The first dojo I found kicked me out in under a minute.
I hadn't even finished stepping inside before a man with arms like carved stone held a hand out in front of my chest.
"Awakened only," he said flatly.
"I'm not—"
"Then you can't afford the insurance," he cut in, already turning away.
The door closed in my face.
I stared at it for a second.
"…Fair."
"That was efficient rejection," the System said."You are learning."
The second place didn't even bother pretending.
A sleek combat gym with reinforced walls and glowing sigils carved into the floor. I watched through the glass as people traded bursts of flame and lightning, instructors shouting cooldown timings and output percentages.
I opened the door.
A receptionist looked me up and down.
"Talent?" she asked.
"None."
Her smile froze. Then softened into something polite and distant. "This facility specializes in ability integration. We don't offer… physical-only programs."
"So you don't teach punching," I said.
"We teach combat," she replied.
I left before the System could comment.
By the fourth rejection, my confidence had dropped significantly.
By the sixth, I stopped asking about Talents and just asked about prices.
That was how I found it.
No glowing signs. No reinforced glass. Just a faded banner wedged between a closed laundromat and a noodle shop.
IRON ROOT DOJO
The windows were fogged. The door creaked when I pushed it open.
Inside smelled like sweat, old mats, and disinfectant.
People were moving.
No fire. No lightning. No summoned weapons.
Just bodies.
Two men grappled on the mat, breathing hard, muscles straining. Another pair traded slow, controlled punches under the watchful eye of an older instructor with a whistle hanging from his neck.
I stood there, suddenly very aware of my own posture.
Someone noticed me.
A woman in a black gi paused mid-stretch and raised an eyebrow. "You lost?"
"Maybe," I said. "Do you teach… this?"
She looked me up and down.
"No Talent?"
"Nope."
She grinned.
"Good."
The System appeared immediately.
"Warning," it said."You have found the unfashionable solution."
"Perfect."
The instructor approached, eyes sharp but not unkind.
"You want to learn how to fight?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Why?"
I hesitated.
Because monsters.Because I panicked.Because I keep surviving things I shouldn't.
"I don't want to break my own body," I said instead.
He studied me for a long moment, then nodded.
"Beginner class is over there," he said. "You pay monthly. No shortcuts. No powers."
"I don't have powers."
"Then you'll fit right in."
I bowed awkwardly, copying what I'd seen others do.
The System chimed.
"Achievement Unlocked: Entered a Dojo Without Exploding."Stat Points +1
"…Seriously?"
"You entered a controlled combat environment voluntarily," it said."This is growth."
I ignored it and stepped onto the mat.
The warm-up almost killed me.
Not dramatically. Just quietly.
Stretching muscles I didn't know I had. Holding stances that made my legs shake. Breathing drills that forced me to realize I'd been doing that wrong my entire life.
Sweat soaked through my shirt.
"This is worse than monsters," I muttered.
"Correction," the System said."Monsters attempt to kill you quickly.""This is prolonged suffering."
We started with basics.
How to stand.
How to move without crossing your feet.
How to punch without locking your elbow or lifting your shoulder.
Every correction felt personal.
"No power," the instructor said, tapping my hip with a stick. "Structure. Again."
I punched.
Wrong.
Again.
Better.
Again.
My arms burned.
My legs screamed.
But something clicked.
The punch landed cleaner. My balance held.
"…Oh," I whispered.
"You have discovered efficiency," the System said."Try not to ruin it."
Sparring came last.
Light contact. Controlled.
I faced a guy about my size. No aura. No glow. Just gloves and focus.
We bowed.
He moved first.
I flinched.
Old habit.
But this time, I didn't trip.
I stepped back correctly.
Blocked. Poorly—but intentionally.
He tagged my shoulder.
"Good," he said. "You didn't panic."
I almost laughed.
If only he knew.
When it ended, I was exhausted, bruised, and grinning like an idiot.
The instructor clapped his hands.
"Class dismissed."
I bowed again, deeper this time.
As I left the dojo, muscles screaming in protest, the System hovered beside me.
"Assessment," it said."You are bad."
"I know."
"However," it continued, grudgingly,"you are less bad than yesterday."
I smiled.
That was enough.
[End of Chapter 6]