A boy with tousled brown hair floated effortlessly in the air, moving as if the very atmosphere beneath his feet was solid ground. He gracefully walked, rolled, jumped, and spun into backflips, ascending and descending as though the sky had transformed into a staircase.
Behind him stood a man with an outstretched hand, attempting to grasp something elusive from the heavens. The boy suddenly noticed that the chain around his wrist had vanished, replaced by the man's firm grip. Shock washed over him, and he turned to face his master.
In a calm yet commanding tone, the man spoke, "You've impressed me to the point of disbelief. Now let's continue your training."
As the words echoed in the boy's mind, he began to think of his progress like a level in a video game, accumulating experience at an astonishing pace. With renewed determination, he walked alongside his master through the air until they landed in a secluded clearing deep within the forest.
Surrounded by towering trees, the boy scanned their environment and found himself in a peculiar circle, void of any grass, filled instead with soft sand. Confusion flickered in his eyes as he tried to grasp how such an anomaly could exist in the heart of nature.
After a moment of contemplation, the boy turned to his master, who regarded him with a knowing smile. "Our new training is simple: one-on-one combat."
A flicker of anxiety crept into the boy's mind. He was acutely aware of the skill disparity between himself and his master. "How long will it take me to land even a single hit?" he wondered silently.
The man continued, "If you can land one hit on me, you will move on to the next phase of your training."
The boy's heart raced. Was this some sort of trick? He couldn't fathom why his master would make such a seemingly easy challenge. With determination igniting within him, he dashed forward, unleashing a flurry of attacks in rapid succession. But each strike fell short—his master danced effortlessly around him, dodging with an ease that was almost mocking, as though the boy's efforts were simply the flailing of a child throwing a tantrum.
With every attempt, the boy felt frustration mounting. He switched tactics, drawing upon various martial arts techniques, but nothing seemed to work against his master's seemingly infinite speed and grace. Finally, the man decided it was time to demonstrate his prowess.
With a flicker of movement, the master retaliated, delivering a series of precise, unblockable strikes that hit the boy like thunderclaps. Each impact sent shockwaves through his body, leaving him momentarily breathless and stumbling. It was not just the physical pain that struck him—it was the sheer realization that he was unable to even see his master's attacks before they landed.
As the boy knelt on the ground, gasping, the master's voice cut through his haze of disbelief. "You have endurance and strength, yet you lack stamina and speed. You possess untapped potential, but you can't harness it effectively…until now."
The boy rose, his gaze as inscrutable as an empty canvas, yet the man perceived an unwavering determination behind those still eyes. With relentless spirit, the boy launched his attacks, pouring every ounce of energy into their grueling training. They sparred beneath the ethereal glow of the moon, its blue light casting an almost magical aura over the scene. Finally, the man stepped out of the training circle, and the boy instinctively followed, both of them making their way back to the immense structure of Minka.
Just before the boy could cross the threshold to his room, the man's icy voice cut through the silence. "We will train for one hour each day. You may choose the time, but remember: if you can't land a hit, it may take you much longer than you desire." The boy absorbed these words, not with defiance, but with a steely resolve. It was as if the words simply drifted past him, falling like leaves, unnoticed and unyielding. He returned to his room, rejuvenating his spirit as sleep took him.
The next morning, however, something had changed. Instead of rushing into battle, the boy dedicated himself to strengthening his skills. He ran, jumped, and lifted immense objects, pushing his limits while honing his martial arts techniques. Hours slipped by unnoticed, until finally, he approached his master. "I'm ready," he declared.
The master's lips curled into a knowing smile, and they returned to their familiar stance. The air crackled with intensity as their fists met. Again, the boy battled valiantly, but defeat was inevitable. Yet, he didn't surrender; he persisted. This cycle continued for days, and as time blurred, he lost track of the passing hours, sometimes practicing in the rain, other times beneath a starlit sky. Night and day became mere concepts, overshadowed by his singular focus.
With each encounter, he felt himself transforming. His movements sharpened, his speed increased—he was improving, and he knew it. Whether fast or slow, he realized that this journey of growth was leading him to something far greater than mere victory. He was evolving, not just as a fighter, but as a relentless spirit forged in the fires of perseverance.
Despite all his efforts, the boy found himself trapped in a realm that felt insurmountable, as if it were a world designed to resist his every attempt. Frustration gnawed at him, and he began to wonder if he was simply destined to fail. He knew deep down that he had a tendency to give up easily, yet he was painfully aware that giving in to despair would only lead to greater consequences.
Determined, he pressed on, even as each day yielded the same disheartening result—no matter how he approached his training, he simply couldn't land a hit on his master. He explored every avenue, trying divergent attacks, straightforward strikes, and intricate combinations, yet every effort ended in futility.
After another grueling session, he returned to his master, confusion written across his face. "What's the point of this training?" he asked, his voice tinged with bewilderment.
His master, momentarily taken aback by the boy's earnest question, regarded him carefully. "You can't be serious," he replied.
Still, the boy stood there, not understanding anything.
His master said his voice expression was Bewildered," What the hell?"