In the years that followed, Aiden continued to hone Ryker's physical body with relentless precision. To Aiden, the body was the foundation of any warrior—awakened or unawakened alike. Without a strong and capable physique, no amount of talent or ambition could bridge the gap. A weak body would fail to excavate its true potential, leaving its owner to lag behind their peers.
Aiden introduced a variety of drills, each meticulously designed to train every facet of Ryker's physicality. He pushed Ryker to the very limits of what his body could endure, testing his strength, endurance, and resilience. After each grueling session, Aiden administered a carefully selected combination of body-tempering and foundation-establishment elixirs. Each elixir targeted a specific aspect of Ryker's development, enhancing and evolving his body in ways that defied logic. The compounded effects of these elixirs, amplified by the Phoenix Enhancing Elixirs, produced results that were nothing short of extraordinary.
Under this regimen, Ryker's body began to transform. His chest broadened, his biceps and triceps grew defined and powerful, and every muscle in his frame—from his neck to his legs—took on an optimal form. His physique became a living testament to the tireless work he and Aiden poured into his development, sculpted into an ideal state for combat and survival.
This rigorous training continued for two years, with Aiden steadily increasing the intensity to match Ryker's progress. By the time Ryker turned five, he completed his drills with the weight of his bracelets and leglets set to an astonishing 250 kilograms. Even with this immense resistance, he performed each exercise with remarkable ease, his movements fluid and controlled, as though the weight no longer hindered him at all. It was clear—Ryker had transcended the limits of what an unawakened body should be capable of.
With Ryker's body now fully optimized, Aiden shifted the focus to combat training. "The body is your weapon," Aiden said. "And now that we've forged it, it's time to teach you how to wield it."
For the first six months, Ryker's training consisted solely of mastering the fundamentals. Aiden drilled him relentlessly in the basics—punches, blocks, stances, and footwork. Each movement had to be practiced to perfection, repeated until it became instinctual. To ensure Ryker's reactions were seamless, Aiden integrated these techniques into his physical training drills, refining his ability to respond to any situation with speed and precision.
Ryker's perseverance and rapid adaptability impressed Aiden. By the end of the six months, Ryker could perform the fundamentals with a grace and efficiency that surpassed even Aiden's high expectations. And so, their sparring sessions began.
The courtyard became their arena. Father and son stood across from each other, their stances firm, their gazes locked. The tension in the air was palpable, as if the very ground beneath them was bracing for the clash.
Ryker's piercing gaze scanned Aiden for any sign of movement, any opening he could exploit. Aiden, meanwhile, stood relaxed, his posture deceptively casual, but his sharp eyes analyzed Ryker with the precision of a predator assessing its prey.
Then, Ryker moved.
His speed defied all logic, his figure blurring as he surged forward like a storm. In the blink of an eye, he was in front of Aiden, his clenched fist barreling down like a descending mountain. The force of his punch was immense, a testament to the years of strength training he had endured.
Aiden smirked, the faintest glimmer of amusement flickering in his eyes. At the last possible moment, he leaned to the side, dodging the punch by a hair's breadth. But Ryker had anticipated this. Using the momentum from his punch, he smoothly redirected his hand, pivoting into an elbow strike aimed at Aiden's new position.
The transition was seamless, but Aiden was no ordinary opponent. With the back of his hand, he struck the underside of Ryker's elbow, deflecting the attack with precise timing. In the same motion, Aiden countered with a palm strike to Ryker's stomach.
The palm struck true, the impact sending a shockwave through Ryker's core and forcing him to stumble backward. But Aiden gave him no time to recover. With a burst of speed, he closed the gap, unleashing a relentless flurry of punches and kicks.
Ryker found himself on the defensive, his mind racing to keep up with the onslaught. He activated his perception, pushing it to its very limits. Time seemed to slow as his heightened senses allowed him to perfectly read Aiden's attacks, their trajectories and angles unfolding before him like a map. It was this clarity that enabled him to dodge the majority of the strikes, though some still found their mark, each blow sending ripples of pain through his body.
Realizing that he couldn't win by staying on the defensive, Ryker made a bold decision. He abandoned his defensive stance and went on the offensive. As Aiden threw a punch aimed at Ryker's face, Ryker ducked, allowing the punch to pass harmlessly over his head. Before he could counter, however, Aiden's leg shot out in a swift kick aimed at Ryker's head.
Ryker blocked the kick with the back of his fist and, with lightning-quick reflexes, aimed a punch directly at Aiden's groin.
Aiden's eyes widened in horror as he jumped back, his hands instinctively covering his crotch. "You little—!" he began, his voice filled with incredulity. He stared at Ryker, his expression a mix of shock and outrage.
Ryker shrugged nonchalantly, as if to say, What did you expect?
Aiden's face turned red with rage. Pointing a trembling finger at Ryker, he growled, "How dare you use such a method! Don't you know you came out of there, you ungrateful whelp? It seems you've forgotten how petty I can be. No matter—I have plenty of time to teach you."
Before Ryker could respond, Aiden appeared before him like a ghost, his palm bearing down on Ryker's cheek. Ryker's perception allowed him to see the slap coming, but he quickly realized he couldn't dodge it.
Paaa! The sound of the slap echoed through the training room.
But Aiden wasn't satisfied. He resolved to give Ryker a beating he would never forget. A flurry of brutal attacks rained down on Ryker, each one hitting its mark. Ryker screamed in agony, but Aiden refused to stop.
Desperate, Ryker suddenly had an epiphany. "I'll tell Mother about this if you don't stop!" he shouted.
That seemed to get through to Aiden. His hand froze mid-air, his expression shifting from rage to alarm. For a moment, the room was silent, save for Ryker's labored breathing.
As Aiden's hand froze mid-air in response to Ryker's sudden declaration, the young boy smirked triumphantly. He knew exactly how to exploit his father's Achilles' heel—his mother. Ryker straightened slightly, still aching from the onslaught but buoyed by his quick wit.
"You know, Father," Ryker began with mock innocence, "for someone so intimidating, you fold faster than a deck of cards whenever Mother's involved. It's almost like you're… afraid of her."
Aiden blinked, visibly flustered. "Afraid of her?" he repeated, his voice rising slightly. "Don't be ridiculous! I'm not afraid of anyone, least of all your mother!"
Ryker raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Really? Because you stopped mid-air just now like a kid caught stealing cookies. It's okay, you can admit it—it's kind of adorable."
Aiden opened his mouth to retort, but Ryker wasn't done. "I mean, what's the worst that could happen? She gives you the 'look'? Wait—" Ryker gasped dramatically, pretending to clutch his chest. "She takes away your dinner privileges?"
Aiden groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're impossible," he muttered, though the corners of his lips twitched as if holding back a smile. "And for your information, I didn't stop because I'm afraid of her. I stopped because I didn't want to traumatize you any further."
Ryker snorted. "Sure, Father, whatever helps you sleep at night."
Aiden huffed, but he couldn't hide the glint of amusement in his eyes. "If I were afraid of your mother, do you think I'd have survived this long? Let me remind you, Ryker, I've faced opponents far more terrifying than her."
Ryker leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. "Far more terrifying, huh? But I notice you don't argue with her—ever. You just nod and agree like a good little soldier."
Aiden threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Fine. I'll admit she has… persuasive methods."
"Oh, is that what you call her death glare?" Ryker quipped, laughing despite his aching body. "Persuasive methods. Nice, very diplomatic."
Aiden shook his head, a reluctant smile breaking through his stoic exterior. "I see where you get your insufferable attitude from."
Ryker grinned, a flash of mischief in his eyes. "That's all Mother, by the way. You can't take credit for my brilliance."
You'll pay for this little stunt during tomorrow's training."
I'll be ready
."The playful exchange ended with Ryker nursing his sore muscles and Aiden watching him with an amused glint. The training session might have been brutal, but moments like these made it clear—they were far more than teacher and student. They were family, bound by a mixture of shared determination and lighthearted banter.
Ryker staggered out of the training room, his body aching from the relentless sparring session. Despite the pain, he couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Every bruise, every sore muscle was a testament to his growth. He had stood his ground against Aiden, even if it had ended with a slap and a barrage of attacks.
As he made his way to his mother's cultivation chamber for his daily meditation, Ryker reflected on the day's events. His father's training was brutal, but it was undeniably effective. Each session pushed him closer to his goal, shaping him into the warrior he aspired to become.
Lila was already seated in her usual spot when Ryker entered the chamber. Her golden eyes flicked up from her book, scanning him with a mixture of amusement and concern. "Rough day?" she asked, her tone light but knowing.
"You could say that," Ryker replied, settling onto the meditation platform. He closed his eyes, letting the familiar hum of the Ethereal Mind Scripture fill his consciousness. The golden threads from his weapon of will began to weave through his mental realm, repairing and reinforcing the constructs within.
As the meditation progressed, Ryker felt the tension in his body ease. The pain dulled, replaced by a soothing warmth that spread through his limbs. His mind cleared, and the events of the day seemed to fade into the background. By the time he opened his eyes, he felt renewed, ready to face whatever challenges awaited him.
Meanwhile, back in the training room, Aiden stood alone, his arms crossed as he replayed the sparring session in his mind. Despite his outward frustration, he couldn't deny the pride swelling in his chest. Ryker's growth was undeniable. His adaptability, his determination, and even his audacity—it all pointed to a future where Ryker would surpass even his wildest expectations.
"He's going to be a monster," Aiden muttered to himself, a small smile breaking through his stern facade. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."