Harry moved. An uppercut exploded from the ground. It caught Andy under the jaw. The force lifted him clean off his feet. His body flew backward, spinning through the air like a broken doll.
He crashed near the seats of the seven supreme masters. Gasps ripped through the hall. Andy didn't scream. He just lay there, unmoving.
Monks rushed forward, robes flapping, voices shouting. They knelt beside him, shaking him, pressing their hands to his chest. But nothing. He remained lifeless on the ground.
Harry stood alone in the center of the arena. Sweat dripped from his chin. His left hand slowly unclenched. Eyes stared at him. Hundreds of them. Some in fear. Some in disbelief.
One of the old masters rose slowly. Master Frederick's voice carried across the silence. "In my seventy years of existence, no one has possessed such a powerful strike."
A murmur spread.
Master Kangfu shifted in his seat. His fingers tightened around his staff. He stood abruptly. "Harry Jones wins." His voice cut through the noise, sharp and final.
The monks dragged Andy away. Blood streaked across the floor behind him like a dark trail. Harry's heart still thundered. His breath came hard. He looked at his hand again. No pain. Not even a bruise.
Something had changed. He could feel it. The crowd slowly began to breathe again. Then the bell rang.
That day, the hall was heavier than usual, thick with anticipation and murmurs. The list of students who had advanced to level two was being called, their names echoing off the stone walls. Some cheered, some wept quietly, others sat stiffly, too nervous to even move. When Harry's name came up, he didn't leap for joy the way some of the others did, he simply straightened his back and nodded. Repeating the white belt might seem like a setback to an outsider, but Harry felt different. He was alive, unbroken, and for the first time, he understood what that meant.
Kelly and the rest of his gang walked past him, faces pale and stiff. Andy, however, was conspicuously absent. Whispers had begun to snake through the room, small, tense, like sparks on dry wood. "He did, he survive?" one student muttered, and heads swiveled toward Harry, eyes glinting with a mixture of disbelief and fear.
The monks started calling the names of the students who had failed. The two girls who had lost every fight were the last to be named. Their shoulders slumped, heads drooping as their fate was announced.
"You will progress to the monk cave," the announcer's voice said flatly, "where you will learn medicine."
The girls' faces crumpled in shock and despair. Tears slipped silently down their cheeks as they were handed their belongings and escorted out. Harry stepped forward, instinctively. He placed a hand on one girl's shoulder, offering what little comfort he could.
"You'll be alright," he murmured, his voice quiet but firm. "You'll learn things they can't even teach here in the fighting hall. Don't be afraid."
But the monks didn't pause. There was no time for grief or hesitation. The girls were swept away, leaving Harry watching until they vanished from view. For a fleeting second, he imagined himself in their place. If the God Hand hadn't intervened at the river, if he hadn't survived that brutal night, he would have been dragged from the hall just like them, stripped of any chance to fight for his life, or to fight at all.
Through the chaos of movement and chatter, Harry noticed the seven supreme masters. Their eyes didn't wander like everyone else's, they were fixed on him, calculating, assessing, silent. Even the passing students seemed to shrink under their gaze.
"There is something about that Astania bastard," Master Caldwell murmured to the others, leaning slightly toward Master Frederick. "We must find out what it is."
Master Frederick nodded, lips pressed tight. "I agree. That blow… it wasn't human. There's a strength there that shouldn't exist. I need to know its source, its nature."
Harry, oblivious to the conversation, felt a chill creep down his spine. He returned to his quarters, dragging his eyes from the floor to the door, expecting the normal quiet of solitude. Instead, Master Kangfu was already there, waiting. His expression was tight, a mix of anger and fear, his gaze locking onto Harry like a vice.
"I told you not to show your strength," Kangfu said, his voice low, dangerous. Harry froze, then frowned. "Master, how was I supposed to win the combat without using my power? Andy, he was going to kill me."
Kangfu's jaw tightened. "You do not understand what you have done. You have drawn attention. Eyes that should never have been on you are now watching. You were supposed to rely on your natural abilities, not the God Hand."
Harry's stomach sank. "Attention? What attention? From who?"
"The seven supreme masters," Kangfu said sharply. He turned and began pacing, the robes brushing the floor. "They noticed. They saw the strike. The strike that should not be possible. The God Hand cannot remain visible in the open. Not yet. Not until you are ready to face the world."
Harry looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. The rubber hand Kangfu had fitted still covered the glowing artifact, hiding it from everyone else. Yet he could feel it, humming just beneath the surface. A quiet pulse that whispered power.
"You need to learn control," Kangfu continued, his voice steady but low, like a river flowing through a canyon. "The God Hand is not just strength. It is a focus, a force, a responsibility. If you cannot command it, it will command you. And if that happens…" His eyes hardened. "The world you know will come for your head."
Harry swallowed, his throat dry. He had never felt fear like this. Not when he was tied and thrown into the river. Not when Andy had struck him, nor when the Astania boys had tried to kill him. This fear was different. It was weighty, creeping into his bones, heavy and persistent.
"I. I understand," Harry said finally, voice tight. "I won't let it control me. I will master it."
Kangfu shook his head, his eyes softening just slightly. "You say that now, but this is no ordinary power. And those masters, they will not let it go unnoticed. You are marked, Harry. Marked for greatness, and at the same time, for danger."
Harry's thoughts raced. The blows from Andy. The silence of the arena. The gasp of the crowd. The awe and fear in the eyes of the seven supreme masters. It had all led here, to this heavy, suffocating awareness. He had survived. He had won. But now, the cost was not just his survival, it was the attention he had drawn, the consequences he could not yet see.
Kangfu reached forward and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Listen to me. For now, you must hide your abilities, even from your peers. Train in secret, strengthen your mind, temper your body. You are no longer just a student. You are something else. Something greater, something every great leader out there will come for."
Harry's heart raced. "They will come?"