A golden sun rises over the towering peaks of the Forgotten Dragon Kingdom. The once peaceful capital, long known for its ancient magic and legendary warriors, now hums with the sound of grunts, strikes, and relentless determination.
Six Months Ago...
When Yujiro Hanma, the Beast Incarnate, first decided to stay in the City of the Forgotten Dragon, he didn't ask. He simply declared it—like a storm deciding where to land.
He had already crushed Demon Lords. He had proven that he needed no magic, no blessings, no ultimate skills.
Just his body.
His will.
His fists.
And now, he turned his terrifying presence toward something new:
Teaching.
"No Magic. No Skills. Just You."
It began at the courtyard of the royal palace. Milim, still sore from her humiliating defeat, stood in front of Yujiro, her fists trembling—not from fear, but excitement.
Middray, milim right hand man, stood nearby, his arms crossed, unsure. Dozens of elite soldiers, battle-hardened veterans, looked at each other with doubt.
Yujiro simply cracked his neck and barked:
"Drop the spells. Take off the armor. Barefoot. No enchantments. If you can't fight with your own body, then you can't fight at all."
And thus it began.
The First Month: Break the Illusion
Cardio. Until You Vomit.
They ran.
Up mountains.
Through rivers.
Under scorching sun and freezing rain.
No magic to reduce fatigue.
No potions to heal blisters.
Yujiro didn't believe in shortcuts.
Milim, used to obliterating mountains with a scream, now panted on the dirt, sweat dripping, her muscles screaming.
Middray vomited on the third day. "This is madness!" he had shouted, collapsing.
The soldiers? Many passed out. Some cried.
But Yujiro didn't stop.
"You want power? Then EARN it! Let your body suffer, grow, break, and rebuild."
He made them punch boulders until their knuckles bled.
He tied logs to their backs and made them run for hours.
He forced them into bare-knuckle sparring matches, no healing allowed.
Month Two: Learn the Form
Yujiro introduced them to Boxing and Muay Thai. The strikes were fast, clean, efficient. No waste.
"Your magic's a crutch," Yujiro growled. "I'm giving you weapons that never run out."
Milim, bruised but stubborn, started to pick up the rhythm.
Her footwork improved. Her punches snapped like whips.
She grinned after every bruise.
Middray began to move with precision, no longer relying on brute force.
The soldiers slowly transformed. Their bodies hardened. Their minds sharpened.
Month Four: The Citizens Join
The people began to notice.
Children peeked through fences, mimicking Yujiro's punches.
Parents began doing morning jogs.
Blacksmiths trained between shifts.
Shopkeepers practiced knee strikes behind stalls.
Soon, Yujiro opened the "Beast Camp", a massive open training ground in the heart of the capital. Anyone could enter. Nobility, farmers, even elders.
"No magic allowed in my camp," Yujiro warned. "Leave your pride at the gate."
Kids began sparring.
Parents trained after work.
Citizens who never held swords now stood firm, with calloused fists and steady hearts.
Month Six: Results Speak
The city had changed.
Where once lazy magic ruled, now grit and sweat reigned.
Milim could now land combinations that echoed like thunder. Her roundhouse kick shattered training posts. She no longer relied on her raw magic. Her body had become a weapon.
Middray stood taller, more composed. He now taught footwork to younger trainees.
The soldiers, once cocky, now bowed to Yujiro with deep respect.
He had transformed them.
"My son's not afraid anymore," a mother told a neighbor. "He beat a noble boy in sparring last week!"
"Magic can fail. But fists? Fists don't run out," said an old baker, shadowboxing in the morning sun.
"He taught us how to stand," whispered a girl, wrapping her hands with cloth. "Not just to fight... but to stand tall."
Yujiro had become more than a legend.
He was now a symbol.
The sun set over the city. The camp had closed for the day. Yujiro sat shirtless on a rock, his massive frame steaming from the day's workout.
Milim approached, bruised but smiling. She sat beside him, legs crossed, her hair messy and eyes full of respect.
"Hey," she said. "Can I call you something?"
Yujiro looked at her from the corner of his eye.
"What?"
She hesitated, then smiled.
"Can I call you… Uncle?"
The air was still.
A soft wind passed.
Yujiro smirked.
"Until you master that move I showed you earlier…"
"No."
Milim pouted.
Then grinned.
"Then I'll master it tomorrow."
Yujiro leaned back.
"You better."
The next day....
The midday sun blazed down on the City of the Forgotten Dragon, its golden rays glinting off the sweat-slicked backs of warriors, civilians, and children alike. The air was thick with the sound of fists hitting stone, feet slamming into wooden posts, and voices shouting in rhythm with every strike.
A six-month transformation had reshaped the kingdom. What was once a place of dragon-born pride and relaxed strength had now become a disciplined stronghold of raw physical prowess. The air no longer pulsed with mana—but with something far heavier, more tangible. It was strength born from blood, will, and pain.
Yujiro Hanma stood at the center of it all.
Barefoot, shirtless, his crimson muscle-packed frame rippling like steel wrapped in skin, he towered silently next to Milim who, for once, was panting, her fists bruised and her knees trembling. Dust clung to her clothes, her face red from exertion. Still, she smiled. She had come far—and she knew it.
Yujiro crossed his arms, his eyes cold but satisfied. "You're getting better," he grunted. "Almost... not pathetic."
Milim's eyes lit up. That was the closest thing to praise she had ever gotten from him. "One more time! Let me try the move again!"
Yujiro smirked. "Only if you want another dislocated shoulder."
Suddenly, a soldier sprinted toward them, sweat pouring from his brow. He dropped to one knee and bowed. "Lady Milim! Lady Frey has arrived at the southern gate!"
Milim's eyes sparkled. "Frey!? She's here!? Awesome!" She jumped up and down with excitement, then turned to the soldier. "Bring her in! I want her to see everything!"
Yujiro simply nodded, unimpressed.
The Southern Gate – Moments Later...
Frey, clad in her majestic armor with her signature wings folded neatly behind her, stepped into the city flanked by two elite guards. But what she saw made her stop mid-step.
Her golden eyes widened.
Men and women were training barefoot in perfect synchronicity. Children no older than six threw punches with surprising technique. Grizzled old soldiers practiced in silence, sweat pouring down their faces as they slammed fists into stone pillars. There was no magic. No aura. Only pure effort.
Her mouth parted slightly. "What... happened here?"
A soldier bowed respectfully and guided her through the city. "Lady Milim will explain. She's been... different since the arrival of the human."
Frey raised an eyebrow. "Human?"
As they turned the final corner to the main training grounds, she saw her. Milim, drenched in sweat, her fist wrapped in cloth, bruises along her arms. She was laughing. Smiling. Alive. And next to her...
Frey stopped in her tracks.
The man standing beside Milim had no presence. No aura. No magic. Nothing. And yet—his presence felt suffocating. Like standing in the eye of a storm that hadn't yet moved.
His eyes met hers.
Frey's heartbeat skipped.
"Frey!" Milim shouted, running toward her with a wide grin. "It's been forever!"
Frey smiled softly, but her eyes didn't leave the towering man. "Milim... you look like you've been through a war."
Milim laughed. "Kinda feels like it. Let me introduce you!" She grabbed Frey's wrist and pulled her forward.
"Frey, this is Yujiro Hanma. Soon to be my uncle—once I master that insane move he showed me."
Yujiro's smirk widened slightly, his eyes scanning Frey from head to toe. "So you are a Demon Lord?"
Frey's brow furrowed. "And who exactly are you supposed to be?"
Yujiro took a step forward, hands still in his pockets, voice calm and condescending. "You don't look like much for a Demon Lord."
Frey blinked. Her pride flared. "Excuse me?"
Milim's eyes went wide. "Frey, wait—don't—"
But Frey had already flared her aura. The wind around them howled, stone cracked beneath her feet, the pressure of her full power rushing out like a tidal wave. The sky darkened slightly.
Yujiro didn't blink.
"Don't do it," Milim whispered. "You'll regret it."
Frey stepped forward, angry. "You're very arrogant for a pathetic hum—"
And then time broke.
The world flipped. Sound disappeared. The sky blurred. A single crack echoed through the city like lightning through crystal.
Frey's vision went black.
One Second Later
Frey's body hit the ground with a thud. Face down. Her wings splayed uselessly on the ground. Dust floated in the air.
No one had seen Yujiro move.
Not a soldier. Not a captain. Not even Milim.
Yujiro had struck her with a chop so fast, so precise, that the air didn't even have time to react.
Frey's body lay limp, her nerves screaming in silence. Her brain understood what happened, but her body refused to move.
The city fell silent.
Milim's jaw dropped. "W-What the hell was that!?"
Yujiro cracked his neck lazily. "She needed to understand where she stands."
The soldiers standing nearby were frozen in place. Middray, who had seen firsthand what Yujiro's punches could do, swallowed hard. One whispered, "He dropped lady Frey a Demon Lord... with a single tap."
"He didn't even move," another muttered.
"Was that... wait i should ask him to teach me that move?" someone else said.
Moments Later
Milim rushed to Frey's side. "Get her to the medical wing. Now!" she shouted. Soldiers scrambled forward, gently lifting Frey as she groaned in confusion.
Yujiro turned away like nothing happened.
"Back to training," he said, walking past a group of wide-eyed recruits. "The world's not gonna wait while you stand around pissing your pants."
Even as he walked, they stepped aside like water parting around a stone.
Later That Evening
Citizens gathered in hushed groups, whispers carrying like wildfire.
"Did you hear? He took down lady Frey a Demon Lord."
"With one hit!"
"They say he has no aura because his power's too heavy to be felt."
"My son punched through a brick wall yesterday. Without magic!" said another one...
Fathers trained beside their daughters. Mothers shadowboxed near their sons. The city had changed—and the change had a name.
Yujiro Hanma.
Even the children had a new chant during training:
"Body first. Magic later. Yujiro way is greater!"
And far above it all, in the quiet chambers of the city, Frey sat up in bed, still dazed, rubbing her neck.
"…What… was that…?"
Milim sat beside her, smirking. "That? That was just Yujiro saying hello."
Frey blinked. "He's not human."
Milim chuckled. "He's worse than any monster I've ever met. But he's our monster."
And outside the window, the city pulsed—not with magic, but with fists, sweat, and will.
The Age of Martial Strength had begun.