Whoosh!
Rohan dashed toward Rudra at full speed; his fist pulled back for a heavy strike. But Rudra stood firm, eyes focused, body relaxed—ready.
Just as Rohan's punch was about to land, Rudra caught it effortlessly, his palm wrapping around the incoming fist like it was nothing.
Rohan's eyes widened in disbelief. What? His full-strength punch… stopped, without even making Rudra flinch.
He instinctively tried to pull his hand back, but before he could react, Rudra's fist came flying.
Crack!
A sharp blow landed squarely on Rohan's face. It wasn't a full-force punch—just enough power to knock him out clean.
And down he went.
Seeing Rudra knock out Rohan with just a casual punch, everyone—including the instructor—stood frozen in shock.
A moment later, the instructor broke the silence.
"Alright, Rohan is knocked out. The winner of this fight is Rudra Singh." His voice carried a mix of disbelief and amazement.
As soon as the result was announced, murmurs spread like wildfire through the crowd.
"Did you see that?"
"One punch… just one!"
"But Rohan said he crossed the threshold of Quasi Warrior…"
"That means… Rudra has already surpassed that level!"
The whispers turned into a low buzz of awe and speculation. The fact that Rudra had effortlessly defeated someone who had just declared himself a Quasi Warrior… it sent a clear message—Rudra wasn't just strong. He was far beyond what anyone had imagined.
"Silence!"
A sudden roar echoed through the arena, silencing the crowd instantly.
No one dared to speak. The atmosphere turned tense under the weight of Instructor Hameed's voice.
"Since the fight is over, get back to your practice," Hameed said firmly, scanning the students with a sharp gaze.
Without delay, the crowd began to disperse. The murmuring stopped, and one by one, the trainees returned to their routines, though many still cast sideways glances at Rudra.
Rudra was about to head toward the canteen—his stomach growling, reminding him of the meal he had missed—when he heard his name.
"Rudra, you come with me. And someone, get this trash out of the arena!" Hameed barked, motioning toward Rohan's unconscious body.
A few students quickly moved in to carry Rohan away.
Rudra adjusted his shirt and followed Hameed without a word. The instructor walked ahead with long, purposeful strides, leading him away from the training grounds and toward the inner section of the facility.
After a moment of silence, Hameed spoke, his voice calm now but still carrying authority.
"Huh… you really are the most talented student in our country," Hameed said with a sigh, his voice a mix of pride and disbelief.
He still couldn't quite believe what he had witnessed. In just one year, Rudra had gone from a newcomer with average strength to someone who could casually knock out a Quasi-Warrior. The memory of the day Rudra first stepped into the gym flashed in his mind—quiet, serious, determined… but certainly not this powerful.
Hameed exhaled deeply and turned toward him.
"Since you've already reached the Quasi-Warrior level, it's time you take the Quasi-Warrior Examination next month, on the 1st of July."
He paused before continuing, voice firmer now.
"The Supervisor gave me clear instructions—to give you full support in your training. And he said… when you become an official Warrior, he'll come to meet you personally."
He gave Rudra a meaningful look. "So, work hard, Rudra. Don't waste this opportunity."
Rudra stood quietly for a moment, then nodded.
"I will, sir. I won't let you down."
Hameed patted his shoulder lightly, his stern expression softening just a little.
"Good. Now go eat something. You've earned it."
Hearing the instructor's words, Rudra's heart swelled with gratitude.
They hadn't helped him financially—but in truth, what they had given him was worth far more. The privilege of using the training rooms for free had been a huge boost to his progress. That alone had made countless hours of rigorous training possible when he had nowhere else to go.
But more than that, Instructor Hameed had personally guided him through his practice. In a world where hiring a combat tutor was far more expensive than simply renting a training room, this was no small favour.
And Hameed wasn't just any tutor—he was an Intermediate War General.
That level of guidance… was priceless.
Rudra clenched his fists slightly, not out of anger, but resolve.
"I won't forget this kindness," he thought. "No matter how far I go… I'll remember who helped me take my first real steps."
After expressing his thanks, Rudra quietly left the instructor's office. His stomach reminded him of unfinished business, so he made his way straight to the canteen.
. . . . .
After finishing his meal, Rudra returned to the training hall. But this time, he didn't limit himself to just blade techniques. He moved on to punching drills, powerful kicks, and a variety of hand-to-hand combat forms taught by the instructors.
As he flowed through each movement, switching styles with ease, something strange caught his attention.
No matter what technique he tried—be it striking, grappling, or footwork—he was able to grasp the fundamentals after just a few attempts.
'Incredible...' he thought, pausing for a moment. 'Does this mean I can learn any combat technique faster than others?'
The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. His growth wasn't just rapid—it was unnatural.
But then he shook his head, grounding himself.
'No. I must stay humble. In this vast universe, there are countless geniuses who can not only learn techniques—but create their own.'
'Compared to them, my small talent is nothing. If I want to survive… if I want to rise… I need to work harder than anyone else.'
With renewed determination burning in his eyes, Rudra exhaled deeply and resumed his training—each strike sharper, each movement more focused than before.