The final battle begins.
Both boys stand in their stances—tired, beaten—eyes locked on each other.
My whole body is absolutely aching… I don't think I can keep this up much longer.
Gadeon steadies himself, suppressing his heavy breathing, refusing to reveal just how exhausted he truly is. The Mirror technique takes up too much stamina. And since this is my first time using it, I've been going full throttle nonstop…
A sharp pain runs through his legs. My calves… my thighs… they're cramping. Muscles pulling everywhere.
Gage's chest rises and falls as he continues to heave. I've used up too many Ma-qi particles. My Chi-Lungs won't produce any more right now… not unless I rest.
He exhales sharply.
I need to control my breathing.
The heavier I breathe, the more Ma-qi I waste.
His jaw tightens.
But I'm still winded from his attacks… it's hard to breathe.
Gage sniffs the air of the dojo.
He takes a deep inhale.
Then exhales slowly.
Again.
The frantic heaving begins to settle.
His breathing steadies.
Focus returns.
I remember from our lessons… every breath counts.
Each inhale. Each exhale. Intentional. Purposeful.
Up until now, I've only been breathing through my mouth—
limiting the flow of Ma-qi. Like forcing water through a narrow pipe.
But if I use my nose as well…
I open another pathway.
More space for the particles to circulate.
Even if only a small amount flows in… each particle becomes stronger, more effective—no longer bottlenecked.
Using both my nose and mouth… I can absorb and distribute energy far more efficiently.
Gadeon watches him closely.
Gage closes his eyes… tilts his head slightly upward… and breathes.
I could attack him now…
Gadeon's gaze sharpens.
But without flexing, it won't be strong enough to finish him in one blow.
His fists tighten.
I need him to attack first… so I can activate Mirror Man.
That's what will finish him.
A flicker of irritation crosses his face.
Annoying… this technique only works if my opponent makes the first move.
His body aches.
I'm too exhausted to take any more damage.
If I attack carelessly—and he doesn't move first… I lose.
But that's as I am, right?
I'm not myself... and right now I'm not Jason! Everything is soo trippy! Like a dreamI'm not Jason. Jason is a grown man… twenty-five.I don't accept being stuck in this kid's body either.
I'm a fake!
A flash—
Young Jason, sitting in front of a screen.
Watching older men in expensive suits—podcasts, interviews, success, power.
And if I'm a fake…
A slow, dangerous thought forms.
Then I can be whoever I want in this dream-like world.
Something better.
Gage opens his eyes. Gadeon is gone—yet not really.
His reflection stares back at him… but it isn't him.
It's Gadeon, wearing his face.
The same crane stance the dojo drilled into him.
The same height he's always hated.
The same face he can never quite bring himself to face.
"You hate me that badly?" Gage whispers, more to himself than anyone else.
"No, since you started this whole thing, you hate me" Gadeon replies.
"At this point, it's not even about who started it anymore. I've realised I can't keep fighting myself… that's the one thing all of this has taught me."
"What are you talking about?" Gadeon thought. Is he just talking nonsense to buy time and catch his breath?
"We're alike."
Gadeon scoffs. "No, we're not. I'm a man—you're a kid."
"No… that's just what Dad told us, isn't it?"
Gadeon frowns. "Dad? If anything, I'm the 'dad' to all you kids."
Gage lets out a quiet breath.
"That's what I thought too. I thought I was a man to my siblings… but I never was."
He pauses.
"What even is a man? Someone like Dad? Would you really call him one?"
"I wouldn't know. Never had a dad. Never needed one."
Gage's gaze lowers slightly. "I see… so you never saw him as one to begin with." A faint murmur slips from him. "…Maybe I thought that once. Back when he was barely even home."
Gadeon's brows knits together. "Huh?"
"So in our own ways, we both thought we were becoming men… but really, we were just being told what we are, instead of deciding it for ourselves."
Flashbacks surge through Gadeon's mind—echoes of his past as Jason.
All the self-ego, pride-driven, "alpha male" books he once consumed.
The countless videos of older men preaching what it meant to be a man—ones he watched religiously as a child.
His jaw tightens.
Gadeon tries to speak, but nothing comes out. Not a single syllable. His teeth grit instead—frustration building.
From Gage's perspective, it's just his own reflection… gritting its teeth back at him.
Gage keeps talking, staring at himself—at Gadeon wearing his face.
Gadeon drops the crane stance. His composure cracks. His fists clench, agitation seeping through every movement.
"I guess we're both victims of our environments…" Gage says, his expression soft—almost pitiful—as he looks at his own reflection.
But to Gadeon, that look isn't self-reflection.
It's directed at him.
And the word victim—
It snaps something.
His plan—to wait, to let Gage strike first—shatters instantly. Without thinking, he lunges forward.
"I'M NOT A VICTIM!"
Gage doesn't move.
But his body tightens.
A thin scarf of water flexing coils around his limbs, compressing—locking his body in place.
All that breathing earlier… it wasn't for nothing.
He steadies himself.
I was gathering Ma-qi particles. Drawing them in… holding them.
That's what the dojo taught us.
He holds his breath.
Trap the particles inside, and with no way out… they ricochet, searching for an exit.
His muscles tense further.
But if I channel them into my muscles—
They become armour.
Invisible. Internal. Unyielding.
A faint tremor runs through him.
I know how much my punches hurt.
A flash of memory—
Because I used to hit myself.
Again and again… after my parents died.
His jaw tightens.
It hurt. But I got used to it.
So I hit harder.
And harder.
Until even that didn't hurt anymore.
His body locks completely now.
That's why I needed more defense.
It's not difficult. We're taught this young.
A pause.
The only problem…
His chest tightens.
I can't move like this.
If I breathe—even slightly—it breaks.
Silence.
Then—
But it's worth it.
Because…
Gadeon is inches away—his fist flying forward with everything behind it.
A ferocious punch.
He screams as he throws it, like a rabid animal unleashed.
Gage doesn't move.
He takes it.
Completely.
No recoil. No reaction.
And then—he moves.
Gage steps in and grabs him.
Shit… that did nothing!
I got too emotional—
Gadeon's thoughts spiral as he's pulled in.
He's—going for a bear hug?!
His expression shifts—shock creeping in.
No pain.
No damage.
Nothing.
"What… is this?" Gadeon mutters, his voice unsteady.
Gage's arms wrap around him.
Not tight. Not violent.
Just… firm.
"I'm sorry we both had to go through that."