It had been 15 days since I joined the dojo, and I had already learned all the moves from the training script they provided. Honestly, it was all very basic—proper punching, kicking, side kicks, long kicks, mid kicks, and more. But martial arts didn't really interest me. What I truly wanted was brute strength combat. Maybe it was a side effect of my elephant DNA , I felt primal inside me, something wild, pushing me toward raw power rather than technique.
Right now, I had reached the 2800 mark in controlling my power. If everything went well today, I would one step closer to control the 30% DNA power of Elephant, I wanted to name this power but since I wasn't great at naming things, I decided to stick with it for now.
After breakfast, I booked a cab to the dojo. On the way, I called Grandma to check on her. She seemed to be enjoying her stay at Grandma Ivy's house. Ever since Ivy broke her leg, she hadn't been able to walk much, and the recovery process would take over a month. I had finally convinced my grandmother to stay there long-term, considering I was barely home anyway. She was hesitant at first, but after I showed her how much stronger and healthier I had become—lifting dumbbells as proof—she reluctantly agreed. I promised to visit her regularly.
When I reached the dojo, I started with my usual warm-ups—punches, kicks, stretches—before heading toward the power machine. Just as I was about to start my training, a boy and a girl stepped in front of me.
They introduced themselves with cocky expressions, then smirked as they made a ridiculous bet—whoever lost a fight would become the other's slave.
From the way the other apprentices whispered among themselves, it was obvious this wasn't the first time they had pulled this trick.
I had no patience for this nonsense. My focus was solely on controlling my power, and playing around with weaklings was a waste of time.
"I don't have time to mess around with pups."
The moment those words left my mouth, their smug faces twisted into anger.
"Who are you calling a pup, you little sh—?! Do you even know who I am?! I've been promoted to senior apprentice! I'm just working on my basics a bit more to become perfect. Do you get it now? Who's the real pup here?!"
The girl clung to his arm, nodding in agreement, as if that would make his words more convincing.
I couldn't help but smirk.
"Oh, I know exactly who the real pup is—the one who's supposedly a senior apprentice but still thinks he needs to work on basics. I thought the whole point of becoming a senior apprentice was to already have a strong foundation. But no, I guess it actually means… working more on basics while pretending to be superior. Sounds like a pup to me."
His face turned red with rage, and for a moment, I thought he might lunge at me. Just as he clenched his fists, a master dojo appeared.
The boy instantly froze.
The master's sharp gaze swept over the scene before his eyes locked onto the boy.
"Why are you still in the apprentice area instead of working on your new techniques?"
The so-called senior apprentice stiffened, then mumbled something under his breath. Clearly, he wasn't as confident when faced with authority.
The master didn't waste time.
"Both of you—return to the senior apprentice area."
The boy and girl shot me a glare before turning away. I barely even acknowledged them.
As the master walked past me, he paused.
"You have the potential to become a core apprentice… if you focus more on martial arts."
Then, without waiting for a reply, he walked away.
I didn't give it much thought. Martial arts weren't my goal. Iam more into brute fights I will think about it in future for martial arts
The next morning, my routine remained the same. After my warm-ups, I approached the punching machine and delivered a powerful strike. The number 2700 appeared on the screen.
I had been trying to reduce this number but kept hitting a plateau. Initially, I thought I could do it in 20 days, but I had progressed much faster than expected. Now, I was stuck.
As I stood there pondering my next step, the dojo master approached. He glanced at the machine's number but showed no surprise. His face was as unreadable as ever.
"You seem troubled," he observed.
I nodded. "I can't seem to reduce the number anymore."
The master studied me for a moment, then said, "Show me your punch again."
I did as he asked. Same result. 2700.
"If you only want to reduce the number," he said, "there's a way. Try using a feint before your actual punch. Let your power flow into the feint first, then deliver the real strike."
I listened carefully as he demonstrated the technique. A feint punch would disperse some of the initial power, making the actual punch more controlled.
I tried it.
To my astonishment, the number on the machine dropped drastically—from 2700 to 1500.
The master's expression didn't change, but I could tell he was impressed. "You learn fast," he noted. "You have a lot of potential in martial arts."
I simply replied, "I'll think about it in the future."
For the rest of the day, I kept refining the technique. Each time I reached a new benchmark, I used feints to adjust my control. When I hit 1600, I started feinting at that power level, then reduced it to 1400, then 1200, and finally 1100.
By evening, I had surpassed my own expectations.
On the way home, I called Grandma Lola.
"How are you doing?" I asked.
"I'm watching a movie, brat. Don't disturb me." Her voice was casual, but I could hear the excitement in the background.
"Grandma Ivy is loaded, huh?"
"Obviously. She's letting me enjoy life."
Then, I heard her shout, "Ivy, did you see that dinosaur?! He was huge!"
Jurassic Park. Nice.
"Now, brat, eat well, okay? And don't slack off in your new job."
I laughed. "Yeah, yeah. Enjoy your movie."
After reaching home, I sat in silence.
Today was the day.
I was finally going to break through in the Supreme Spiritual Scripture and move beyond the weak body that had haunted me for so long.