Walker Estate – Morning Light, Training Grounds
The morning sun spilled golden light over the stone corridors of the Walker Estate, its warmth a gentle contrast to the soreness laced through Alex's body.
He winced slightly with every step but walked steadily, dressed in a fresh training uniform. The aches from yesterday's brutal spar still throbbed faintly beneath his skin—but that was all they were now. Faint.
He looked down at his hands—unscathed.
I should still be in bed, he thought, rotating his shoulder, but their medical tech in this world is insane. No potions, no tubes. Just a little pod full of glowing gel and I'm stitched up like nothing happened like all those sci-fi movies I've watched.
He stopped in front of the Spatial Training Room, hand brushing the entrance panel.
Let's see if I still have bones left after today.
The doors slid open.
Inside, the wide circular arena looked the same.....but not empty.
Elder Vonn stood at the center, arms folded behind his back, gazing at the far wall like he'd been waiting for hours.
Alex blinked.
"You're here again?"
Vonn turned, expression unreadable. "I've been assigned to you. Head Matriarch's orders. From now on, you train under me."
Alex raised a brow. "Really? Just like that?"
Vonn shrugged. "You showed potential. he wants that refined. I don't babysit. So if you're staying, prepare to suffer."
Alex's lips twitched. "You mean more than yesterday?"
A thin smile ghosted across the elder's face. "That was play. Today, you start learning to fight, and don't worry I will suppress my strength to that of a first stage throughout".
Alex stepped into the room fully, shutting the door behind him. "Where do we begin?"
Vonn's tone turned firm. "From the beginning. No space tricks. No mana. If you can't fight bare-handed, you're just a flashy corpse waiting to happen."
He walked to the center and gestured for Alex to follow.
"Combat isn't flailing and hoping your power wins. It's movement. Timing. Precision. The one who controls the rhythm, controls the fight. We'll start with the basics—footwork, balance, how to read an opponent's center of gravity. Then we'll cover feints, timing, minimal motion for maximum effect. Mana comes after."
Alex nodded slowly, stretching his limbs. "Alright."
"Your goal today is simple," Vonn said, walking behind him. "Maintain your stance for one hour. Move when I tell you. Shift when I say. Don't fall. Don't lean. Don't think too much."
He kicked Alex's foot gently. "Stance is off. Too wide. Again."
Alex adjusted.
"Back too straight. Again."
He adjusted.
"Now… hold."
And so began the quiet war.
Minutes crawled. Muscles strained. Sweat slicked down his back. Vonn moved around him like a hawk, occasionally jabbing Alex's shoulder or nudging his knee to check balance. Every time Alex faltered, the elder made him reset.
There were no hits. No injuries.
But by the twentieth minute, Alex was shaking.
By the fortieth, every breath burned.
And by the hour's end, when Vonn finally said, "Rest," Alex dropped to one knee, panting.
"How the hell, even with my enhanced body this is still straining" Alex groaned inward
"You're slow," Vonn said bluntly. "But you adapt."
Alex looked up through sweat-stung eyes. "Feels like I'm dying."
"That's how you know it's working."
Alex gave a breathless laugh. "I hate that I'm getting used to this."
Vonn's eyes narrowed, but there was something behind them—approval, maybe.
"Good. Get back up. Your hour's rest starts now."
Alex groaned. "Wait—this wasn't the warm-up?"
"Of course not. That was just standing."
....
Later That Morning
Alex stood again.
Muscles stiff. Back sore. Arms aching.
But he stood.
Vonn circled him like a wolf measuring prey.
"Now that you've stood, let's teach you how not to get folded." The elder clapped once. "We move to evasion."
He struck without warning.
Alex instinctively ducked—but not fast enough. A wooden staff thudded lightly against his shoulder, a tap more than a hit, but it still jarred.
"No mana. No blinking away," Vonn said. "React. Don't flinch."
Another jab.
Alex twisted, dodged—but overcompensated.
"Too much movement," Vonn barked. "You telegraph. Trim it down. Barely shift."
Another swing.
This time Alex leaned—not enough to dodge, but enough that the staff grazed rather than struck.
Vonn grunted. "Better. Now again."
The next hour passed like that. Light strikes. Dodges. Corrections. Always corrections.
Alex's body started responding without him thinking. He wasn't graceful. Not yet. But he was learning.
At one point, he fell flat trying to duck a low sweep.
"Don't fall on your face," Vonn sighed. "That's embarrassing. Even for a Walker."
Alex spat out dirt. "Do you insult all your students, or am I special?"
"You're special. Most quit by now."
"That's oddly flattering."
Vonn smirked. "Back on your feet. Now we begin countering."
Alex blinked. "We're not even halfway done?"
"Barely started."
---
Midday – Combat Drills
Now they were grappling.
Vonn had reduced Alex to a panting mess with minimal movements and effortless redirections. Every time Alex struck, he found his own force used against him. Every time he lunged, he ended up on his back.
Still, Alex got up.
Still, he tried.
Vonn knocked his leg aside, caught his arm, spun him down. Thud.
"You fight like someone who's read about fighting."
"I did read about it!"
Vonn raised a brow. "Start acting like it, then. Mind, not just movement."
Alex gritted his teeth, dust clouding around him as he stood. This time, he watched—not just the elder's hands, but his hips, his feet, the subtle turns of weight.
When Vonn stepped forward, Alex pivoted instead of blocking. The strike still grazed him—but he stayed standing.
Vonn's gaze sharpened.
"Again."
This time, Alex dipped low, arm sweeping out—not to strike, but to unbalance.
Vonn stepped aside like it was nothing, but his lips curled faintly.
"Good. Still sloppy. But good."
---
Afternoon – Tactical Lessons
After a meal and a short recovery in the cooling chamber, Alex returned, only to be handed a board with pebbles and lines drawn across it.
"Chess?" he asked, sitting across from Vonn.
"Combat," Vonn corrected. "Every move has meaning. You'll learn to predict, to trap, to force choices. Use your mind, or you'll waste your talent."
For the next hour, Vonn forced Alex to play dozens of fast-paced scenarios.
Simulations. Traps. Assassinations. Dueling under pressure.
Every loss came with a reason. Every success was picked apart.
"Your instincts are decent," Vonn noted. "But instincts aren't enough."
"I'm starting to think I liked you better when you were kicking me."
"I'm still going to do that," Vonn said, deadpan. "This is just to remind you why."
---
Evening
Just before sundown, Vonn tossed him a wooden short staff.
Alex caught it. "Another spar?"
"No. Just hit the target."
He pointed at a small iron post across the room. Not a dummy. Just a post. Unmoving. Unthreatening.
Alex frowned but obliged. He stepped in and struck.
The moment his foot shifted, Vonn was behind him, tapping his neck.
"Dead."
Alex whirled.
Vonn gestured with the staff. "Every time you move without awareness, you open yourself to death. Your training is to end that. Understand?"
Alex nodded. "Yeah. Loud and clear."
"Good." Vonn stepped back. "Same time tomorrow. Get out of here."
As Alex hobbled toward the exit, sore and soaked in sweat, he muttered under his breath:
"I swear, I'm going to shove that staff up his—"
"I heard that," Vonn called from behind.
Alex didn't even flinch. "I'll say it louder tomorrow."
---
One Year Later
Twelve months.
Three hundred and sixty-five days of waking up sore and sleeping broken.
Alex had long since stopped counting the bruises. His body remembered every lesson Vonn had drilled into him with fists, sticks, throws, and that damned, smug grin of his.
Wake up. Eat. Bleed. Heal. Sleep. Repeat.
Mana? Forbidden
Talent? Restricted
Cultivation?not allowed
It became his reality.
No days off.
No mercy.
Even the mansion healers whispered behind their hands, questioning if Elder Vonn was training a prodigy… or burying one.
Alex, on the other hand, called it child abuse—blatantly, often, and with increasing creativity.
"I'm three years old," he once muttered while dragging his leg across the training room. "This is what toddlers go through in hell."
But he kept going.
Through the cracked ribs. Through the nausea of mana deprivation. Through the constant humiliation of being floored by a single flick of Vonn's wrist.
He endured.
And in that crucible, something changed.
His body adapted. Sharpened. Hardened.
His instincts grew fangs.
The boy who once flinched and flailed was now something else entirely.
---
Training Room
Vonn stood in the center, arms folded behind his back. No staff. No weapons. Just the same terrifying calm he always carried.
Alex stood across from him. Three years old now—but he looked nothing like a toddler.
Lean. Hardened. Eyes clear and alert. Feet planted with purpose.
This time, there was no warm-up. No warning.
Vonn moved.
So did Alex.
They clashed.
Vonn's palm darted forward. A probing strike—fast enough to knock a grown man unconscious.
But Alex tilted his head a fraction.
The palm missed.
Crack!
Alex's knee rose toward Vonn's ribs. Vonn caught it, but not before the impact forced him to step back.
"Hmm," the elder mused. "You've finally got bones behind your moves."
Alex didn't answer,his silver-white eyes were calm, calculating.
"Let's see what you've actually learned," the elder said, finally stepping into a battle stance.
Alex didn't speak. He took a breath—deep, steady. Then he moved.
He shifted forward without warning — no telegraph, no shout.
A blur.
He surged low, fist like a hammer aimed for the solar plexus. Vonn blocked with his forearm, the impact cracking through the room like a whipcrack. Alex didn't retreat — he twisted, letting the momentum carry him into a backhand toward the elder's temple.
Vonn ducked, stepped into Alex's guard, and slammed a knee toward his gut.
Alex twisted midair, narrowly grazing the strike, catching the man's shoulder with his forearm to roll over it — landing behind him in a crouch.
Vonn spun — but too late.
Alex's leg snapped out in a low sweep, catching the back of Vonn's ankle. The elder stumbled, but didn't fall. He turned the stumble into a hop, then—
CRACK.
A brutal elbow came for Alex's temple.
He barely raised his forearm in time, the blow numbing his entire arm.
Alex reeled — then stepped into the pain. He slammed his shoulder into Vonn's gut, driving forward with a primal grunt. They hit the floor in a tangle of limbs.
Alex tried to mount — Vonn twisted, throwing him over.
Alex hit the ground hard. Ribs screamed.
Vonn didn't let up.
A fist came down like an axe — Alex rolled to the side, popped up on his elbow, and lunged with a snapping kick toward the elder's knee. Vonn sidestepped. Too slow.
The elder caught the leg midair, yanked, and slammed Alex into the ground.
The boy grunted — no scream, no cry — and rebounded with a punch toward the elder's liver from the floor. It hit.
Vonn's face twitched. Just slightly.
Alex spun, flipped up from the ground, and this time, didn't charge. He circled. Light on his feet. Breathing ragged, but focused.
He'd learned.
Every beat was a new calculation.
Don't waste motion.
Don't strike blindly.
Read the shoulders. Read the hips. Eyes lie — body doesn't.
Vonn charged this time.
Fast.
A left feint. Right jab.
Alex ducked the jab. Twisted his body — minimal movement — and drove an uppercut into Vonn's sternum.
The elder grunted, grabbed Alex by the back of his collar, lifted, and hurled him.
Alex rolled midair. Landed. Slid.
Dust skidded across the stone.
Blood dripped from his nose, split from a subtle elbow minutes ago. His lip was swelling. His left eye darkening.
But his eyes were still clear. Unyielding.
He charged again.
No roar. No flourish.
A knife-hand to the throat.
A knee to the thigh.
A faint jab — and then a headbutt, sharp and precise.
Vonn staggered.
Then laughed.
The two moved like dancers now — no wasted energy. They traded blows in a flurry, Alex absorbing punishment and giving it back with frightening precision. His footwork was tight. His form near-flawless. Every move was trained. Refined. Earned.
The fight didn't last long — but it didn't need to.
When it finally ended, Alex stood panting, face bruised, arms trembling, one eye nearly shut — but upright.
Vonn stood across from him.He raised a hand. "Enough."
Silence.
Only the sound of Alex's breathing filled the room.
Vonn approached slowly, placing a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder.
"You're not just talented, Alex. You're terrifying."
Alex coughed, trying not to wince as his ribs protested.
"Just skilled child abuse, Elder."
Vonn barked a laugh. "Maybe. But now... now you're a warrior."
Alex looked down at his bruised knuckles.
"but still I've taught warriors who spent five years too reach this point"
Alex met his gaze
" I spent one"
"You did," Vonn said. "With no mana. No talent. No shortcuts."
Alex offered a bitter smile. "Just child abuse."
Vonn laughed.
"And now you're a monster."
Alex shook his head. "Not yet."
The elder grinned wider. "True. But you're no longer prey"
"Rest next week, we begin the full comprehensive training"
Alex froze "what have I been doing all this time?"
Waving his hand dismissively as he walked out" Just adding mana manipulation training"
Alex collapsed on his back as a single year flowed down his eyes
"Damn".