*Fwoom! *Fwoom!
The sharp sounds of gloves striking against a punching bag echoed across the gym,
*Fwoom!
Each hit, powerful, as Razan maintained rhythm and power.
*rattle
The chains attached on the punching bag rattled as he drove his fists into it multiple times, his eyes focused on his target.
Each blow Razan released on the bag was both powerful and loud.
Loud enough to make even the nearby members of the gym pause from their workout and glance at Razan briefly.
Still, they always knew Razan and how he usually trains as they had already known him since he had first become a member of the gym.
"Hey man, that bag ain't owe you nothing!" said a nearby member, making the others laugh.
Not out of spite of course, but recognition and usual banter.
"Haha!" Razan spoke sarcastically as he continued to punch his target
*Fwoom *Fwoom!
"You're so funny!"
He shot low with a snapping jab before performing a powerful straight, twisting his hip as threw the straight with great force that made the punching bag in front of him rattle.
He continued this sequence.
Again and again.
Training.
Before he caught a familiar figure at the corner of his eyes, approaching him from the side.
Recognizing the figure instantly, he stopped to look at him, raising one brow.
"What's the problem coach?" Razan asked the old man that approached him.
"Don't mind me, just checkin' up on ya kid." the old man placed a hand on Razan's soldier before continuing.
"The championship match is about to start in just a few more days… how you feelin' kid?"
The question hung in the air between them, yet a slight smirk curled at the corner of the coach's mouth, as if already knowing what Razan would say.
"Heh," Razan smirked,
*Fwoom!
Throwing a powerful hook at the side of the punching bag before looking at his couch, face filled with confidence.
"What do you think?"
Razan then continued, gripping his fist as his boxing gloves creaked from the pressure.
"If I win this… I just might get a good chance to get invited to the big leagues… I heard a lotta scouts would be there!"
"Haha!" Razan's coach laughed as he smacked the back of Razan's shoulder carrying both humor and approval.
"That's what I like about you boy! Confident to the core!"
The coach's laugh filled the air before continuing.
"But enough about that…" The coach waved his hand.
"What about school? You aren't abandoning your studies are ya?"
"Eh…" Razan tilted his head slightly in awkwardness of the question, especially that of which contains the word school or studies.
"What do you mean 'eh'!?"
*slap!
The old man's hand came down with a sharp smack to the back of Razan's head, forcing it forward with a jolt.
"Ow!" Razan hissed, his face scrunching as he rubbed the sore spot.
He shot his coach an irritated glance, but the old man's glare was already onto him..
"I didn't spend all this time coaching you in boxing just for you to throw your studies away, you damned fool!" the coach barked in an irritated voice as he pointed at Razan with his finger.
"All right, all right, geez…" Razan muttered defensively, lifting both hands in surrender as his hair shook slightly from the earlier smack.
"It's not like I abandoned school altogether or anything."
He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, clearly trying to soften the blow of his words.
"Mhm. I don't like that response," the coach scoffed loudly, folding his thick arms across his chest.
His brows furrowed even deeper as he studied the boy before him, unimpressed.
"Run fifty laps around the gym," the coach ordered flatly, his tone sharp as steel, "and while you do, scream at the top of your lungs: 'School is important!'"
Razan's jaw dropped.
"Are you serious?"
He stared at his coach in disbelief, hoping to catch some trace of humor in the old man's expression.
But the coach only narrowed his eyes, his stare heavy and unyielding.
He's serious.
"Does it look like I'm joking?" the coach continued.
Razan groaned loudly, dragging his hand down his face in frustration.
"Argh, fine…" he muttered, his shoulders slumping.
He turned toward the gym doors, his steps sluggish and reluctant as if the weight of the order crushed his legs.
"Damned school…" Razan grumbled under his breath, just loud enough for himself.
His hand curled slightly as he muttered again, bitterness lacing his tone.
"I plan to become a professional boxer anyway… who the hell needs a shitty school?"
*creak!
The evening sky greeted him as soon as he stepped outside.
*Fwoosh!
Cool wind swept across his skin, brushing through his hair and clothing, subtle but steady, carrying with it the faint smell of asphalt and rusting steel from the gym's walls.
Overhead, the night had settled fully, the stars faint and scattered like forgotten embers while the crescent moon hung silent above.
Razan closed his eyes briefly, his chest rising with a slow inhale.
He held the breath, letting the crisp air fill his lungs before exhaling, his shoulders easing just slightly.
For a moment, it was peace.
Temporary solace in the middle of everything he was being forced to carry—the weight of school, his coach's pressure, his own ambition...
and the lingering thoughts of his family that always seemed to weigh him down.
Just silence, thoughts, wind, and night.
"…Let's get this shit done, shall we?" he muttered under his breath, his voice breaking the stillness.
He picked up his pace, walking first, then breaking into a jog as he circled the gym's perimeter.
"SCHOOL IS IMPORTANT! SCHOOL IS IMPORTANT! SCHOOL IS IMPORTANT!"
His voice rang out, loud and raw, cutting into the quiet and echoing faintly off the gym's walls.
The words came with rhythm, each shout timed with his footsteps as he jogged into the night.
Lamp posts lined the corners of the gym as he jogged, their pale light stretching across the concrete, illuminating his path.
"SCHOOL IS IMPORTANT! SCHOOL IS IMPORTANT! SCHOOL IS IMPORTANT!"
Ten laps became twenty, sweat dampening his shirt, his breath growing heavier with each circuit.
By thirty, his voice was hoarse but still unrelenting.
"SCHOOL IS IMPORTANT! SCHOOL IS IMPORTANT! SCHOOL IS IMPORTANT!"
He sounded less like someone proclaiming a lesson and more like a man forcing himself not to collapse.
By forty-nine, his body screamed at him to stop.
His legs burned, his throat was raw, and his chest heaved as though someone had placed a stone upon it.
Just one more lap,
one more circuit,
and the punishment would be done.
But then—
*CRACK!
A sudden, sharp spark tore across the sky.
A bolt of light, bright and unnatural, streaked overhead like a jagged scar against the heavens.
It vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving the air humming faintly in its wake.
Razan stumbled mid-step, his eyes snapping upward, wide in shock.
"The hell was that?"
His heart hammered against his ribs, adrenaline spiking as his mind scrambled to make sense of what he had seen.
Before he could process it, before he could even steady his breath, he felt it.
A presence.
From the shadows ahead,
something stepped forward.
A figure cloaked in heavy garments emerged, its frame massive, the faint gleam of metal glinting beneath the folds of its attire.
The armor—or whatever it wore—looked unnatural, layered and ridged, as though forged not by man but carved from the likeness of some beast.
Scales shimmered faintly along the surface, jagged like a predator's hide, while faint protrusions—
Fangs?
Claws?
caught what little light the lamps provided.
It stood there, silent but oppressive.
A shape of menace that made Razan's instincts scream in warning.
Whoever, whatever this was—
it spelled nothing but trouble.
"Fuck no," Razan muttered under his breath, already pivoting to bolt back toward the gym entrance.
His body screamed for escape, for distance.
But before his feet could fully carry him away, the figure spoke.
"Razan."
The sound froze him.
A voice, deep and gruff, heavy enough to make the air around it seem denser.
It wasn't just calling into the night—it was calling him.
Razan turned slowly, disbelief etched across his face, his breath catching as his eyes met the figure again.
His mind raced, confusion and fear clashing violently inside him.
"…How do you know me?"