Kael frowned slightly but followed, expecting another variation of the same routine. Another task layered on top of the rest. Another way to make his life more difficult under the excuse of training.

They stopped near a large rock not far from the cave. It was not particularly remarkable, but it was solid, dense, and unmoving. The kind of rock that did not yield to effort.

Kael glanced at it, then at the old man.

"...What now?"

The old man did not answer immediately. He simply stepped forward and struck the rock.

The movement was simple.

There was no wind-up, no visible force behind it, no dramatic motion. His fist moved forward and made contact with the surface.

The rock cracked.

Not shattered. Not destroyed. But a clear fracture spread from the point of impact, thin lines branching outward in a way that did not match the force that had been applied.

Kael stared.

"...No," he said quietly.

The old man stepped back.

"Punch it."

Kael looked at the rock again.

Then at his own hands.

Then back at the old man.

"You’re joking."

The old man said nothing.

Kael let out a short, disbelieving breath.

"You want me to punch that," he said, pointing at the rock. "With this," he added, lifting his hand slightly. "After everything I’ve been doing."

"Punch it."

Kael frowned, irritation rising.

"This is stupid. I’m not breaking my hand because you feel like..."

The old man’s gaze did not change.

Kael exhaled slowly, looking back at the rock.

"...Fine."

Kael already knew this was going to be a bad idea before he even stepped in front of the rock, and the worst part was that nothing about it surprised him anymore.

A few weeks ago, he would have argued, maybe tried to walk away, maybe even cursed louder just to feel like he still had some control over his own situation. Now he just stood there, staring at the surface of the stone, flexing his fingers slowly while the dull soreness from the previous day reminded him that this was not going to get any easier.

He glanced at the old man, who had already walked back a few steps as if the outcome of this had been decided long before Kael even got here, and that only made it worse. There was no explanation, no warning, no "this is what you’re doing wrong." Just that same infuriating expectation that he would somehow figure it out on his own, as if getting thrown off cliffs, drowned in rivers, and turned into unpaid labor wasn’t already enough.

"Yeah, alright," Kael muttered under his breath as he rolled his shoulders once, trying to loosen the tension that had already started building there. "Let’s just add breaking my hands to the list. Why not. At this point, it’s basically a hobby."

He stepped forward and threw the punch.

It hurt exactly the way he expected it to hurt, which somehow made it worse. The impact shot straight through his knuckles and into his wrist, a sharp, immediate pain that forced his hand back before he could even think about holding it there. There was no give, no crack, nothing except the solid, undeniable feeling that he had just hit something far harder than his own bones.

Kael sucked in a breath through his teeth and shook his hand slightly, trying to get rid of the sting that lingered there. "Great. Perfect. Yeah, that definitely worked. I think the rock almost apologized."

The old man shook his head slightly.

"Wrong."

Kael stared at him.

"...Wrong? You don’t say."

"You’re punching with your arm."

Kael let out a dry laugh.

"...What else am I supposed to punch with?"

The old man did not answer nor explain.

Kael stared at him for another second, then let out a short, dry laugh and turned back to the rock. "Yeah, no, that would be too easy. Why would we do that?"

Instead, the Fist King stepped forward again and struck the rock once more.

The motion was the same.

Simple.

Direct.

The crack deepened.

Kael’s eyes narrowed.

"That’s not normal."

The old man stepped aside.

"Punch it."

Kael clenched his jaw.

"This is pointless."

"Punch it."

The repetition grated on him more than the command itself. There was no explanation, no correction beyond a vague statement that meant nothing to him.

He stepped forward again.

This time, he adjusted slightly. He focused more on his stance, his footing, the alignment of his body. He remembered how his movements had changed during the training, how reducing wasted motion had improved everything else.

He threw the punch again.

The result was the same.

Pain.

His knuckles protested immediately, the impact reverberating through his hand in a way that made him grit his teeth.

"Still wrong," the old man said.

Kael lowered his hand slowly, staring at the rock.

"...Then explain it."

"No."

Kael laughed again, more out of frustration than humor.

"Of course not."

The punches didn’t replace anything.

That was the part Kael hated the most.

****

If this had been the only thing he had to deal with, maybe he could have focused on it, figured it out faster, suffered through it, and been done. But no, of course not. The punches came first, early in the morning, before anything else, when his body was just recovered enough to function but not enough to avoid feeling every single impact.

And then everything else followed.

By the time he reached the cliff after the first few hundred strikes, his hands already felt different. Not unusable, but not reliable either. His grip was slightly off, his fingers slower to respond, and every time he reached for a hold, he could feel the echo of those impacts still sitting in his bones.

"This is great," he muttered as he descended, carefully testing each hold. "This is exactly what I needed. Make the one thing I rely on for not dying slightly worse. Brilliant."

He slipped once, caught himself immediately, and paused there for a second, exhaling slowly.

"...Okay, that one’s on me," he admitted quietly, then continued.

At the bottom, hunting didn’t get easier either. His timing was just a fraction off again, the delay from the weights combined with the soreness in his hands making him hesitate in moments where he should have committed. He missed one opportunity completely, scared off another, and by the third attempt, his patience was already thinning.

"Come on," he muttered under his breath, crouched low, watching a small animal that hadn’t noticed him yet. "Just this once, don’t make this harder than it already is."

He moved.

Not perfectly.

But better.

The catch wasn’t clean, but it worked, and at this point, that was enough.

The construction was where it got worse.

Handling tools with sore knuckles was a special kind of irritation that he hadn’t missed from his old life, and now it came with added weight, constant fatigue, and the knowledge that this wasn’t even supposed to be the main focus of his day.

"I swear," he muttered as he worked the saw through another section of wood, the vibration running up his arms and straight into his hands, "if this ends up being your house and not mine, I’m tearing it down myself."

The structure was starting to look like something now, which somehow made it more annoying. It had a frame that actually held, supports that didn’t immediately shift when weight was applied, and a rough sense of shape that made it clear this wasn’t just temporary anymore.

Which meant he was, in fact, building the old man a proper place to live.

"For free," Kael added under his breath, adjusting the position of a beam. "Don’t forget that part. Very important detail."

He pushed the piece into place, paused, then adjusted it again slightly.

"...That’s actually straighter than before," he muttered, frowning.

He stepped back, looking at it for a moment longer than he meant to.

Then immediately looked away.

"Doesn’t mean anything," he said, a little too quickly. "Just... less terrible than before. That’s all."

The river came at the worst time, as usual.

By then, his body was already tired, his hands already sore, his patience already worn thin. Which, apparently, was exactly when the old man decided it was the perfect moment to throw him into water again.

Kael didn’t even argue this time.

He saw it coming, and for a split second, he thought about stepping aside, about dodging it just to prove he could.

Then he didn’t.

The kick landed, and the water closed over him.

The cold hit the same way, the weight dragged him down the same way, and the instinct to panic rose just as fast as it always did.

But his body didn’t react the same way.

His arms moved, but not as wildly. His legs kicked, but not without direction. There was still tension, still that overwhelming urge to get out, to breathe, to fight against the water.

He just... delayed it.

For a moment longer than before.

It wasn’t much.

But it was there.

When he was pulled out, gasping for air, coughing as his chest tried to catch up, he lay there for a second longer than usual, staring at the sky with a slight frown.

"...That was different," he muttered quietly.

No response.

Of course.

The next morning, the punches felt worse.

Not because his hands had gotten weaker, but because he could feel more now. The impact traveled deeper, the sensation less dull, more precise, and that made every mistake clearer.

"Fantastic," Kael said under his breath as he shook his hand after another failed strike. "Not only does it hurt, now I get to feel exactly how wrong it is. That’s great. That’s exactly what I needed."

He adjusted again.

Not consciously, not in a structured way, but through repetition. Small changes. Slight shifts in how his body aligned, how his weight moved, how his arm followed through.

Then... 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

The strike landed.

And for a brief moment, everything aligned.

It didn’t feel like hitting the rock.

It felt like something passing through him and into it.

Kael froze slightly, his hand still against the surface.

"...Okay," he said slowly. "That... wasn’t the same."

A faint flicker appeared at the edge of his vision.

[Proper Strike Registered]

Kael blinked.

"...Oh, now you show up," he muttered, straightening slightly. "That’s real helpful. Could’ve used that a few hundred punches ago, but sure, now’s fine."

The window disappeared, leaving him staring at the rock again.

Then he looked at his hand.

Then back at the rock.

"...Don’t tell me I have to figure this out properly now," he said, already knowing the answer.

Behind him, the old man didn’t move.

Which was answer enough.

Kael exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders once.

"Yeah, alright," he muttered. "Let’s ruin my hands properly this time."