Saka finished his work not long after.
Henry and Jimmy were still passed out on the ground, breathing, unmoving.
That left one problem.
How to get them back to the Wyndham family house.
Luckily, Alex didn't have to deal with that alone. Tamsin, Merrick, and Gwen stepped in without much talk. No questions. No complaints. They handled it like cleanup duty—quiet and efficient.
Together, they moved Henry and Jimmy out.
No fanfare. No witnesses.
They dropped them off at one of the Wyndham family's many properties, choosing a random location among the estates. Somewhere familiar enough to feel safe. Somewhere distant enough to raise questions later.
Then they left.
---
The next day, Henry woke up with his head pounding.
It felt like something was pressing from the inside, squeezing his thoughts tight.
"What the fuck… what is going on in my head?" Henry groaned as he forced himself upright.
He clenched his teeth and circulated his qi, trying to flush the pain out. The dizziness dulled, but it didn't disappear. It lingered. Heavy. Wrong.
Nearby, Jimmy stirred.
He rolled onto his side and let out a weak grunt as he pushed his large body up from the ground, palms shaking slightly.
"What… are… we doing here?" Jimmy muttered, his voice low and rough.
His head spun as he spoke. The world felt tilted, like something was missing but refusing to show itself.
Jimmy turned quickly and spotted Henry.
Their eyes met.
Henry frowned. His instincts flared before his thoughts could catch up.
"I don't know," Henry said, forcing himself fully to his feet in one smooth motion. "But we better get out of here before the others see us like this."
Jimmy didn't argue. He nodded once and dragged himself upright.
The sun was already high in the sky.
Not deep afternoon, but far past early morning.
Late morning.
Jimmy and Henry found themselves in a wooded area filled with tall, thick trees. The air was cool and damp, leaves crunching under their boots. Even so, they both knew where they were. This was still Wyndham family land—just one of the sections no one had bothered to develop yet.
No buildings.
No roads.
Just old ground.
They didn't linger.
The two broke into a run, pushing through the trees, weaving past roots and low branches. Their breathing steadied as muscle memory kicked in. It didn't take long before the woods opened up.
They burst out into a wide training field.
The place was already alive.
Clan members filled the area, spread out in groups. Some traded blows. Others practiced techniques. Qi flared in flashes—bursts of wind, sparks of force, heavy impacts hitting reinforced ground.
At their usual spot—cleaner land, flatter terrain, with specially reserved training equipment—Zephyr stood with Lennox and Isla. Gavalich was with them, overseeing their training as always.
They were mid-drill.
The moment Jimmy and Henry stepped closer, heads turned.
Eyes locked on them.
Isla was the first to speak.
"Were you so embarrassed by what happened yesterday that you had to run off and hide your face in shame?" Isla said, his voice sharp as he stared straight at Jimmy, disgust clear on his face.
Jimmy froze.
"Yesterday?" he asked slowly, confusion slipping into his voice before he could stop it.
Isla scoffed.
"Asshole. You're really going to pretend you don't remember?"
"Enough."
Gavalich's voice cut through the air, firm and heavy, shutting Isla down instantly.
Jimmy turned and looked at Henry.
Henry shook his head once.
"I don't know what he's talking about," Henry muttered, keeping his voice low.
Lennox frowned.
"You too?" he said, eyes narrowing.
Before anything else could spiral, Gavalich stepped forward again, placing himself between them and the others, his presence forcing the tension to stall.
"You two, go put something meaningful to the eyes," Gavalich said, pointing outward without looking back.
Jimmy and Henry didn't argue. They turned and started moving, cutting across the training field and slipping between scattered groups of clan members.
Their steps slowed.
Not by choice.
Someone was walking straight toward them.
He stood out immediately. Too clean. Too calm. One of the few wearing the golden dojo cloth instead of standard training gear. No rush in his stride. No tension in his posture.
Alex.
Both of them stopped.
Henry's heart slammed hard against his ribs, fast and wild, like it was trying to escape his chest. Jimmy felt the same sudden tightness, his breath hitching without warning.
'What is this?'
'Why does my body feel like this?'
Jimmy swallowed and took a step back before he even realized it.
'Why is that pissed-off bastard walking toward me?' he thought, his muscles pulling away on their own.
The reaction didn't go unnoticed.
Several of the Wyndham kids caught it immediately, eyes narrowing as they watched the two freeze up.
"Would you look at that," Isla said with a crooked grin. "It's like he's about to piss himself."
A few quiet snickers followed.
Zephyr didn't react. He gave them one brief look, his face unreadable, then turned away as if none of it mattered to him.
Alex kept walking.
He passed right between Jimmy and Henry.
Neither of them moved.
They stood there stiff and silent, bodies locked, eyes forward, like prey pretending it hadn't been seen.
Alex didn't look back.
'So it really worked,' he thought as he walked on.
'Muscle memory took hold fast.'
Then his brow tightened slightly.
'But if this is how they react every time they see me…'
'That's too much. Even for me.'
Saka had planted what he called muscle memory deep inside Jimmy and Henry's bodies. They didn't understand it, and they didn't need to. Any time they saw Alex, fear would rise on its own. No reason. No warning. Just instinct.
Looking at the effect now, Alex felt it was a bit much.
'If I know how prideful Henry and Jimmy are,' he thought,
'they won't even admit to each other what they felt just now.'
That settled it for him.
Alex stopped paying them any real attention. He had enough on his plate already, and worrying about two broken enemies wasn't worth the time.
Days passed.
Days turned into weeks.
Weeks rolled forward, steady and unkind, until they were already pushing close to two full months.
Throughout that time, Alex kept a strict routine.
During the day, he trained within the Wyndham clan. He worked openly, refining his control and showing cleaner execution of the Buster skill. Every strike was tighter. Every step more deliberate. Not perfect, but better than before.
Along the way, he was given a few additional techniques to support his training. Small things. Practical things. Tools meant to shape his foundation.
Just as Lucius had warned him, the training had stepped up. It was harder now, more demanding. Still, it wasn't close to the brutal standard of the Dragon Roar clan. Not even halfway.
When the day's training ended, Alex didn't rest.
He crossed over to the Dragon Roar base.
There, he worked on the Reflection Effect technique. Over and over. Failure after failure. Bruised arms. Shaking control. Slow improvement that only showed itself after countless repetitions.
This pattern became his life.
Wyndham clan by day.
Dragon Roar by night.
And it had been this way for the past six months.
Alex could feel the difference now.
His body was tougher.
His will sharper.
His tolerance for pain far higher than before.
None of the beatings or strain had gone to waste.
On one particular day, Lucius stood atop the mansion's roof, hands behind his back, eyes lowered as he watched the activity below.
The sun was sinking low, pulling the day toward its end. Long shadows stretched across the training field as the evening sky bled into soft orange and fading blue.
Lucius stood there, calm and steady.
With him were John Wyndham, Jake, and Jim.
The triple-Js.
Lucius watched the field while he spoke.
"The past two months have been heavy," he said. "And expectations have clearly risen, from what I'm seeing."
John nodded slowly. There was a satisfied look on his face as his eyes followed the sparring below.
Zephyr and the others were still fighting, trading blows with several clan members. Movements sharp. Footwork clean. No wasted motion.
Alex, however, wasn't among them.
He sat off to the side, legs crossed, eyes closed. Breathing slow. Body still. Recovering, absorbing, recalibrating.
John glanced at him once, then looked back to Lucius.
"Now that we're ready," John said, "how exactly do we get into the tournament? We weren't invited."
Lucius smiled. Not wide. Just enough.
"We don't need an invitation," he said. "Not if we have this."
He reached into his coat and flashed a card in front of John.
It was the size of a credit card, sleek and solid. Blue and silver blended across its surface, sharp and clean. Several jagged lightning bolts were etched into the body of the card, alive with detail.
Even in Lucius's hand, tiny sparks of lightning cracked and danced around it.
John's eyes narrowed.
"They won't deny us entry when we show this," Lucius said, confidence clear in his voice.
A few days remained.
Just a few days before the Paragon Battle Royale began.