After that Night

"He was defeated by a mortal."

This time, the silence stayed for much longer.

No one in that room was not confused or dumbfounded. Even Handon had his head forward with his face frowned.

Inside their minds, they all thought if they heard it right.

The calm Rune King has a face full of doubt. He experienced and broke through the realm of a True Rune User. He knew too well how far apart that Rank is from Rank 6 and especially, how far from a mortal. Just reaching Rank 3 makes you an athlete basing on the standard from their original world.

So the Rune King clarified with his calm yet a bit hurried voice, "Are you sure that this True Rune User's opponent is a mortal?"

"Yes, Rune King, I am sure. I was there, although not physically, and witnessed how abnormal that mortal can be." Olmen shivered as he recalled the shock one after another.

"Details..." the Rune King squinted his eyes.

Olmen nodded as he felt the stare of the Rune King while thinking, 'Is the Rune King always had this heavy aura?' and reported every last bit of detail from what he can remember...

After he finished narrating what happened, the whole room was mixed with confusion, amazement, fear, and doubt. They whispered and asked each other if they can stand against that sort of monster and none had the confidence to say they do.

Even the three Rune Masters were talking to each other and discussing how could a mortal be that strong since even the weakest True Rune User holds immense power, but on top of the bed, he could no longer suppress his excitement as he found something more than he wanted for, the Rune King widely smiled.

"Why don't we take him to Gantlet?"

"...." everyone stopped at what they were saying and looked at the Rune King. Chills jolted inside their body and weakened their limbs. The Rune King was fearsome.

…

Back in the original world, in the east neighborhood in the city of Pentoran near the high school.

"Rest for a while! Tomorrow's the test, you can't just tire yourself like that or all that effort will be gone!" a shout across rooms could be heard. At first, it may sound harsh and strict but it was filled with worry and concern.

A mother in her fifties opened a door and saw her son, sitting on the chair, holding a notebook on one hand and a barbell on the other. Even though it was a chilly night, the mother could feel the emanating heat from her son.

"Why are you multitasking like that?! Do you think something will go inside your head if you work that hard?!" the mother shouted again but her son did not react. She seemed at her limits.

"Hey!" she shouted again and walked towards her son with a frown only to see him had his earphones on.

"..." she stared and sighed, "Geez, you still have the capacity to listen to music in that state?" she whispered but upon walking closer, her son finally noticed her and dropped the notebook, on one hand, to take off his earphones.

"Ma?" he said, "What is it?"

"Are you still not tired doing that since you came home yesterday? I thought you skipped school to finally take a rest but what did you do? You doubled your work." the mother pointed at his pile of review notes and a bunch of metal plates lying around. She even pointed at the worn punching bag in his room.

"Nope, I don't need rest. There's plenty of rest at school." the son said straightforwardly.

Upon hearing this, his mother sighed again with worry, "There you go again, saying you don't need rest. Don't you want to take a break? Watch some TV, play some games or just sleep for a while?"

"I don't want to do that in the first place and I am always hanging out with my friends so I already am wasting a lot of time already."

"I know that and.. could you stop doing curls while speaking to your mother? Want me to smash that to your face!?" she tried to take the barbell but when she got a hold of it, its weight suddenly pulled her down and her strength was not enough to stop it from landing on the floor.

Thud*

"Ma!" her son immediately helped her by easily carrying it with one hand.

"Eh?" the mother was surprised to see this and whispered to herself, "I must be getting really old now..." then after pondering and regretting her unhealthy lifestyle when she was on her teens, she continued to scold, "Dinner's ready, don't you dare to take those weights. notes, or sweat with you on the dining table, Harvie!" she walked out of the door and closed it.

"Okay!" the son, Harvie shouted in reply nonchalantly but he took his notes again and continued his curls, "To win, I need effort... If I rest, I lose..." he whispered to himself as he thought of Renir and wondered how his opponent is going to keep up with him. He felt energized while thinking about how he would topple Renir in their first match.

He was oblivious to what was happening.

…

On the same night, in the northern part of the neighborhood, inside Imee's room, there were relentless sounds of whimper and sobbing. A night light was the only source of light in that room and the air conditioner making the air colder than the night but she didn't notice.

Imee was on her bed, curled up while tightly hugging her pillow.

Guilt and sadness were flooding her heart while she couldn't stop worrying. The only that was stopping her was drowsiness.

She regretted and wished something deep within her heart. That if only she had the chance, she would pursue it with all her got. And soon, her sight turned dark as drowsiness too over her body.

.....

Several hours later in the dojo...

It was past midnight and one of Ernanfo's direct disciple, Greg, who had a long chin, squinted eyes and a spiky blonde hair woke up in this dark time at night. He sat up from his bed and looked at his phone which flashed him with the screen's brightness which he saw the time, exactly 4:30 AM.

"Yup, that's seven hours of sleep. Time to go and train again." his tone was neutral and had no emotions behind it. He was living at quarters with the other direct disciples, four, including him to be exact.

Even though he had a strict regime, Greg did not find it awful. In fact, he was grateful to be able to achieve such strength and mastery at such a young age of 24. This was all thanks to their great master, Ernanfo.

He moved out of bed and tidied it up. It was short and accurate. It didn't take him ten seconds to tidy his bed that was on the lower part of a wooden double deck. He was quick on his action but silent enough not to create loud sounds that would wake up his other roommates. He then changed from his pajamas to his proper martial uniform and wore the wooden sandals that are worn by all the disciples. It was heavy so he was careful not to give any sounds in his footsteps.

After leaving the room, he walked down the hallway, filled with night lights on the ceiling, towards his specified training ground. The core building was just the surface and their quarters were actually on the underground. The underground was huge just like an underground base of an ant colony. It was like a dungeon filled with paths and intersections. There are many rooms for special purposes. For storage for weaponry and special vehicles, dorms, research labs, cells, and so on.

it is indeed the first dojo of the biggest gang in the country.

Around the core building where every disciple will compete with their strengths, there is a specified training ground for each type of ability as if it was a university with buildings for a subject.

Greg was a master of controlling his enemy. That is either by creating an illusion using his speed and techniques or hitting vital spots on the enemy. The purpose of his skill was not just for the sake of fighting. He learned the human anatomy in and out and is said to have the same level as their master. He trained his muscle memory to hit the vital spots accurately and as quickly as possible. He has the purpose of incapacitating the enemy without killing them. Control their body, even to the point of their emotions. To be exact, he is a master of torture. Trained to give the most painful blow and still not let the opponent die on the spot. He was the complete opposite of another direct disciple like him, who was a master of killing.

As he makes his way towards his training ground, he passed through a large hall that intersects different paths. There are many doorways to enter and exit from. A stranger would get completely lost in there.

And there, suddenly, he stopped in his tracks as he heard faint footsteps.

"Hmm?" Greg felt a chill. But it was a chilly night so he ignored it. However, before he gets out of that hall, the footsteps came back.

It was strange because Greg had heightened senses than an average person. And he knew something was not right. First of all, the footsteps he was hearing doesn't have the usual tack sounds from their wooden sandals. The origin of that footsteps was clearly walking barefoot.

Greg was put on a defensive posture as he located where the sound was coming from even though it was faint and echoing. But by the moment, it was getting louder and louder. Clearly, it was heading his way. It was slow and must be behind one of the corners of the hallways.

For some reason, Greg felt nervous, uneasy, and anxious. Being a direct disciple of the symbol of the power of the biggest gang in the country, he was confident that any single person wouldn't pose a threat to him even if they have submachine guns on hand. Because he had tons of experience of countering such a predicament even to the point of being surrounded by a dozen people with weapons and still winning unscathed.

The something that was bugging was that, who could've entered the underground part of the dojo?

If they would enter from the outside, they would definitely alert many men that were on guard. And if they came from the backdoor, they would definitely awake their master and they shouldn't have survived that. Greg could only think of one person.

Before he was finished for the day, their master came back in a sour mood and fatigue. A very rare sight to see.

They then learned their master fought someone and he carried him into the cell himself and tripled every lock for insurance. The disciples thought it was unnecessary since someone fighting their master would need days if not weeks to wake up. But they cannot question their master.

Greg prepared himself since he was sure he couldn't defeat someone who could tire their master. His mind was processing what to do.