On a gray Monday morning the following week, Ash found herself in unfamiliar territory.
Not outside.
Inside.
The registrar’s office building of SHU.
She stood just beyond the sliding glass entrance, near one of the concrete pillars by the wall. Students moved in and out around her in loose clusters—backpacks slung over shoulders, coffee cups in hand, conversations overlapping in low chatter.
Ash didn’t belong in this setting.
Black leather pants hugged her legs. Heavy boots planted firm against polished tile. A faded rock band hoodie hung over her fra, hood pulled up low enough to shadow her eyes.
Her posture was lowered slightly. Shoulders forward. Chin tucked.
In her hands were several sheets of paper—forms, identification copies, The edges were crumpled slightly where her fingers gripped them too tight.
She looked pissed.
Every few seconds, she’d glance up at the building directory mounted near the entrance.
Then her gaze would flick to the security caras mounted above the doorway.
And imdiately drop.
She shifted her weight.
Students passed by her, so glancing at the tattoos on her hands and wrists. A few stared a little too long before looking away.
Ash’s jaw flexed.
She stepped toward the inner door.
Then stopped.
"What’s taking you so long?"
The voice ca from behind her.
Ash stiffened instantly.
"What the—"
She turned sharply.
Don stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets.
He wore a navy SHU-branded tracksuit, logo stitched cleanly across the chest. White runners. Hair neat. Expression calm.
Ash’s first instinct was to cuss him out.
It sat right there on her tongue.
She swallowed it.
Instead, she settled for a glare.
"Why the hell do I have to do this?" she asked.
Don smiled faintly.
"It’ll be good for you to get so training."
Ash scoffed under her breath. "Training?"
"Yes."
He took a few steps closer but kept his tone casual.
"Unless you want to stay where you are forever."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Where I am?"
"Grunt work. Side jobs. No official standing."
He tilted his head slightly.
"If you want a managent role in the future. Better pay. Recognition."
He paused.
"Most importantly, this gets you the license you’ll need to use your powers in certain scenarios."
Ash’s fingers tightened around the papers.
"What scenarios?"
Don’s eyes shifted briefly toward one of the security caras mounted high above the entrance.
He didn’t move his head.
Just his gaze.
Then he looked back at her and smiled.
"You’re smart," he said. "Figure it out."
Ash stared at him.
Her stomach felt tight.
He stepped back.
"Have a good day," he added. "Let know how it goes."
He turned and began walking away across the campus path without waiting for a response.
Ash watched him for a second.
"Argh," she muttered.
She looked back at the door.
The glass reflected her faintly—hood up, scowl locked in place.
This wasn’t her world.
Clean hallways.
Structured programs.
Rules.
But neither was being cornered by the city.
She exhaled slowly.
Then stepped forward.
The automatic door slid open with a soft shffft~
Cool air hit her face.
She squared her shoulders slightly and walked inside.
Later that afternoon in the compund—
Even from outside the reinforced chamber, the impacts could be heard.
Boom—
Thud—
Crack—
The training cell had been adjusted again. The air inside wavered from heat alone. The temperature gauge mounted near the entrance blinked in red digits far beyond what any ordinary body could withstand for long.
Inside—
Don stood barefoot against the heated floor panels, wearing only form-fitting black workout shorts. His skin was slick with sweat, chest rising and falling heavily. Drops ran down his back, traced his sides, fell and struck the floor below—tck~
Redstar stood across from him.
Today she wore dark leggings and a cropped, long-sleeved top that clung to her fra. Her breathing remained steady. Only a faint sheen marked her skin.
The heat didn’t seem to bother her.
Don bent slightly at the knees, posture lowered. One hand forward. One guarding his jaw.
His eyes stayed on her centerline.
Redstar’s gaze didn’t blink.
"Again!" she barked.
Don exploded forward.
The distance between them vanished in a blink. The air snapped as he planted his lead foot and swung his rear leg upward in a brutal arc toward her head—
Redstar’s arm ca up instantly to block—
But the kick blurred.
Faded.
Her eyes narrowed.
Feint.
She shifted her head aside instinctively, searching for the real strike—
Too late.
Don had already twisted his hips and drove his knee forward into her abdon with full force—
Thud—
Impact t sothing that felt wrong.
It was flesh.
But it felt like striking a reinforced slab.
The force behind his knee dispersed into her body and went nowhere.
Still—
Redstar’s upper body folded inward slightly from the montum.
Don felt the recoil run up his thigh.
He pulled back to chain into another strike—
But her fist ca forward first.
A straight punch aid for his sternum—
He pushed off the heated floor hard—
Jumped back just in ti.
Her knuckles cut through the space where his chest had been a fraction earlier.
The air snapped in their wake.
Don landed lightly, sliding half a step to regain balance.
Redstar straightened slowly.
Then smirked.
"Your feints," she said, rolling her shoulder once, "are becoming better."
Her accent thickened slightly with approval.
"At close distance, even I would have trouble knowing which attack is real."
Don wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist.
"Really?"
"Da."
She placed one hand on her hip.
"But only because I trained you so well."
Don huffed lightly.
He didn’t know who deserved more credit.
Redstar—or the System.
The System had given him the chanics. The subtle weight shifts. The muscle mory. The ability to blur the first movent just enough to bait reaction.
Redstar had forced him to apply it under pressure.
The rest was on him.
Guard still raised, he replied, "Thank goodness for that."
Redstar tilted her head.
"I hear," she began, circling slowly to her left, bare feet making faint contact sounds against the heated surface—tap... tap... "there is another one of these school competitions your country likes so much. Soon, yes?"
Don tracked her movent.
She was referring to the regional exchange tournants. Superhuman universities sending third-years and below to clash in structured combat. Scouts watching. Sponsors circling. Recruiters making quiet offers.
Charles’s proposition had revolved around that event.
Thankfully—
Not as a participant.
"Will you compete?" Redstar asked.
Don shook his head.
"No."
He shifted his stance slightly.
"It’ll just distract ."
Redstar raised a brow.
"If I should be doing anything," Don continued, "it’s training for what I’ll actually need. Skills for private contractor work."
At that—
Redstar smiled.
Not mockery.
Approval.
"That," she said, removing her hand from her hip, "is good spirit."
She stepped closer now, heat rising between them.
"I shall help you with what I can," she continued. "But you will never be truly ready without proper military training. So do not try biting more than you can chew, da?"
Don blinked once.
"Uh... da?"
She gave him a look.
"Hmpfh. We fix your Russian also."
She rolled her shoulders, then stretched both arms overhead. Muscles along her torso tightened and lengthened as she exhaled.
"Now—"
Her eyes locked on him again.
"Attack again!!"
Don didn’t hesitate.
He surged forward once more—
This ti lower.
He feinted high with a shoulder twitch—
Her guard rose—
He dropped levels and swept for her leg—
She stepped over it effortlessly—
"Slower," she snapped.
He pivoted and drove a spinning elbow toward her ribs—
She caught his forearm mid-rotation—
Her grip tightened—
He felt pressure compress around bone—
Before she shoved him backward.
His feet skidded across the heated floor—skrrr—
He caught himself before falling.
Redstar advanced imdiately.
"Do not admire your own trick!" she yelled throwing a heavy hook toward his guard—
He blocked—
The impact sent a shock down his arm—
Boom—
He gritted his teeth.
Sweat ran into his eye.
He lunged again.
This ti layering the feint—
Head twitch. Shoulder roll. Step shift—
Redstar’s eyes tracked—
Her weight shifted—
He altered mid-motion and drove forward with a body shot—
Thud—
This ti—
She actually stepped back half a pace.
A faint mark ford along her side.
She exhaled slowly.
"Better."
Don’s chest rose and fell hard.
The heat pressed in around him.
His muscles burned.
But he didn’t stop.
He attacked again.
And again.
The room echoed with repeated impacts—
Boom—
Thud—
Crack—
Outside the cell, anyone passing by would know one thing.
Training inside wasn’t casual.
And it wasn’t slowing down anyti soon.
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