"Bring it on, kid. I'm in no rush," Ben said, his voice a low rumble.
Ethan didn't wait. He lunged, driving a heavy fist toward Ben's solar plexus. The strike landed with a dull thud, but Ben didn't even flinch—he simply absorbed the momentum.
"Look at that, Jake," Yuri whispered, her eyes narrowed. "Ben's body is like reinforced steel."
Jake didn't respond. He kept his head down, his eyes hooded as if he were barely awake, though his focus never left the floor.
Surprised by the lack of impact, Ethan pivoted. Ben countered with a low, bone-breaking kick toward Ethan's calf, but Ethan reacted instantly, tucking his leg and snapping into a backflip to reset the distance.
"Your blows are heavy, boy. I'll give you that," Ben grunted, adjusting his stance.
"Ben's endurance is legendary," Julian, one of the guards, murmured from the sidelines. "He can fight through injuries that would put a normal man in the ICU."
"And don't forget," Antonio added, "his counters hit like a sledgehammer."
Ben went on the offensive. He launched into the air, a flying roundhouse aimed at Ethan's ribs. Ethan managed to get his arms up in a cross-block, but the sheer force sent him skidding back three paces, his boots hissing against the floor.
"Ben is winning this, Jake," Yuri said, glancing at her companion.
A small, knowing smile played on Jake's lips. "Yuri, it doesn't matter how much power is behind a strike if it never finds its mark. Useless."
Yuri frowned and turned back to the ring. Ben was a whirlwind of violence—plunging in with a barrage of punches, knees, and tactical strikes—but Ethan was a ghost. He slipped, ducked, and parried every technique, his movements fluid and economical.
Ben leaped again, spinning in mid-air for a devastating high kick. Ethan dipped beneath the arc of the strike, his fist already cocked back.
Yuri smirked. "It's over. Ethan knows he can't break through Ben's conditioning. He's going to exhaust himself."
"Ben is already finished," Jake countered.
Yuri looked at him, bewildered. "What?"
"No matter how much you train your muscles or harden your skin," Jake said, his voice cold and analytical, "there is one structural weakness you can never condition: the bridge of the nose."
In the center of the room, the air seemed to still. Ethan's fist drove forward with surgical precision, bypassing Ben's guard and connecting flush with the center of his face. The sound of cartilage giving way echoed through the hall. The impact didn't just stop Ben; it sent him reeling back, his legs turning to jelly before he crashed against the far wall, out cold.
Silence fell over the training space.
"Winner: Ethan," Harrison announced, his voice breaking the tension.
"Smart move," Antonio admitted, shaking his head. "Knowing he couldn't break the body, he went for the neurological shock of the nasal strike."
"I acknowledge the kid," Julian added. "He's got vision."
The old man smiled and looked toward Jake. "Impressive analysis. It unfolded exactly as you predicted."
Yuri gave a stiff nod. "You were right, Jake. He's earned his place."
The guards—Antonio, Noah, Julian, and Harrison—closed in around Ethan, offering begrudging nods of respect. A woman stepped out from the shadows of the corridor, and Ethan's eyes widened.
"Madison? When did you get here?"
"I saw the whole thing," she said with a faint smile.
Yuri stepped forward, her expression unreadable. "Your name was Ethan, right?"
Ethan nodded.
"You did well. These men aren't street brawlers; they're professionals. And yet..." She took a deep breath. "You're selected."
The old man patted Ethan on the shoulder, while Allen beamed with pride. Jake remained seated, his gaze locked onto Ethan like a predator studying new prey.
Allen gave Ethan a quick tour of the military-grade facility before Yuri and the old man departed. Madison lingered in the background, while Jake stayed in his seat for another half hour before vanishing into the upper floors.
By 11:00 PM, after a quiet dinner on the second floor, the adrenaline had finally begun to fade.
"It's late. You lot should head out," Harrison said.
Ethan, Madison, and Allen began walking toward the exit. Ethan glanced back and saw a door click open. Jake stepped out, his eyes meeting Ethan's for a fraction of a second—a cold, unreadable stare—before Ethan turned and walked into the night.
The three of them climbed into the car Yuri had prepared.
"Ethan, you stunned them," Allen said, still buzzing. "That woman, Yuri... she's never acknowledged me. She always says I'm not 'refined' enough to guard Madison. But you? You're in."
Madison laughed softly, but Ethan remained quiet.
"Madison," Ethan asked, "is Jake a relative of yours?"
She shook her head. "No. Just a schoolmate."
"He was there today," Ethan pressed.
"Where? I didn't see him at all," Madison replied, surprised.
"He was sitting right next to Yuri and your grandfather," Ethan said.
"Oh, that," Allen cut in. "He's just someone Grandpa knows, like you. I didn't even realize it was Jake; I wasn't really paying attention to the VIP seats."
Ethan nodded, but the feeling in his gut wouldn't leave. What is his problem?
When Ethan finally reached home, the house was dark. He slipped inside, not wanting to wake anyone or explain the new job just yet. He found his mother, Selena, asleep on the couch. A single tear was drying on her cheek.
"...not supposed to happen..." she murmured, her brow furrowing in her sleep.
Ethan frowned, reaching out. Is it a fever?
The moment his hand touched her forehead, she bolted upright, eyes wide.
"Mother? Are you okay?"
The panic in her eyes faded as reality set in. She took a shaky breath, realizing it was only a dream. "Yes, honey. You're back? Have you eaten?" Her gaze softened instantly.
"I've eaten, Mom. You should go to bed."
She nodded, though she still looked pale.
"Mother, is everything alright? You can tell me."
"Just a bad dream, Ethan. Nothing to worry about. Now, go get some rest," she said, patting his head.
Ethan watched her head to her room, then went to his own. After a hot shower, he stood on the balcony, the cool night air hitting his skin. He looked out at the city, his mother's sleep-muttered words echoing in his mind.
"Was it really just a bad dream?" He whispered to the dark.