The embers of the fire cracked quietly as the sun fell beneath the distant mountains. Kai sat on a stump, drenched in sweat, breathing like a dog left in the summer heat. Sir 8 was sitting on a smooth, flat stone near the fire, taking swigs from a silver flask with a dent in it.
"You smell like desperation and underachievement," Sir 8 said, shaking the flask. "And oddly… cooked onions."
Kai peeled his shirt off and dropped it beside him, ignoring the jab. His torso was bruised, red lines blooming across his skin from the strikes earlier.
"I've never been hit that much in my life," he muttered.
Sir 8 raised a brow. "Then your life just began."
He stood, stretching his arms behind his head, his long dreads cascading down his back like ropes. "You're gonna be sore tomorrow. You'll think your bones are cursing you out. Your legs will feel like they're filled with lead. But… you'll remember how it felt to land that clean shot."
Kai smirked slightly, recalling that upward strike to Sir 8's ribs.
"I felt something when I hit you. Not just the strike… it felt like I knew it was gonna land."
Sir 8 nodded slowly. "That's your body talking. People with K.I.? They manipulate energy to enhance everything they do. But you…" He pointed his staff at Kai's chest. "You don't need it. You're tuned to something older."
Kai blinked. "Older?"
Sir 8 took a deep breath. "Before K.I., before spell chants and energy forms… there were warriors who mastered movement. Their muscle control, timing, flow, precision—they turned their bodies into art. Into weapons."
He crouched in front of the fire and drew in the dirt with a burnt stick.
"This is what we're building. A style without magic. Without crutches. Just bone, spirit, and discipline."
Midnight Talk
Later that night, they sat by the fire in silence, both holding plates of roasted roots and salted fish. Sir 8 seemed more distant than usual.
Kai broke the quiet. "Why'd you agree to train me anyway?"
Sir 8 didn't look up. "I didn't."
Kai frowned.
"You were annoying. I told you no at least a hundred times," Sir 8 continued.
"Hundred and three," Kai corrected.
Sir 8 chuckled. "Exactly. But when I saw you watching me spar with that bum in the alley—you moved like you'd seen it before. Like your muscles were copying it in real time."
He paused, his face suddenly serious.
"That's rare."
Kai looked down at his food. "But I still don't have K.I. That means I'll never be a real knight, right?"
Sir 8 leaned forward. "You think K.I. makes someone a knight?"
Kai hesitated.
"No," Sir 8 said firmly. "It doesn't. You know what makes someone a knight?"
Kai shrugged.
"Conviction. The refusal to kneel. The ability to fight when the world says you're supposed to stay down. If you've got that... your stick, your fists, your instincts—they'll be deadlier than any fireball."
Kai clenched the wooden fork in his hand. "Then I'll prove it."
Sir 8 grinned. "Good. Just remember this isn't magic school, Spell-less. I'm gonna break you first. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally."
"Why?" Kai asked.
Sir 8 leaned back and took another swig from his flask. "Because once you're broken, we can rebuild you into something… dangerous."
Morning After
The next day, Kai could barely stand. His legs trembled like overcooked noodles. His back screamed with each breath. Even his fingernails hurt somehow.
"You alive?" Sir 8 asked, casually doing one-armed pushups.
Kai growled from the ground. "Barely."
"Perfect. Now grab your stick. Today we learn something fun. It's called the Bone Tap."
Kai blinked. "That sounds… painful."
"Oh, it is. But for them, not you."
The Bone Tap and the Flow
Sir 8 demonstrated. He gripped the staff differently, more relaxed, and performed a short sequence of motions that flowed like wind and water. His strikes landed on a dead tree stump with shocking precision—each hit targeting imaginary joints, pressure points, and tendons.
"Everyone swings for power," Sir 8 explained. "But this… this is about disabling. Collapsing. Crippling. It's smart violence."
Kai copied him, clumsy at first—but then started to move smoother with each repetition. His strikes lacked strength, but they flowed. And they landed.
Sir 8's eyes narrowed. "You're learning too fast again."
Kai grinned. "Is that bad?"
"It's creepy," Sir 8 muttered.
End of Day 2
As the sun set again, they sat back by the fire.
"You really are a freak," Sir 8 said, tossing his stick aside.
Kai laughed. "Thanks… I think?"
Then Sir 8 cracked up. A real, deep laugh.
Kai looked confused. "What?"
Sir 8 wiped tears from his eyes. "You really think we've been training?"
Kai's face dropped. "What?!"
Sir 8 smirked, leaning back. "That wasn't training. That was a warm-up, kid. I haven't even started teaching you anything real yet."
Kai stood, fists clenched. "Then what the hell was all of that?!"
Sir 8 pointed at him. "That? That was to see if you'd quit."
Kai opened his mouth—then paused.
He hadn't quit.
Sir 8's voice softened. "Most people do."
Then he looked at Kai, serious.
"But tomorrow... we start real training."
Kai's eyes lit up.
"And I promise," Sir 8 said, grinning again, "it'll make you cry in languages you don't even speak."