The dojo was a theater of humiliation.
One by one, the Sleepers had stepped into the ring with Nephis, and one by one, they had been systematically dismantled. She didn't just defeat them; she erased them from the mat in a span of mere seconds. Blaze watched from the sidelines, his eyes narrowed as he traced the terrifying economy of her movements.
It's just like in the novel, he thought, a cold weight settling in his stomach. She isn't just skilled; she's a combat genius. Her mind processes violence like a grandmaster plays chess. How the hell am I supposed to fight someone like that?
The line of volunteers had dwindled until only two remained: himself and Caster. Before the polished Legacy scion could rise to make his move, Blaze surged forward. He couldn't wait any longer. He needed to feel the gap between them for himself.
He stepped into the ring and took a low, aggressive stance. Nephis mirrored him, her posture as still and deep as an ancient well. Blaze observed her, searching for even the slightest tremor in her guard, a weakness in her footing, or a lapse in her focus. Finding none, he launched himself into the fray.
The fight began with an explosion.
Blaze moved first. To the watching Sleepers, he was nothing but a blur—a sudden, violent eruption of kinetic energy. His speed was monstrous, propelled by the unnatural strength of his rebuilt physique. He closed the gap in a single heartbeat, his fist whistling through the air with enough force to shatter reinforced timber.
Nephis didn't try to block. She didn't even flinch. At the last possible millisecond, she tilted her head with a grace that felt almost insulting. The wind from Blaze's punch ruffled her white hair as the blow grazed past her ear, striking nothing but empty air.
Blaze didn't let up. He pivoted on his heel, launching a lightning-fast roundhouse kick aimed at her ribs. Again, Nephis moved with the economy of a master. Instead of backing away, she stepped into his guard. Her palm caught his shin, not to stop it, but to redirect the momentum. Blaze's own immense strength became his undoing, sending him stumbling three steps past her as he fought to regain his balance.
She's not fighting me, Blaze realized, his teeth gritting together in frustration. She's fighting my momentum. She's using my own body as a weapon against myself.
He doubled his efforts, pushing his muscles to the brink. He was faster than her, his limbs coiling and snapping like steel springs. His raw power meant that even a glancing blow should have ended the match, yet he couldn't land a single one. He launched a frantic barrage of strikes—hooks, jabs, and low sweeps—that forced Nephis into a constant, fluid retreat.
But Nephis was a ghost. Her technique was a flawless tapestry of redirection and timing. Every time Blaze swung, she was exactly one inch outside his reach. Every time he tried to pin her down, her hand was precisely positioned to parry his wrist, shunting his power into the void. She was a surgeon dissecting a whirlwind, calm and clinical while he was a storm of wasted effort.
"You're fast," Nephis said. Her voice was cool and steady, completely undisturbed by the chaos of his assault. "But you're loud. Your body screams your intentions before you even move."
Blaze roared, lunging forward with a devastating straight right. He poured every ounce of his will into the strike, his speed reaching its absolute limit.
Nephis saw the blow coming before his muscles even twitched. Instead of retreating, she dropped low, slipping beneath the arc of the punch. As Blaze's momentum carried him forward, overextended by his own immense power, Nephis caught his leading ankle with her heel and shoved his shoulder with both palms.
It was a perfect use of leverage. Blaze, moving like a runaway freight train, had no way to compensate. He tripped over her foot, his own speed turning into his worst enemy.
Nephis didn't give him a heartbeat to recover. As he stumbled toward the edge of the ring, she rose like a coiled spring and delivered a sharp, snapping roundhouse kick to his midsection. It wasn't nearly as powerful as Blaze's strikes, but the timing was impeccable.
The impact sent the off-balance Blaze sailing backward. He twisted in mid-air, his hand clawing for the mat, but it was too late. He hit the floor with a heavy thud, sliding three feet past the boundary line.
Silence fell over the dojo. Blaze sat up, rubbing his chest where the kick had landed, his breath coming in ragged, frustrated gasps. He looked at the ring, where Nephis stood exactly where he had been a moment ago. Her expression was unchanged; not a single hair was out of place, and her breathing was as calm as if she had been taking a light stroll.
Blaze searched her face for a reaction—mockery, pride, perhaps even a hint of acknowledgement—but she gave nothing. She simply waited for the next opponent. Blaze pushed himself up, his pride stung but his mind buzzing with the lesson. He left the ring in silence and sat among the other Sleepers, his eyes fixed on the floor.
******
Back in the solitude of his room, Blaze replayed the fight over and over in his mind.
The realization was bitter: his technique was sloppy. He was a brawler with the engine of a god, but no steering. He needed to learn the art of combat, not just the mechanics of it.
Should I ask her to train me? he wondered. I know the story. There is a high possibility I'll land in the Forgotten Shore with them. If I do, I can't afford to be this unrefined.
To be frank, he didn't want to engage her more than necessary. In the novel, he had found her character to be overbearing—a person consumed by a singular, burning purpose that left little room for humanity. But he was no longer a reader; he was a participant. He needed her help, and he needed Sunny's. After a certain point in the timeline, his knowledge of the future plot would grow fuzzy, and survival would depend entirely on the strength of his alliances.
If I land in the Forgotten Shore, I have to be attached to her hip, he decided. At least for my own survival.
The days that followed passed like a rushing wind. Blaze's life became a rigorous, exhausting routine. He spent his mornings in Teacher Julius's Wilderness Survival class, absorbing the lore of the Dream Realm until his head ached. His afternoons were spent in the Combat dojo, where he took every beating as a lesson, and his nights were dedicated to testing the limits of his Hellfire in the isolation of the training rooms.
He kept his social interactions brief. He shared small talk with Cassie and Sunny, maintaining a friendly but guarded distance. He didn't want to delve too deep into their secrets, and he certainly didn't want to share his own. He was an "outskirt rat" in a world of monsters and legends, waiting for the inevitable.
As the weeks bled into one another, the air in the Academy grew colder, and the tension among the Sleepers reached a breaking point. The Winter Solstice—the day they would leave the safety of the waking world—was finally upon them.
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I have two things to announce,
1.I am planning to change the true Name to Ghost rider or Demon of Judgement
2.For the part MC's love and a new character:
->I am planning to bring a another character from alternate universe(From RI,LOTM etc)
Here are the choices:
1.Mo Yao(RI)
2.Audrey Hall(Lotm)
3.Alternate SS World with a different choices