The head distributor
Alex's fingers gently traced the textured interior of the gauntlet, marveling at the unexpected softness that contrasted with the rugged exterior. A subtle connection formed between him and the weapon, a tactile reassurance that hinted at the hidden potential it held.
Dan's words cut through the moment, "Now that you have a fitting weapon, let's fight." The metallic symphony of his katana unsheathing added a rhythmic cadence to the air as he assumed a poised samurai stance.
The stage, bathed in a pool of ambient light, became the canvas for their impending duel. As they locked eyes, an unspoken understanding passed between combatants, each acknowledging the gravity of the confrontation.
Dan, the seasoned instructor, clarified, "Abilities are not allowed." Alex, while possessing supernatural abilities, nodded in agreement. The ground rules set the stage for a raw display of skill, stripped of any external enhancements.
With a final directive, Dan's voice boomed, "Begin by attacking me with everything you've got. No holding back!" The command hung in the air, a challenge that beckoned Alex to unleash the full potential of his newfound weapon.
Before committing to an attack, Alex instinctively opted to gather intel on his formidable opponent.
[Dan ????]
[??????]
[???????]
[???????]
The revelation struck like a lightning bolt. Every detail about Dan remained obscured, not a single facet of his identity laid bare. Even his full name eluded Alex's scrutiny. The enigma surrounding Dan extended beyond mere skill – it encapsulated an aura of unparalleled strength and mystery.
Adrenaline surged through Alex's veins, a heady mix of anticipation and trepidation. The gauntlet, snug on his hand, felt like an extension of his will, a conduit for the power yet to be fully understood.
As the first echoes of combat stirred, the dojo's air became charged with an electric energy, promising not only a physical clash but also a revelation of the concealed forces at play. In this intricate dance of combat, the stage was set for a symphony of strikes, parries, and a quest for understanding within the hallowed walls of the martial arts dojo.
The dojo's atmosphere crackled with energy as Alex, propelled by determination, initiated his charge towards Dan. Every step resonated against the polished wooden floor, the sound forming a prelude to the impending confrontation. Alex, despite knowing the pinnacle of his strength lay in his full form, resolved to unleash every iota of power in his human state.
As he closed the distance, an air of anticipation enveloped the combatants. The gauntlet, an extension of his will, exuded an aura of untapped potential. With purposeful intent, Alex unleashed a formidable punch, the gauntlet cutting through the air with a whistle. However, Dan, a master of evasion, moved with an elegance that defied the laws of physics. He sidestepped effortlessly, leaving Alex's fist to meet empty space.
"That was a poor stance when giving a punch," Dan critiqued, his katana now sheathed as he descended gracefully from the stage. The symbolic act of placing the katana on a nearby table conveyed a silent agreement – a duel with the weapon would be a swift and decisive end. This unspoken understanding lingered as Dan returned to the stage, assuming a stance that echoed the traditions of ancient martial artists, a nod to an era before wars reshaped the world.
"Attack," Dan commanded, his voice carrying a blend of patience and readiness.
Undeterred by the initial miss, Alex surged forward once more. The rhythm of the encounter heightened, the echoes of footsteps and controlled breaths resonating within the dojo's sacred space. Another punch was unleashed, a calculated display of strength and precision. This time, however, Dan intercepted with a swiftness that defied the naked eye. His hand closed around Alex's fist, arresting the momentum with a grace that belied the intensity of the clash.
A subtle shift occurred within Dan's composed exterior – a flicker of surprise danced in his eyes. The strength behind Alex's punch surpassed expectations, revealing the latent power that resided within the seemingly unremarkable rank 1 classification. The clash continued, a symphony of motion and technique within the hallowed confines of the dojo. Each move carried the weight of centuries-old martial arts legacy, unfolding in intricate detail as the combatants engaged in a dance that transcended time.
Every punch Alex threw at Dan felt like colliding with an immovable force, akin to striking a solid brick wall. Dan's hand remained steady, effortlessly halting Alex's most potent punches—strikes that could likely incapacitate a rank 2 and inflict severe damage upon a rank 3.
Undeterred, Alex persisted, unleashing a barrage of punches and employing every conceivable move in his repertoire. Yet, each attempt met with Dan's unyielding defense—blocks with hands or deflections with a masterful use of legs.
In a calculated move, Dan directed a swift kick towards Alex's back leg, sending him to his knees. Before he could recover, a decisive knee to the face propelled him backward. Alex, resilient, swiftly rose to his feet, aware that Dan was intentionally holding back. The relentless assault had left him fatigued, his legs wobbling like jelly, and exhaustion making it challenging to maintain a fighting stance.
"I think we should take a break," Dan suggested, keenly aware of the strain on Alex's body. Acknowledging the necessity of rest, Alex agreed, collapsing onto the floor with labored breaths. Despite the intense half-hour engagement, Dan showed no signs of fatigue, a testament to his seasoned mastery.
"I noticed that your fighting style looks familiar. Where did you learn those moves?" Dan inquired, his curiosity piqued by the echoes of familiarity in Alex's technique.
"When I was in the military, I was taught those moves," Alex explained, still trying to catch his breath after the rigorous sparring session.
Dan nodded in understanding, recognizing the telltale signs of military training. The military often recruited young individuals, luring them with enticing offers, only to exploit their strength in various capacities, including perilous assignments like beast crystal hunting.
Curiosity lingering, Dan delved deeper into Alex's past, asking, "What about your parents? Why did they allow you to join the military?"
Alex hesitated briefly, a shadow passing over his features as he recalled painful memories. "They were killed during the first war with the Gins," he revealed with a heavy sigh. "They died protecting a base on Earth."
Dan offered his condolences, expressing, "Oh, I'm sorry about that."
The mention of his parents stirred memories of their tragic demise. Alex vividly recalled the evil grin on the Gin's face as it mercilessly took his parents' lives, an image etched into his mind since childhood. It remained a source of haunting nightmares.
"If you've rested enough, we should continue with round two," Dan suggested, shifting the focus away from the somber topic.
"Sure," Alex agreed, pushing himself up. Despite the physical and emotional toll, a renewed determination flickered in his eyes. Ready to face the next round, he readied himself for another intense bout under Dan's expert guidance, the echoes of military training blending with the martial arts wisdom of the dojo.
.....
In a dimly lit room with gray walls that seemed to absorb any trace of warmth, a sparse collection of paintings depicted an individual standing with folded hands. The air felt hollow, and a solitary figure occupied the room's center. Clad in a military uniform, the man sat in a chair, his legs casually crossed on the desk before him. His hands rested nonchalantly behind his head, and an air of relaxation enveloped his countenance. This was Jim, the head general of the second years.
His serene demeanor, however, was disrupted by a knock on the door, jolting him from his reverie. "Come in," he invited, adjusting himself to a more formal position.
The door creaked open, revealing a boy with vibrant blue hair that defied gravity. His black eyes and semi-carved face hinted at an air of seriousness. Donned in the school uniform, he stepped in and halted before Jim's desk.
"What do you want, that you had the guts to disturb my peace?" Jim inquired, a slight irritation tainting his voice.
"It's important," the boy responded, a sense of urgency in his tone.
"Then immediately tell me and leave," Jim demanded, a hint of impatience coloring his words.
Taking a deep breath, the boy divulged, "One of my boys was caught with the GT drugs by some students. He's currently in the clinic getting healed."
The revelation struck Jim like a sudden storm. "What!" he exclaimed, slamming his hand on the table. Panic etched across his face as he realized the potential repercussions. "That student could possibly report this, and I'm going to be in big trouble. I think the best way is to take care of him silently."
The boy nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation, and proceeded to exit the room, leaving Jim to grapple with the unfolding dilemma in the shadowy confines of his office.
******
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