The training grounds smelled of sweat, metal, and anticipation. Students pressed close to the railings, eager to see the F-2 Star take on the academy's notorious E-1, Oswin.
Oswin cracked his knuckles and smirked, his eyes glinting with malice. "I hope you're ready to embarrass yourself, F-2. The system must be joking."
Jin didn't respond. He felt the familiar hum beneath his skin — Peripheral Awareness, whispering that something was… off. Subtle vibrations in the floor, the faintest heat from Oswin's muscles, even the drone hovering above, recording every move.
Oswin lunged first. A wild, full-force punch aimed at Jin's head.
Jin sidestepped, letting the momentum carry Oswin past. Without pause, Jin twisted, landing a solid strike to Oswin's ribs. The hit drew a grunt of surprise.
"Lucky shot," Oswin sneered, spinning into another attack. A flurry of punches, low sweeps, and kicks came at Jin, fast enough to make anyone stumble.
Jin moved with a calm precision. He didn't block every hit — some grazed him, enough to sting, enough to remind him that he wasn't invincible. A kick clipped his side; pain flared, but he kept his balance. He dodged a punch to the head, ducked a low sweep, and countered with a sharp palm to Oswin's shoulder.
Oswin hissed. "Not bad… for a low-tier brat."
Jin's eyes narrowed. He feinted left. Oswin lunged. Jin pivoted, grabbed the E-1 star's wrist, and threw him to the side. Oswin hit the floor with a hard thud, the crowd flinching at the sound.
Oswin rolled, sprung back to his feet, and attacked with renewed fury. This time, each strike was faster, more precise, aimed to overwhelm. Jin felt the sting of a punch grazing his jaw, a kick sliding down his thigh.
Pain lanced through him, sharp but manageable. He gritted his teeth. This wasn't about showing strength. This was about survival, observation, and learning the rhythm of Oswin's attacks.
A sudden jab to Jin's ribs made him stumble. He caught himself against a railing, heart hammering, sweat stinging his eyes. Oswin's grin widened, thinking he had cracked the F-2 Star.
But Jin had already noticed the pattern — a subtle hesitation before Oswin's right hook. Timing it perfectly, he dodged, swept Oswin's legs again, and slammed his elbow into Oswin's chest.
Oswin fell hard, chest hitting the floor. The crowd gasped, whispers filling the training hall. Some students couldn't believe what they were seeing — an F-2 Star holding his own against an E-1 powerhouse.
Oswin rose again, staggering slightly, rage twisting his features. He swung wildly, reckless but powerful. One strike grazed Jin's side, pain shooting through him. Another hit brushed past his shoulder. He barely blocked a downward strike to his head.
"You… you're insane!" Oswin shouted, frustration making his voice sharp. "How are you still standing?"
"I told you," Jin said quietly, voice steady despite the thrum of pain. "I'm not most F-2 Stars."
The fight dragged on, each second stretching like an eternity. Jin dodged, countered, and studied Oswin's movements with brutal honesty. The E-1 star was strong, fast, but predictable when someone paid attention.
Finally, Jin feinted left. Oswin lunged, overcommitted. Jin spun low, sweeping Oswin's legs, then slammed a precise palm strike to his chest. Oswin crashed to the ground again, gasping for air.
Jin stood, chest heaving slightly, sweat dripping down his temple. Peripheral Awareness buzzed faintly, reminding him: this was only the beginning. He had survived. Learned patterns. Tested limits. And the system was still watching.
Oswin glared at him, fury burning in his eyes. "This isn't over. Next time… I'll break you."
Jin didn't respond. He simply wiped the sweat from his brow, calm on the surface, calculating inside.
Because tomorrow, the fight would continue — and the system would notice him again.