Page 1
Mabu stands firm beneath the boulder. Teeth clenched. Eyes locked on a fixed point ahead of him.
Thian heads off to get some food.
CRASH.
Thian turns to find the old man has placed the boulder across Mabu's shoulders — and the ground beneath his feet has cracked slightly.
In his imagination — Mabu, at full seriousness, muscles that don't belong on a boy his age, lifting the boulder with one hand and grinding out squats like a machine. Unstoppable. Endless.
Page 2
Thian returns to reality.
The real Mabu: eyes rolling back, face the color of a tomato, breath coming in short desperate gasps like a man meeting his end.
Thian pauses for one moment.
Then spits out his food and collapses on the ground laughing.
"Damn you, Thian!" — Mabu's voice, muffled and hoarse from somewhere under the boulder.
Thian laughs harder. Mabu bites down and forces out the first squat.
Page 3
He stalls halfway through the second. Can't come back up.
He breathes. Resets. Makes it.
Thian stops laughing and watches.
The second. Thian takes a step closer.
Third. Fourth. Mabu screams at the weight.
Fifth.
He drops the boulder and falls face-first into the ground. Doesn't move.
Page 4
Thian stands over him and looks down with complete sincerity:
"I'm genuinely impressed."
One slow, single clap.
Mabu raises one finger from the dirt. That's all he has.
The old man's voice:
"You both passed. Today marks the end of the preliminary training — it was only a simplified version of what's real. Tomorrow, the true training begins."
Thian: "What kind of training?"
The old man smiles — the kind of smile that reveals absolutely nothing.
"Sleep well tonight. Tomorrow, early… you'll see."
Page 5
The rooster crows before dawn.
The old man wakes them without mercy. They dress in the fog of half-sleep.
The three of them set out toward the training ground — a long walk through silence, the village falling away behind them — until a vast forest rises before them.
Page 6
Trees that pierce the sky. Trunks wider than the houses of the village.
Mabu walks close to the old man. He doesn't admit this.
They press deeper until the last sounds of the village disappear entirely.
The old man stops.
"We're here."
Mabu looks around. Nothing but trees.
"Your new training is… breaking these trees."
Page 7
Mabu stares at him: "But… where are the axes?"
BOOM.
One punch from the old man.
A cluster of trees folds to the ground like dry leaves in wind.
The old man raises his hand slowly. Mabu catches it — just for a moment — the hand has gone black. Then the color fades, bleeding away like smoke, as if it was never there.
Page 8
Mabu's mouth opens. Nothing comes out.
Thian's eyes light up: "Grandfather… you're incredibly strong!"
The old man turns to face them both.
"This is your training."
Page 9
"Strengthen your fists. Two hours. Warm up first — then hit these trees with everything you have until they break."
Mabu lets out one involuntary laugh.
Page 10
"While you're at it, should we move the entire forest to the south? Don't be shy, Grandfather — just ask."
The old man: "Your goal is clear. No more talking."
Mabu: "You actually mean this is… real?!"
Page 11
"Yes. Real."
Mabu buries his face in his hands.
"Impossible."
"Nothing is impossible, Mabu."
"But — look at the size of them!"
Page 12
Tap.
A light knock on the back of Mabu's head from Thian.
"Quiet."
Thian turns to the old man with a calm smile: "Don't worry, Grandfather. Everything is under control."
The old man looks at Thian for a moment. Nods once.
"I'll leave it to you."
And he walks away between the trees — quiet, unhurried — until the forest swallows him completely.
Page 13
Mabu stands in front of the first tree. Circles it slowly. Studies it like an opponent.
Thian stands behind him:
"Breathe slowly. Take your stance. And hit with everything you have."
Page 14
Mabu breathes deep. Finds his footing. Takes the stance.
Hits.
The sound of something breaking.
His hand. Not the tree.
The tree is completely unaffected.
Mabu folds onto the ground screaming. Thian's laughter comes out of him in a wave he can't stop.
Page 15
"Alright. Move. My turn."
Thian widens his stance. Focuses. Hits.
The sound of something breaking.
His hand as well.
The tree doesn't care.
Now both of them are on the ground — Mabu writhing from pain and laughter at the same time.
Page 16
Thian composes himself eventually:
"Right… warm up first. Then we try again."
After warming up, Thian throws a harder punch.
A hairline crack appears in the tree.
He grips his swollen forearm — but a smile of genuine pride crosses his face and refuses to hide.
Mabu tries. Nothing. Tries again. Nothing.
Page 17
Time passes. The hits keep coming.
After every attempt, Thian's damage grows deeper.
Mabu doesn't stop. Hit, hurt, hit again.
Finally — faint, barely-there cracks appear in the tree before him.
He doesn't say anything. He just looks at them.
Page 18
Thian comes over and pats Mabu's shoulder with a hint of deliberate smugness:
"Don't get discouraged, Mabu. You'll improve with time. It's just that…"
A pause for effect.
"…I'm stronger than you."
Mabu spins around. Words come out of his mouth in a furious tangle that makes no sense. He lunges.
Thian places one palm flat on Mabu's forehead and holds him at arm's length — laughing — while Mabu swings at the air with absolute, total rage.
Page 19
The old man returns after two hours.
He stands before the trees. Studies the damage in silence.
Thian's marks are clear — deep, significant.
Thian points at Mabu's marks with exaggerated pride: "Ha! Look at that, Grandfather!"
Mabu turns toward him slowly. Real anger. He starts shouting.
Thian takes one step back — laughing and slightly afraid at the same time.
Page 20
"Your progress is very good. I did not expect to see any cracks today. I'm proud of you both."
Mabu stops shouting.
He puts his hands behind his head. Scratches his nose — embarrassed.
"As you can see, Grandfather… I've just been going easy so Thian doesn't feel too inferior."
Page 21
Thian looks at him sideways.
Mabu scratches his hair and smiles — a smile that convinces absolutely no one.
The three of them walk home.
Page 22
Mabu goes to wash his hands.
He freezes in front of the mirror.
His hands are swollen in a way he has never seen. Deep red, almost dark. Each one nearly the size of his own head.
He stares at them in long silence.
Page 23
The three of them eat dinner quietly.
"Tomorrow you return to the same place. Keep at this pace until you can break a tree with a single punch."
Mabu eats without speaking. His eyes drift to his swollen hands resting on the table.
Page 24
"Grandfather…"
The old man looks up.
"This morning — when you punched the tree — I saw your hand turn black for a moment. Was I imagining it?"
The old man sets his spoon down slowly. He looks at Mabu — eyes reading something far away.
Then he smiles. Quiet. Certain.
"Everything comes in its own time, Mabu. I will explain everything…"
A pause.
"…when the time is right."
Continued in Chapter Six