Five months.
That's how long Daniel Valtier disappeared. No fights. No rumors. Nothing.
He trained alone—mornings, nights, rain or shine.
Pushups until failure. Squats with bricks. Core workouts on broken concrete.
No fancy gyms. No coach. Just pain, repetition, and grit.
When he returned exactly after five months, he looked different. Taller. Leaner. His build more defined—solid enough to stop most kids in their tracks.
But to him?
Still not enough.
"A stronger body means shit if you don't know how to fight."
That's when he started looking for someone real. Someone dangerous.
And the name kept coming up — Jay Leno.
A martial artist known in the undercurrent circles of VALHALLA, living quietly near the ASGARD border.
No videos. No crews. Just stories.
Said to be a peak Ascendant, nearly at the level of a Legend Breaker.
Unmatched in technique. No flash, just destruction.
Weeks Passed.
It wasn't a quick meeting. Daniel searched for weeks—asking, digging, waiting.
When he finally found Jay, it was in a rundown building turned personal dojo. Quiet. Unmarked.
Daniel walked in. No bow. No pretense.
"Train me."
Jay didn't even look up.
"Fuck off."
The days dragged on. Daniel returned again. And again.
A week. Then two. Then more.
Jay didn't care.
Until one day—he snapped.
No words. Just movement.
A brutal taekwondo kick to Daniel's chin.
Followed by a clean strike to the side of his temple.
Daniel dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.
Jay turned to leave—done.
But the sound of feet sliding on concrete made him pause.
Daniel launched forward, mimicking the exact same kick Jay had used—same pivot, same motion, same angle.
Jay caught it, blocked it—but frowned.
"You… you can copy?"
Daniel didn't respond. His body was burning, legs barely holding.
It was as if being hit had unlocked something.
His mind was foggy, but his body moved with unnatural clarity.
Jay watched him silently now. For the first time—interested.
"So that's what you are…"