~A month later.
Iro stood in a dimly lit, nondescript room, the only light coming from the flickering data stream on her terminal. Since Merun's arrival, her standing within the Sect had shifted drastically; she had been formally promoted to the Director of Otherworldly Affairs due to her unique proximity to their "guest" and partner. Part of her new mandate involved the meticulous filing of every word that left Merun's mouth—collecting his "weird" terminology and any potential clues about the future to be archived for the Sect's analysts.
She was not speaking to a man in a room, but to a weightless, authoritative voice that emanated from the shadows of the encrypted link.
"Report, Director," the Beggar Sage commanded.
"Merun has officially begun his training in the Vajra Tyrant Style," Iro began, her voice steady. "He's already close to completion on Sanchin. We've assigned Squire Nanouk to mentor him on the technique. The Squire traded his martial services in exchange for the Sect's logistical support. He's built like a human polar bear, and his mastery of Sanchin is the perfect."
"And Merun?" the Beggar Sage asked.
"He resonated with the technique almost instantly. It's... disturbing how well it fits him. I guess he wasn't joking when he said they are a warrior race," Iro replied. She swiped through a list of search queries on her screen. "Our analysts are flagging his scouter logs. He's also been digging deep into mental techniques. He spent a significant amount of time reading the entries for Mind Palace and Mind Switch. We don't know if he's actually implemented them yet—there's been no outward practice—but he's definitely planning to do something surprising."
"Good," the Beggar Sage remarked. "The more he tastes the depth of martial techniques, the more he will crave it." The Beggar Sage's voice began to tremble in excitement. "Once he moves past these foundational steps and asks for Squire-level techniques, inform me immediately! That will be the time to initiate the information trade."
"There is one more thing, Lord Beggar Sage," Iro said, hesitant. "The scouters. I've been reviewing the data from the field. I knew there was a difference between a non-martial and a martial artist, but the gap is... terrifying. A peak-level Martial Master isn't just stronger than a non-martial human; they are an entirely different species. To think that a single gaze can quantify that five-million-point difference... it makes the world feel very small."
"The world is small, Iro," the Beggar Sage replied. "And it gets smaller when you take the mystery out of it. Did you add the critical feature I requested?"
"Yes," Iro nodded, her face hardening. "All devices are primed. Old models are completely eradicated. We counted each serial code and triple-checked. If anyone other than Merun tries to remove that scouter, or if his lifeforce signatures drop to zero, the local data will instantly corrupt and the device will immediately self-destruct."
"Good," the Beggar Sage said. "We cannot afford a leak. If the Martial World get their hands on this tech, it won't just spark a conflict. It will be the start of a new martial era—one where every child is measured, categorized, and discarded based on a number before they ever see the sky."
Iro shuddered. She imagined a world where the Shinken or Oni clans could scan a village and simply "cull" anyone with a low starting power level. The quantification of power would turn the current martial hierarchy into an inescapable prison.
"That is all for now, Lord Beggar Sage."
"Thank you, Iro. Keep mapping the Sekigaharan sector. I want to know the average power of every clan from the Tanaka to the Shinken."
"It will be done, your Sagehood."
The Beggar Sage's voice took on a rare, lighter tone before the connection cut. "And Iro... don't fall too hard for our guest, okay?Wait a few more years at least!"
Iro's face turned a violent shade of red. "I—he—that's not—!"
The line went dead.
Iro felt a pang of irritation but ultimately kept it to herself as one of her eyes twitched.
———
The month of training had transformed the quiet clearing into a scarred battlefield of cratered dirt and splintered wood. At the center of it stood Merun, his feet dug into the earth, his body locked into the foundational posture of Sanchin: Root of the Iron Pillar.
Opposite him, Squire Nanouk loomed like a white-furred titan. He had wild, white hair, pale brown skin, and ice-white eyes. The man was a veteran of the frozen North, a Martial Squire for decades whose body had been tempered into a massive, polar-bear-like engine of destruction.
"Focus!" Nanouk roared, his voice like grinding ice.
He stepped forward, his palm strikes hitting Merun's chest with the force of falling boulders. Each blow generated a thunderous crack that echoed through the trees.
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM
A month ago, these full-power strikes had forced winces and staggered steps from the newbie. Now, Merun didn't even blink.
Nanouk felt a sharp, throbbing heat begin to radiate through his knuckles. By the third strike, the ache traveled up to his wrists, a dull grinding sensation that told him his own joints were taking the brunt of the impact. He looked at Merun's frame; the kid was masterfully was rooted. It was a perfect execution of the art. Nanouk couldn't help but feel genuine admiration; he himself was a master of the style, but Merun was a on a league of his own. He was tougher, denser, stronger, faster... and was close to absolute perfection of the Apprentice technique in just a month. Everything about this made Nanouk feel like the world was unfair.
He was but a frog in a well.
"You're getting cocky!" Nanouk grunted, his eyes narrowing. He threw a series of heavy, structural blows, each one more desperate than the last. But with every impact, Nanouk was the one who felt the recoil. Merun had become a body made of steel, grounding every ounce of force into the soil beneath his heels.
Nanouk saw an opening—or perhaps he just wanted to see if the monster had a mortal limit. He dropped low, his fist whistling through the air as he aimed a vicious strike directly for Merun's crotch.
Merun's eyes widened. "The hell—?!"
The "Iron Pillar" vanished. In a blur of speed that Nanouk's veteran eyes could barely track, Merun flickered out of existence and reappeared directly behind the Squire. Before Nanouk could pivot, a shockwave of raw power slammed into his back, sending him hurtling across the clearing.
BOOM
Nanouk slammed into a massive oak with a deafening thud, sliding down the trunk until he landed upside down, his legs tangled in the branches.
"AHA!" Nanouk wheezed, a manic grin stretching across his face. "You're really close to mastery, but you failed at the last part! You broke the stance and moved!"
Merun stood in the center of the clearing, his chest heaving as he pointed a finger at the upside-down Squire. "You fucking bastard! You aimed for my crown jewels! Of course I moved!"
"EH? All I hear are excuses!" Nanouk yelled back, untangling himself from the tree and dropping to the ground with a heavy thud. He stood up, shaking the leaves from his white hair. "I'll show you the true power of Sanchin! Come at me!"
Merun let out a sharp, genuine laugh. "You're fucking crazy! Fine! Here I come!"
Merun closed the distance in a heartbeat, burying a punch deep into Nanouk's gut.
BOOM
The Squire stood firm, his defense truly stellar for a man of his realm, his own Sanchin acting as a buffer against the weight.
"Is that all?" Nanouk challenged.
"Not even close," Merun smirked.
BOOM BOOM BOOM
Slowly, Merun began to ramp up the strength. One punch, two, three—each impact sounded like a sledgehammer hitting a vault door. Nanouk grew increasingly nervous as he felt his internal structure beginning to rattle, his face turning a slight shade of purple.
Finally, Merun stepped back and pulled his right fist to its absolute limit. A sudden, oppressive killing intent flooded the clearing. Nanouk's instincts screamed at him; he layered every defensive technique he knew onto his Sanchin, bracing for an impact that felt like it would level the forest.
He braced. He locked his core. He prepared for the end.
The punch never came.
At the last millisecond, Merun's fist stopped an inch from Nanouk's chest—a perfect feint. As Nanouk's defensive tension peaked, Merun dropped low and drove his knee straight upward into Nanouk's groin.
"ᴬᴬᴬᶜᴷ!" The Squire's eyes rolled into the back of his head.
The "Iron Pillar" of the North collapsed like a limp log, hitting the dirt with a quiet, pathetic groan.
Merun stood over him, dusting off his hands. "See? That's why I dodged."