The cold morning air clung to Kahel's clothes as he jogged alone along the edge of Vouille quiet countryside. Mist curled around his ankles like lazy spirits, fading with each step.
His breath came in steady bursts. Not tired. Focused.
Each movement was sharp—controlled.Each stance flowed into the next.
He wasn't training to fight bullies.
He was training to break the world.
By the time the sun crept over the rooftops, Kahel had returned to the small apartment he shared with his sister. Mia was still asleep, curled up in blankets far too big for her.
He made breakfast—eggs and toast—and left hers warm on the table with a sticky note:"Don't forget your math notebook. I'll be back by five."
At school, Kahel blended in like a shadow under sunlight.
Quiet. Distant. Polite enough to avoid suspicion.
He sat by the window in every class, eyes drifting between the chalkboard and the sky.
In math, someone threw a crumpled paper ball at his head.
"Oi, Kahel, still mute or just too dumb to talk?"
It was Matis, the same loudmouth who had failed two years in a row and blamed the world for it. The other students laughed. Not maliciously—just to feel like they weren't the target.
Kahel didn't respond.
He didn't flinch.
He stared out the window, counting the number of clouds.
After school, he walked home alone. Same path, same rhythm.
But this time—Something felt off.
The street was empty. No cars. No birds. Just the soft tick... tick... of a can rolling across the pavement.
He stopped.
Kahel's hand tightened slightly.
From the alleyway, a man stepped out. Thin, dressed in a worn hoodie and ripped jeans. But his eyes—
They weren't normal.
Kahel knew that look.He'd seen it once in a mirror.A hunger hidden behind control.
"You've got a good amount of qi for a kid," the man said with a crooked grin. "You're not part of the association, are you? Self-taught?"
Kahel didn't answer.
He adjusted his school bag over one shoulder, calmly.
"I don't want to fight," he said.
"Oh, but I do."
The man rushed forward.
Faster than any normal human should be.
Kahel's body reacted instantly—years of instinct bursting free. He slid back, pivoted, and struck with a clean, sharp elbow aimed at the man's chest.
The hit landed—But the man didn't move.
He grinned wider, catching Kahel's wrist.
"Too weak," he whispered.
Kahel's eyes narrowed. He dropped low and swept the man's legs—this time putting force behind it.
The stranger slammed into the pavement with a thud.
But he rolled up, laughing.
"You've got spirit. And control. But you're not there yet, kid. You'll die the second you meet someone serious."
Kahel raised his fists.
"I'm not looking for trouble."
"No," the man said, vanishing into the shadows behind him, "but it's looking for you."
Kahel stood alone on the empty street, heart steady but mind racing.
Someone had sensed his qi.
Far above, on the roof of a half-collapsed building, Jalior watched in silence. His long coat danced in the wind.
"He's still raw," Jalior muttered, eyes like glass. "But the core is there."
He turned, vanishing into the dusk.