Allen sat in silence, watching the dancing orange flames of the campfire reflect off the stone walls as Liam and Ethan systematically broke down the psychological defenses of the two bound men.
Suddenly, the pilot stepped away from a humming tactical radio unit near the cave entrance. "Liam, I've successfully established a secure breakthrough link with Base AE7."
Liam paused, glancing over his shoulder. "What's their status?"
"They're already deploying an extraction asset to our coordinates," the pilot reported with a crisp nod.
Liam gave him a definitive thumbs-up. "Outstanding work, Joe. Keep that perimeter locked down."
Turning his head toward the mouth of the cavern, Allen watched as the first pale rays of the morning sun began to bleed over the jagged, snow-capped horizon. He took a deep, slow breath, the freezing alpine air burning his lungs.
I need more training, Allen thought bitterly, his fingers tightening into a heavy fist as he stared at his plastered leg. Number 9 was an absolute monster to take down. If a mid-tier executive possesses that level of devastating physical power, who knows what kind of strength the higher-ranking members are hiding?
His thoughts began to drift back, shifting away from the frozen mountain pass to the quiet, sunlit hallways of his school days just weeks prior.
It was right after the final afternoon exam. Madison had immediately headed off with her friends for a mandatory group study session, leaving Allen to walk back alone.
As he navigated the quiet streets near the academy, he spotted a familiar figure a few yards ahead—Jake, walking at a casual, unhurried pace with both of his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
"Jake," Allen called out, quickening his stride.
Jake paused, turning his head slightly as Allen hurried up to match his pace.
"How are you holding up with the finals, Allen?" Jake asked casually, keeping his eyes on the road.
"Breezing through them," Allen replied with a confident smirk.
The two walked in silence for a few moments. Man, this guy is an absolute fortress to strike up a conversation with, Allen thought, scratching the back of his neck.
Hoping to probe for information, Allen cleared his throat. "Hey... where's that other guy? The one who wears the mask?"
"He left early," Jake answered flatly.
Allen nodded, his expression turning serious. "He's an incredibly elite fighter, isn't he?"
Jake gave a single, slow nod of affirmation.
"I want to meet him," Allen stated firmly.
Jake stopped walking, throwing a sharp glance sideways. "Why?"
"To train," Allen said, his gaze locking onto Jake's. "I need to force my physical endurance past its current limitations."
Jake analyzed him for a long beat before turning back toward the road. "Come to the abandoned training grounds. Seven o'clock, in the evening."
Allen blinked, caught off guard. "Huh?"
"Don't be late," Jake commanded quietly, his figure already fading down the avenue.
That very evening, precisely at 7:00 PM, Allen pushed open the rusted iron gates of the training facility. Standing in the center of the concrete floor, with his back turned completely toward the entrance, was the enigmatic masked fighter.
The masked boy rose to his feet, turning around to face the newcomer.
"So, you actually want to train," the masked boy spoke, his voice muffled but steady behind the fabric.
Allen raised an eyebrow, shifting into a loose stance. "You can talk? Good. As for the training—yeah, let's see what you've got."
The masked boy didn't offer a verbal reply. He simply dropped into a low-profile, flawlessly balanced combat stance.
Before Allen's brain could even register the variable, the masked boy completely vanished from his line of sight. In a fraction of a millisecond, a straight punch materialized mere inches from Allen's face.
Allen reflexively crossed both forearms to block the strike, but the sheer, unadulterated kinetic output was catastrophic.
The concussive force lifted Allen completely off his feet, launching him through the air until his back slammed brutally against the tiered concrete spectator seats high above the training floor.
What the hell kind of raw power is this? Allen thought frantically, coughing as he tumbled down the steps, his forearms throbbing with white-hot pain. To generate this level of power... who the hell is this guy?
Allen pushed himself up, staring down at the quiet figure in the center of the ring. "You're an absolute freak of nature. You're stronger than Steve and Victor combined—"
Before the sentence could even leave his lips, the shadow of the masked boy was already towering over him once more.
Back in the present, inside the cold mountain cave, a sharp, knowing smile cut across Allen's face.
If it weren't for those hellish evening sessions, my body would have broken sooner, against Noah. Once my leg heals... I'm going to ask him to push me even further.
He thought.