Two days later during the usual group training sessions. During the past few days, the tension in the group kept on lingering like a deep wound that just couldn't be ignored. Hyeolmu had it rough in the group early on, as he had gotten the resentment of the people instead of the welcoming atmosphere Mia wanted.
He felt out of place in the group, even though he never expected to be welcomed, nor him being unwelcome was anything new to him.
But as the tension grew, the pressure on Mia grew stronger and stronger. Now the group seemed out of place when compared to her usual self.
"Hey!"
A voice from out of nowhere, filled with unfiltered resentment and clear bloodlust, completely directed at the unsuspecting Hyeolmu.
"Are you talking to me?" Hyeolmu responded, his voice filled with uncertainty and curiosity, and his face showed a sinister smile unbeknownst to him, creeping the shit out of the child.
Creeped out, Kang Dalmu — the boy who called him out — stuttered slightly. "Uh… u-uhm… I-I-I just w-w-wanted t-to ask i-if y-you're… up f-for a s-spar… o-or s-something…"
"A spar?" Hyeolmu questioned.
"Y-Yea… y-yeah, a spar. W-What, too good to train with us? S-Since it's a training session and y-you're one of us now… w-why don't you s-stop sitting there and… and p-practice like everyone else?" Dalmu said, still shaken by the previous chilling smile.
"Okay…" Hyeolmu said, standing up from the rock he sat on. "Let's move to the stage." He moved with confidence, mind fixed and his emotions empty. Just giving an average vibe but quite confident.
"What was that creepy smile just now? Was it just my brain playing tricks on me? Anyways, that doesn't matter. It's not like he could put up a fight against me who's ranked 121st. I will be sure to put him down in his place and make sure he never ever gets to lift his head again. And maybe I can curry favor with Woon-hyeok." Dalmu thought to himself, having a weird smirk on his face as though he had already won the spar as they moved towards the stage.
"So what are the rules here?" Hyeolmu asked while doing some stretches.
Crowds started to gather, curious about the outcome. Most were inclined towards Dalmu's one-sided victory. As what can one expect from a weak fallen-sect boy? Murmurs filled the atmosphere, intensifying continuously, drawing more and more people in.
"What's happening here?" a voice came from behind.
"Mia! What are you doing here?" one of the people asked, surprised by the sudden appearance of Mia.
"Can't I come to the arena anymore? Anyways, it's our group practice session. What's happening over there, and why are so many of the children gathering?" she asked, curious.
"H-Hmm… i-it's… it's H-Hyeolmu D-Dalmu. H-He's s-sparring w-with the n-new guy… W-What's his n-name a-again? Y-Yeah… H-Hyeolmu…"
She forces a swallow after almost saying too much.
"Wait, Dalmu is sparring with Hyeolmu? Does he want to die or something?" Mia said, worried — not for Hyeolmu like everyone would have expected, but for Dalmu. She rushed towards the stage immediately, where the rules were still being said.
"Dalmu, what do you think you are doing? Stop right now before things get too complicated," Mia said, worry filling her voice.
"So she cares so much about him that she wants to stop the match? Too bad I can't stop now… I must teach him a lesson," Dalmu thought to himself, a big smile carved on his face.
"Miaa, you don't have to worry, it's just a harmless spar. It won't hurt anyone, will it? We even agreed to decide the winner based on when one gives up," Dalmu said, smiling and trying to sound convincing.
"Listen, I will only say this: if you get hurt because of this, don't tell me I didn't warn you," Mia said, having an awkward smile on her face.
"Okay, so let's go over the rules again. The match will be determined by whoever gives up first or whoever gets knocked out first. We are to avoid using killing techniques — just a safe fight," Dalmu said, loosening his shoulders, wearing a confident grin, while Hyeolmu simply stood there, posture relaxed, almost disinterested.
"Alright then," Dalmu said, sliding into stance. "Let's have a clean match."
Hyeolmu didn't reply. He merely lifted his eyes once — calm, unreadable.
A few students whispered at the edges of the ring.
"Dalmu's got this."
"Yeah… Hyeolmu looks like he barely slept."
Mia, however, instinctively took a step back.
"Something's… wrong," she muttered.
Dalmu didn't wait. He dashed forward with a sharp burst of footwork, his palm slicing toward Hyeolmu's temple — fast, clean, practiced.
Thwack.
Hyeolmu blocked with one hand, hardly moving.
Dalmu blinked.
That was one of his faster openings. Yet Hyeolmu's expression didn't change — not even a flinch.
Dalmu launched a second strike. Then a third. A flurry of precise blows, each sharper than the last.
Pak. Pak. Pak.
Every attack was stopped. Effortlessly. Hyeolmu's arms barely shifted, as if brushing away dust.
Whispers grew louder.
"…Wait, is Hyeolmu actually blocking all that?"
"No way. Dalmu's not even making him step back!"
Dalmu clicked his tongue and leapt back, forcing confidence into his voice.
"Heh… fine. I'll stop playing around."
He surged forward with a full-power shoulder rush, aiming to overwhelm the underdog in one decisive burst.
That was when it happened.
Hyeolmu's posture straightened.
His eyes sharpened.
His breathing slowed — becoming frighteningly steady.
Dalmu didn't see the movement.
He only felt the impact.
BOOM—!
A single palm strike — light, almost casual — landed on his abdomen. But the force blasted him backward several meters, skidding him across the stone floor.
Everyone froze.
"…What just—"
"Was that Hyeolmu?"
"No… impossible…"
Dalmu coughed, staggered back up, shaking.
"H-How…? That wasn't supposed to—"
He couldn't finish.
Hyeolmu was already in front of him.
He didn't dash, or leap, or explode with speed.
He simply appeared, calm as the morning breeze.
Dalmu swung in panic.
Hyeolmu tilted his head — barely. The punch missed by a hair.
Then the underdog spoke for the first time.
"Dalmu… I think I'll take this seriously now."
Dalmu's stomach dropped.
Before he could react—
THUD!
A sweep kick.
WHAM!
A precise elbow to the chest.
PAK!
A palm strike under his chin.
Each hit was clean, controlled, effortlessly destructive. Dalmu couldn't block a single one.
The courtyard filled with gasps and stunned silence.
"He's— he's toying with him…"
"This can't be the same Hyeolmu we know."
"Mia… did you know he was this strong?"
Mia didn't answer. Her face was pale.
Dalmu dropped to one knee, arms trembling from trying to guard.
Hyeolmu stood over him, relaxed.
"Give up," he said quietly. "Before you get hurt."
Dalmu swung again out of pride —
But Hyeolmu caught his fist mid-air.
And squeezed.
Not painfully.
Just enough to show the hopeless difference in strength.
Dalmu's knees hit the ground.
"I… I give up…" he forced out, breath shaking.
Silence.
Then the courtyard erupted.
"What the—"
"Hyeolmu? HYEOLMU!?"
"No way this was a spar between equal ranks!"
Hyeolmu stepped back, releasing Dalmu gently, almost respectfully. His expression returned to its usual calm — as if nothing special had happened at all.
But everyone who witnessed it understood:
Hyeolmu wasn't the underdog.
He didn't win his last match through luck.
He just finally decided to show his true strength.
To be continued…