Sweat stung Jihoon's eyes as he stood in the training ring at Blade's Edge, the gym's hum of clanking weights and buzzing holo-dummies a familiar pulse. A week of training had carved new aches into his muscles, but the black vest and pants, now broken in, felt like a second skin. The overhead lights glared, casting sharp shadows across the polished floor, and the air carried the sharp tang of metal and sweat. Han Taeyang stood across from him, his scarred chin glinting as he juggled three metal balls, each the size of an orange, their scratched surfaces catching the light. His grin was wide, almost feral. "You ready, Jihoon?" he called, voice booming over the gym's din. "You've come a long way in a week, but today's a real test. Keep that focus, Ghost."
Jihoon's chest heaved, his breath uneven from the morning's drills. His Hitbox Control had sharpened since that first day, when a single ricocheting ball had caught him off-guard. Now, Taeyang was upping the ante—three balls, thrown to bounce off the ring's padded walls, coming from every angle. The hunter exams were a week away, and Jihoon could feel the clock ticking. He wiped his forehead, planting his feet on the glowing lines of the ring. "I'm ready," he said, his voice steady despite the fatigue tugging at his limbs. His mind narrowed, ready to make himself untouchable.
Taeyang didn't waste time. "Here we go!" He hurled the first ball, a vicious arc aimed at Jihoon's chest, followed by the second and third, each launched at different angles—one high, one low. The balls streaked through the air, silver blurs against the gym's bright lights. Jihoon's world shrank to their paths, his focus a tight wire. Don't get hit. He pictured his body's outline dissolving, untouchable, and the first ball passed through his torso, slamming into the wall with a thud. It ricocheted, bouncing off a corner, then another, coming back from his left. The second ball grazed past his shoulder, the third through his legs, both hitting the walls and rebounding in chaotic arcs.
Jihoon's eyes darted, tracking each ball's trajectory. His head throbbed, the effort of holding his focus like gripping a rope in a storm. The balls bounced faster now, pinging off the padded walls, their paths unpredictable. One whizzed past his head, another skimmed his thigh, but he held steady, letting them phase through. The gym's noise—hunters shouting, weights dropping—faded to a dull hum. His heart pounded, but he was in it, untouchable, a ghost in the ring.
Taeyang clapped, his laugh loud and sharp. "Hell yeah, Jihoon! Look at you, dodging like a pro!" His voice cut through, and Jihoon's focus flickered, his eyes flicking to Taeyang's grin. A mistake. A ball ricocheted from behind, slamming into his back with a sharp sting. He stumbled forward, cursing under his breath, pain blooming between his shoulder blades.
"Damn it," Jihoon muttered, rubbing the spot, his face hot. A few hunters nearby glanced over, one chuckling before turning back to their weights. The balls rolled to a stop, and Jihoon straightened, frustration mixing with determination.
Taeyang picked up a ball, tossing it lightly. "You're getting cocky, kid," he said, his tone half-teasing, half-serious. "That's what happens when you let your focus slip. Those balls are nothing compared to a D-Rank beast's claws. You gotta hold it, no matter what's going on—me yelling, beasts roaring, anything. Again."
Jihoon nodded, his jaw tight. He shook off the pain, planting his feet. "Throw 'em," he said, his voice low but firm. His head ached, his legs burned, but he wasn't quitting. Not with the exams so close.
Taeyang grinned, launching the balls again, harder this time, their paths wilder as they ricocheted off the walls. Jihoon's focus snapped back, sharper now, his mind a blade cutting through the chaos. One ball passed through his chest, another through his side, the third skimming past his ear. They bounced, crisscrossing the ring, and he tracked them all, his body a phantom in their paths. Sweat dripped into his eyes, his breath ragged, but he held on, dodging every hit for a full minute. The balls finally slowed, rolling to a stop, and Jihoon exhaled, his knees trembling.
Taeyang let out a whistle, crossing his arms. "Damn, kid. That was solid. A week ago, you'd have been bruised head to toe. You're making real progress." His grin faded, his eyes narrowing as he studied Jihoon's slumped posture, the way his chest heaved. "But your stamina's a problem. You're wiped, aren't you?"
Jihoon wiped his face, his arms heavy. "Yeah," he admitted, voice rough. "Holding focus that long… it's like running a marathon in my head. I'm beat."
Taeyang nodded, not surprised. "That's your weakness right now. Your Hitbox Control's killer, but it's useless if you're too tired to keep it up. Exams'll test you for endurance—physical, mental, all of it. A dungeon sim could last an hour, a duel even longer" He pointed to a treadmill across the gym, its sleek frame glowing with relic tech. "Get on that. One hour, no breaks. Push your limits."
Jihoon groaned, his legs already screaming. "An hour? Taeyang, I'm dying here. Can't I just rest a bit first?" He sank onto the ring's edge, his body begging for a break.
Taeyang's grin was gone, his voice firm. "That's exactly why you need to push, Jihoon. You're tired? Good. That's when you grow. Stamina's not just muscles—it's your mind, your will. You want to be Ghost, untouchable in a dungeon? You gotta outlast the fight." He stepped closer, his scar catching the light. "This is your chance. One week left. Don't waste it."
Jihoon's shoulders slumped, but Taeyang's words hit hard. He thought of the exam form in his pocket, the stamped paper that was his shot at something bigger. His mother's proud smile flashed in his mind, her warning to stay safe. He couldn't let her down, couldn't let himself falter. "Fine," he said, standing, his legs wobbly but his jaw set. "One hour."
Taeyang clapped his shoulder, nearly knocking him over. "That's the spirit, kid. I'm heading out early today—got some Iron Fang business to handle. But you keep at it, same focus you had with those balls. Don't slack just 'cause I'm not here." He tossed the metal balls into a bin, his grin returning. "You're doing good, Jihoon. Keep it up."
Jihoon nodded, his chest tight with gratitude. "Thanks, Taeyang. I won't let you down." His voice was quiet, but he meant it, the hunter's faith in him a spark against his fatigue.
Taeyang waved, heading for the locker room, his broad frame disappearing into the gym's bustle. Jihoon turned to the treadmill, its digital display glowing with settings he barely understood. He stepped on, setting a steady pace, the belt humming under his feet. His body protested, his head still throbbing from the focus drills, but he pushed forward, one step at a time. The gym's noise faded, his world narrowing to the rhythm of his feet, the burn in his lungs. He pictured the exam ring, a D-Rank beast lunging, and himself dodging, untouchable, for as long as it took.
An hour later, Jihoon stumbled off the treadmill, his legs like jelly, his breath coming in gasps. The gym was quieter now, evening settling in, a few hunters still sparring in distant rings. He collapsed onto a bench, sweat soaking his vest, his body screaming but his mind clear. He'd done it—no breaks, no quitting. His Hitbox Control was sharper, his focus stronger, even if his stamina lagged. One week left, and he was starting to believe he could be Ghost, like Seoyoon and Taeyang said.
He grabbed a towel, wiping his face, the training card in his pocket a reminder of how far he'd come. The exams loomed, a test of everything he was building here. He'd keep pushing, no matter how tired he got. For now, that was enough.