Augustus grabbed a baton and pointed at the dungeon.
"This is my custom-made training dungeon. For three months, I'll train you in my martial arts. Then, you'll spend another three months inside it—alone. After that, you'll head back to the city."
"Wha—what? Return... there?" Josen barely uttered above a whisper, going pale.
"Yes. You must be strong-willed, young man. Training will be tough, but it'll be worth it. You'll gain real power, and experience too."
"Y-yes sir."
"Good. Now go change into your training gear—it's in that room over, just past the closet."
The smell of the synthetic tracksuit was surprisingly nice. It was smooth, slick, and shone under the light.
"Wow… this is nice."
"First off," Augustus continued, baton in hand, "you're going to face great challenges. You need to harden your heart. Power isn't something you just unlock—you have to sweat for it, bleed for it."
"Now, watch me closely."
Josen watched in awe. The movements were soft, yet sharp and precise—no wasted motion. Every strike was swift, direct, and aimed to kill or neutralize.
But...
Is it enough? Can I really stand up to them—those monsters with their systems...?
As his thoughts spiraled and despair crept in, a sharp whistle split the air. A panel strike boomed past his ear. He barely dodged it—and realized that if it had landed, he probably wouldn't be standing.
"You're here to train, not fall into your thoughts," Augustus snapped. "Now do exactly what I did."
"Turn there—good. Twist here. Now… strike."
Josen missed the bullet embedded in the mannequin's head. Again. Augustus sensed the frustration boiling over. After six hours of failing, Josen's morale was starting to crack.
"This is hopeless," he muttered. "Everyone else is casually getting stronger... and I'm just down here, sweating in some cold, heartless dungeon."
Augustus looked at him, voice calm but firm.
"Listen, boy... You're not here to become strong. You're here to become real. Strength is just the byproduct."
Josen felt something stir inside him. He rose to his feet and threw a kick—clumsy, but determined. Augustus, watching quietly, allowed himself a faint smile.
He's growing... in body and mind.
"How do I rotate my hand for this punch?" Josen asked.
"Start with your palm facing up. Then throw the punch while slowly rotating your arm. You'll feel the wind after it lands."
BOOM.
As Josen withdrew his fist, he could feel the air ripple around it.
"Whoa… that was—"
"Impressive," Augustus cut in. "Took me a year to get a boom that loud. Now keep practicing—along with your kicks. Focus your mind, purge your soul. Let the martial will flow."
He turned toward the stairs.
"You'll grow strong, my boy," Augustus said in a low voice—just loud enough for Josen to hear.
Weeks go by, as josen even though his growing and understanding the techniques of his grandfather, still feels like his drastically below the expected level for him, but remember the words of Augustus
rise boost your conviction so u will never fall
Yes sir he says and he stands up one more time ,"formless fang: first form, rapid strike"
Four straight punches around the solar pexus
And a massive chop the the neck of the mannequin causing it to shake violently, finally nailing the first move of the first form of formless fang.
"Yes finally...."