"No, not at all," replied Gouten with a shrug. My only goal is to chop down trees with my fists, launch those energy attacks like Max does... and fly, like Baldur did.
"Hmm... I see..." Oliver muttered, looking thoughtful as he stared at his own hand. He clenched his fist with determination. "If Baldur makes us practice it, it must be because there's something big behind it... I have to find it.
...
"Max... you seem tense... what do you want to tell me?" Baldur asked quietly, looking at him sideways.
"Mr. Baldur, I faced the 'Great Gorgo'..."
"Who the hell is that?" asked the old man, frowning.
"You don't know him? He's responsible for the massacre at Tao's dojo..." said Max, seriously.
At that moment, Baldur's eyes widened. He quickly put the pieces together: Tao had never been able to give him a name because when they faced each other... they never introduced themselves.
With the information shared by Max, Baldur began to process the magnitude of the enemy. Gorgo... that name no longer sounded like a mere anecdote.
"How are you feeling?" the old man asked him, sounding concerned.
"I'm fine, I wasn't hurt," Max replied coldly. "But old Kawaki took the brunt of it... He was injured. He's stable, but still in the hospital."
"I see... Why are you telling me all this?" Baldur asked, somewhat puzzled. That's not like you. Are you worried about Kawaki?"
"No... not at all," Max replied, shaking his head. "It's just that... Gorgo seemed to recognize me, even though we've never met before. I suspect he already knows who I am... and that could cause us problems."
Baldur nodded slowly, frowning.
"Actually... when I visited Tao in the hospital, he mentioned that he thought Gorgo would come for this dojo. He said that guy had a pattern... and that schools were his target."
"If that's the case... we have to stop him before he gets to us."
"I totally agree."