The abandoned subway tunnel was Hakai's sanctuary. Damp, dark, and reeking of rust and stagnant water, it was a far cry from the vibrant, fictional worlds he'd once lived through a screen. Here, in the oppressive silence broken only by the distant drip of water and the scuttling of over-sized rats, there was only one reality: the energy thrumming within him and the need to master it.
His first two months were a cycle of brutal repetition. His days were divided into three pursuits: survival, conditioning, and experimentation.
Survival meant venturing into the less-destroyed sectors of Z-City at dawn, a ghost among the ruins. He foraged for canned food in collapsed supermarkets, always careful to avoid the patrols of C-Class heroes who viewed any lone figure in the disaster zone with suspicion. He saw them once—a team of three, their costumes garish, their voices loud as they posed for a picture after defeating a giant centipede. They were performers. Hakai turned away, a curl of disdain on his lip. They didn't understand the first thing about true power.
Conditioning was the forging of his body into a perfect vessel. He ran circuits through the treacherous rubble, his agility increasing until he could leap between collapsing girders with the grace of a predator. He pummelled the rusted husks of derailed train cars until his knuckles bled, then watched as the coiling energy within him seemed to accelerate the healing, the wounds closing faster than any normal human's. He was pushing his body to its absolute limit, and the latent energy was responding, hardening his muscles, sharpening his reflexes, elevating his base form to what he now understood was a solid A-Class physicality.
But the true work was Experimentation.
He stood before a section of the tunnel wall, its surface a mosaic of cracked tiles and graffiti. He focused, drawing the serpent of energy from his core, down his arm, and to his fingertip. He had named the techniques, giving form to his will.
"En."
A flick of his index finger. A hair-thin line of force shot out, scoring a clean, shallow cut into the concrete. Too shallow. He frowned. The theory was sound, but the execution was lacking. He needed more control, more focus. He spent days doing nothing but this, slicing the same wall until it was a canvas of a thousand intersecting lines, each cut deeper and cleaner than the last. He learned to vary the output—from a scratch that could slice a leaf in half to a cut that could sever steel reinforcement.
Next was Zen. The principle was the same, but the target was different. Life. He practiced on the monstrous wildlife that haunted the tunnels. A rat the size of a dog lunged from the shadows. Hakai didn't move. A flick of his wrist. The creature split cleanly in two mid-air, its momentum carrying the halves past him. It was efficient. Clinical. He analyzed the result; the cut had automatically sought the path of least resistance through flesh and bone. 'It calculates,' he realized. 'It understands the anatomy of its target on an instinctual level.'
But theory and practice were different things. This was proven when he became overconfident.
---
A rumble shook the tunnels, deeper and more menacing than any train. Hakai emerged from his lair to find the source: a towering, bestial figure covered in jagged, crystalline growths. It was pulverizing the landscape, its roar promising pure annihilation. A Demon-level threat. The Crystal Gorilla.
This was no training dummy. This was a real fight.
Hakai met its charge with exhilaration. He was faster, his En slashes carving shards from its crystalline hide. But the Gorilla was powerful and relentless. One misjudgment, a half-second too slow, and a fist like a pile-driver caught him in the side.
The sound of his own ribs cracking was a sickening crunch. He was thrown like a ragdoll through the wall of a nearby warehouse, landing in a heap of shattered wood and dust. Agony, white-hot and blinding, lanced through him. He tried to stand, but his body wouldn't obey. The Gorilla was stomping closer, its shadow falling over him.
This was it. Death. Again.
No.
A cold, focused fury seized him. He would not end here, not after being given this gift. He dragged himself upright, leaning against a shattered support beam. His energy was depleting rapidly from the fight, but he grasped at the last of it. He couldn't just let it flow out; he had to make it collide.
The concept of Reverse Energy flashed in his mind—a desperate, theoretical gambit. He forced his remaining energy to split into two opposing streams: one rushing out to heal, the other pulling in to regenerate. It was like trying to pat his head and rub his stomach in the middle of a hurricane. The pain was excruciating, a feedback loop of agony that threatened to shatter his mind.
But he held on.
A brilliant, warm light erupted from his chest, enveloping his torso. He felt the grating of bone, the tearing of muscle—and then, the unmistakable sensation of it all knitting back together with impossible speed. In mere seconds, the agony subsided to a dull, manageable throb. He was healed.
The Crystal Gorilla paused, its primitive mind confused by the sudden glow.
Hakai looked up, his red pupils burning in the dim light. A new, terrifying calm settled over him. The fight was no longer a game. It was a lesson.
"Thank you for the instruction," he said, his voice low and deadly. "Class is dismissed."
He didn't use a fancy technique. He simply unleashed a barrage of Zen slashes, now fueled by a cold, precise fury. They weren't meant to carve or test. They were meant to disassemble. The Crystal Gorilla was reduced to a cloud of crystalline dust in moments.
Hakai stood amidst the settling glitter, his breath even. He looked at his hands, then at the faint, lingering warmth in his chest where his ribs had been shattered. He had faced death and wrestled a new power from its grip.
A slow, genuine smile spread across his face. It wasn't the joyful grin of a boy finding excitement. It was the satisfied smile of a craftsman who had just discovered a fundamental new tool.
He had his core techniques. He had his healing. His body was a honed weapon. The bored, listless boy from Earth was gone, forged in the crucible of this monstrous city into something new. Something more.
He was ready. Not for survival. But for a challenge worthy of the name Hakai.