44 — Potential

A pristine hall stretched in front of us. An assortment of training equipment, from punching bags, to speed bags, and even heavy bags, lined the perimeter. The ceiling was high and the floor was covered with thick, blue mats.

Upon first impressions, you'd expect the spacious hall to be brimming with students, either sparring or rehearsing some complicated technique.

But...

The hall was deserted.

Except for one.

She must have looked like a flickering flame from a distance. She stood by the window, back turned, an inferno burning where her hair should be. It poured down in an endless torrent, vivid crimson waves dancing with life all their own. Looking at it for too long scorched the eyes; you could feel the heat shimmering off each twist and snakelike curl.

An exaggeration, of course.

But that color wasn't natural ─ it was hellfire given form, hungrily devouring all light. A single lock unfurled like a flaming tendril, beckoning you closer to taste flesh seared to ash.

She turned around.

Two coils fell over her creamy skin, outlining neck and shoulders aflame. Only her face remained untouched, pale and lovely amid the carnage.

"Master." She bowed as soon as Ju Mong entered the room.

Bent at the waist, that beautiful mane spilled all over her face. A few seconds later, she straightened her back and fixed a pair of fiery blue eyes on us.

Her gaze was inquisitive.

"Ah, Emberlyn, good to see you so full of vigor! We have two newcomers today." Ju Mong gestured towards me, a wide grin on his face. "Dae Ho and his lovely friend Yu Hee were interested in taking a look."

"I see."

A tilt of the head, too cute to go along with those cold eyes of hers.

Ju Mong laughed. A deep and hearty chuckle. “I was actually counting on you to give our little skeptic friends a good demonstration of our ancestral martial arts.”

I shot a quick glance at Ju Mong. “With so many martial arts out there, what makes yours so special… so different?” I probed — mostly to dig out some real information and not some zealous and overly sugar-coated pitch about how much better it was than the alternatives.

"What indeed?" Ju Mong's face lit up, but I couldn't tell if it was because of the question, or just because he was happy to be talking about it. "You see, Dae Ho, it's not like any of those lackluster martial arts that litter the public domain. The Arcane Fist transcends them all, existing as a unique entity, untethered to any established form. It is an amalgamation, a tapestry woven from the threads of countless cultures and their ancient fighting techniques."

I furrowed my brow, struggling to grasp the concept. "So... it's just a mishmash of moves thrown together? How does that make it any better?"

A thought flashed through my mind. Wasn't this approach akin to that of mixed martial arts? Undeniably effective, but still a synthesis of various disciplines.

Ju Mong's eyes sparkled, the excitement within him uncontainable. "Ah, you see, my young apprentice, the beauty lies in the chaos. The Arcane Fist is not bound by the constraints of tradition or the rigidity of a singular style. It is a fluid fusion, drawing from the essence of diverse martial arts, each one contributing its own wisdom and power. There's no way to master it without attuning your spirit. Soul. Mind. Body. The power unleashed through such a union is not to be wielded carelessly, certainly not in the confines of some paltry public match put on display for the masses."

His words hung in the air, laden with a sense of reverence and caution.

"Fascinating.” Despite his rough appearance, he had a way with words that drew you in. “And what exactly does this secret technique entail?"

"Well, it's a lot more than a simple technique. You see, it's a method to achieve a higher state of being, a superior form of life. It's an ancient tradition, passed down from generation to generation, all the way back to the early days of the clan, before we came to these lands, before we were a people."

Yu Hee had an adorably confused look on her face. “Umh… how do you achieve that exactly?”

"As I said, it's a union of body and mind.” Ju Mong grinned, arms crossed. “Through rigorous training, one can shape the mind to control the body, and through control, achieve a higher level of consciousness. This is the Arcane State."

"Arcane State, huh?" Yu Hee blinked — as stunned as I was.

Emberlyn kept staring at us throughout Ju Mong’s entire explanation.

"Yes, a trance-like state, a level of concentration so profound that you can consciously control the very energies that flow through the body. The Arcane Fist can manipulate and amplify ki, allowing its user to perform feats of strength and speed otherwise impossible, while remaining perfectly lucid. But a few words can’t possibly give justice to the might of this discipline. Emberlyn.”

“Yes, master!”

Ju Mong pointed at one of the heavy bags hanging from the ceiling. It looked brand new, as if it was equipped right before their arrival. “Give them a demonstration.”

Emberlyn turned to the bag and stood in front of it. Her stance was low, her legs spread wide, one arm raised, the other dangling by her side. I stared, unblinking, as she briefly closed her eyes, released a deep breath, and snapped them open.

A slight shift in weight, the slightest change in posture, and her fist was already a blur, striking the heavy bag with a thud. Emberlyn's tiny fist sunk into the bag, momentarily disappearing between the distorted fabric. A burst of misplaced air followed. The chain overhead rattled before it snapped.

The bag was sent careening towards the middle of the hall, where its momentum dispersed after rolling a good distance away.

Emberlyn didn't move, still in the same position.

She was the image of serenity, a calm ocean.

There was a brief moment of silence.

"That... was amazing!" Yu Hee was the first to speak. "How did she do that?"

My jaw slackened slightly. This was another reminder that this world might not follow the same rules and laws of my previous one. She was tiny, for God’s sake — she shouldn’t have so much power packed in that body.

I walked forward. Doubt gnawed at me, like a persistent insect. I hated it.

I knelt down, in front of the bag. Black, in a pristine condition even after the abuse it received. With both hands, I tried to pick it up. ‘It’s heavy… this is no joke…’

Emberlyn stared at me.

Was she expecting some kind of reaction?

I huffed a chuckle, rewarding her with a smile.

She smiled right back — a deviant curl of her lips.

“What do you think, youngling? Amazing, right?” A powerful grip on my shoulder told me Ju Mong was behind me.

I didn’t even hear him.

“Why aren’t there more people here?”

Ju Mong shrugged, hand still on my shoulder. “Hah, many reasons. Competition. Secrecy. People don’t believe in extraordinary powers — let alone being able to harness them. This is why, in a way, you’re special, my friend. Your body feels like it was made purely to wield that power. Aren’t you curious? Surely… you must have seen firsthand what I’m talking about.”

“Secrecy, huh. Quite a smart idea to hand out fliers if you didn’t want anyone to know about you.”

An embarrassed cough went off.

I turned towards Emberlyn, who sported an indignant blush as she avoided my gaze.

“The folly of youth.” Ju Mong boomed a laugh. “She’s a good kid, just trying to help revive a dojo that is unfortunately declining.”

My eyes returned to the downed bag.

“Why don’t you take a shot?”

That was enough to focus everyone’s eyes on me.

“One punch. If nothing happens, I won’t convince you anymore.” Ju Mong nudged me in the direction of another heavy bag. “But if something does happen, promise me you’ll at least think about joining us.”

I’ve always been in the spotlight — hard not to when millions of fans watched your every single move. Each stride, each sprint, every twist and turn, all dissected and analyzed under the watchful eyes of an expectant audience. Every misstep magnified, every triumph celebrated. The line between failure and success blurs, as if my very existence is a perpetual performance, a spectacle to be witnessed and judged.

The punching bag stood still, suspended in the air.

I didn’t have a good form, nor did I try to make up one when there was no solid foundation for such a thing to be built on. Instead, I positioned myself in a basic boxing stance. That much, I could do.

I took a deep breath, steadying the hammering beat in my chest.

I tightened my core, shifting my weight on the balls of my feet.

Muscles coiled, and then my right arm moved. My fist met the heavy bag.

A thunderous crack, like the sound of a tree trunk being split apart, and the bag's thick hide wrinkled and deformed before the force it was subjected to made it swing back and forth.

The heavy bag stopped swaying after a good minute, hanging limply by the strained chain.

“W-Wow…” Yu Hee’s eyes widened, hand over her mouth.

I rolled the joint of my shoulder.

The skin of my knuckles was slightly red.

Last time I punched a bag, it easily tore apart, making me question the untapped strength this body had — but the bag was likely old and used. I couldn’t say the same about this one.

I turned around.

Two sets of eyes were immediately upon me. Ju Mong, with a wide grin under his bushy mustache, and Emberlyn, with a pensive frown on her face.

It was just a punch. Admittedly, a powerful one, but I didn’t know what to make of the Arcane Fist. This misplaced attention wasn’t something I craved. Was Ju Mong truly a master of this extraordinary art, or was he merely an artful deceiver, spinning tales of mystique?

“Yu Hee Noona, let’s go.”

I needed to think about it. Perhaps I was running away — I’ve always been more practical with my feet than my brain. A ball, I could juggle. Promises of supernatural powers? I needed to sleep over it. Drink over it. And potentially have sex over it as well.

“H-Huh?”

Yu Hee stared at the strong hand wrapped around her wrist as she let herself be dragged out of the dojo.

A wave, and a brief goodbye. That's all I left behind.

──⇌ ⋆★⋆ ⇋──

Ju Mong’s POV:

That boy held more potential than anyone had any right to have. Whether it would manifest as a force for good or a harbinger of evil in the martial world, the magnitude of his capabilities was simply awe-inspiring. If he were to embrace and harness his potential, the impact he could make on the world would be nothing short of monumental.

“Master…”

Emberlyn’s soft voice tore his gaze away from Dae Ho’s retreating silhouette — albeit reluctantly.

Her line of sight was not on him, but on the heavy bag that bore the weight of Dae Ho’s fist. Cracks, subtle at first, etched their way across the ceiling, as if the very foundations of the building quivered under the onslaught of Dae Ho's power. The chain that held the bag together came undone, its metallic links yielding to the immense force.

And then, in a burst of paint chips and crumbling plaster, the bag succumbed, crashing down to the floor like a vanquished foe.