"Then stop talking," Arthur said as he raised his hand, taking a stance. "And put those gloves on, start punching."

Ryan took one deep breath as he slid his hands inside the gloves and stepped forward. His head was already racing faster than a cheetah. He threw his first jab—which was clean and fast. The sound of the jab was sharp when it hit the pad. Arthur didn't even blink.

"Again," Arthur said.

Ryan threw another jab. "Just like that?" he asked as he swung his arm.

"Harder."

Ryan exhaled sharply and hit the pad again, using his hips to generate more strength—this time the jab was followed by a cross.

Arthur blocked it with ease; his usual calm demeanor was still there. "This one is better than before; keep swinging your arms more and try to generate a bit more strength in your punches."

Within moments, the steady rhythm filled the air. The sharp thwack of gloves meeting pads echoed through the wide gym, bouncing off the walls.

Ryan started to find a rhythm; his movements started to get sharper, his punches quicker. But Arthur's calm face never changed.

"Keep your guard up," Arthur instructed, voice firm. "Don't swing wide; you're leaving a way for the opponent to break into your guard."

Ryan grunted between his teeth. "Yes, Arthur."

Arthur didn't smile, but there was something that faintly approved Ryan's work in his eyes. "Again."

Ryan went in for another set of moves—jab, cross, and then it got followed by a cross—but his arms slowly started to feel that shallow burn in them. His shoulders ached; sweat dropped from his forehead as it rolled down to his neck.

Arthur blocked every one of his hits and countered it once, and Ryan barely dodged it in time.

"Faster, your movements are getting sloppy," Arthur said simply.

Ryan bit his lower lip as he hit the pads again and again—every punch echoed in his ears, his breath started to get ragged, and his lungs started to scream at him. But he didn't stop; he kept hitting the pad again and again.

His gloves hit the pad—the sound of it was like thunderclaps rolling in the hall room. Arthur's movements were quick; they stayed steady. His feet barely shifted from one place, and his eyes were locked on Ryan with laser focus, scanning his every swing.

After ten minutes, Ryan's arms started to feel like they'll crumble any second. His punches started to slow down, his arms losing their strength. His breath came out ragged, making it difficult to breathe.

Arthur lowered his pads as he looked at Ryan's tired self; his voice came out low. "You're done for now; take a bit of rest, and then we continue."

Ryan dropped onto the mat, lying as he let all of his body loosen up a bit; a deep sigh of relief left his mouth. "Ugh... this feels so good; the warmth of this mat is real!!"

Ryan stared at the ceiling for a bit as his voice came out. "You're a monster."

Arthur pulled off the pads and set them aside. "If I actually were, you'd be dead by now."

"Comforting," Ryan muttered, wiping his sweat with the sleeve of his right arm.

Arthur turned towards Maya, who was stretching a bit by the corner by herself. "You," he said. "Your turn now."

Maya blinked as her head turned towards Arthur instinctively. "Me?" her voice came out.

Arthur crossed his arms. "You said you wanted to train, right?"

Her grin widened a bit. "Fine, let's ball then."

While Arthur went to hang a target pad, Maya began to warm up a bit. She tied her hair back into a tight ponytail, her muscles moving fluidly under her tank top. She started with small leg swings, then the swings turned into faster kicks; the moves were building a small rhythm.

The sound of her foot hitting the pad post echoed through the gym. THUD! THUD! THUD!

Ryan sat up slowly, watching her. "Damn, she's way better than me..."

[Host: of course she'll be better than you; you're just a beginner and she is 5th in the Kickboxing Club.]

Ryan gave a small nod. 'You don't have to break my morale, blue-screen bastard.'

[Telling you the truth is my work, Host. (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)]

Maya stepped back, then spun—her heel cutting through the air in a sharp roundhouse that landed cleanly against the target. Thwack.

She landed smoothly on her left foot; her breathing rate was steady, and sweat was gleaming on her forehead. She smiled, clearly proud of her moves.

Arthur nodded once. "Decent, keep your hips aligned next time."

"Decent?" Maya asked, mock-offended. "That kick of mine was definitely perfect."

Arthur didn't look at her; his voice came clean. "Even decent is exaggerated. Have you ever seen how Leon performs the same moves? You're not even close to it. You want to get stronger and remain in your small bubble that was perfect?"

Maya didn't say anything, but a glint of motivation was in her eyes; she gave a small nod.

Ryan laughed weakly from the floor. "You'll never win an argument with him, Maya."

"Watch me," she said, brushing a strand of hair from her face before going back to her training.

The next twenty minutes passed in rhythm—the soft sound of fists hitting the pads, the sharp smack of kicks striking the post, and the heavy breathing of her effort. The gym suddenly got filled with the energy of progress—steady, relentless, and raw.

Finally, Arthur called it. "That's enough training."

Ryan let out a soft sigh of relief as he collapsed back on the ground. "Thank God."

Maya bent over, hands on her knees, gasping between words. "I… actually… like this."

Ryan blinked at her. "You like this? You're fucking insane."

She smiled faintly. "It's not about liking it or not. It's about knowing that you're getting stronger."

Arthur went to his gym bag as he grabbed his towel, wiping his neck and wrists. "She's right on that," he said. "You both are improving slowly."

Ryan smiled faintly. "You mean that I'm not complete trash anymore?"

Arthur's gaze shifted towards Ryan, his voice flat. "You're half trash now."

Ryan groaned, clearly not satisfied with it. "I'll take it for now."

Maya laughed, her cheeks still flushed. For a moment, it felt light—like they were just students training after class, not people preparing to face something darker.

But that moment didn't last long.

Because then, a voice cut through the quiet hall of the gym.

"Hey."

It wasn't loud, but it carried a weight behind it—confidence, power. The kind that made everyone instinctively look up.

The three of them turned towards the gym entrance. The doors stood half-open, sunlight spilling in from behind the figure standing there.

He was tall—his outline sharp against the light, his posture relaxed but commanding. His tone had the kind of ease that came from someone who never lost fights, someone who knew his strength.

Arthur's head tilted slightly, his eyes narrowing. Maya's expression tensed, while Ryan blinked, still catching his breath.

The figure stepped forward, shoes clicking softly against the polished floor. The light caught his face for the first time—a calm, composed smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes.

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