As the roar of the crowd faded behind him, Niran stepped down from the ring, his breath still heavy. His muscles ached from the fight, but his mind was focused elsewhere. He hadn't expected to be called to fight in that arena, nor to face an opponent from the Ascendants. Even less had he expected to win.
A man in an elegant suit approached him with a small smile, handing him an envelope.
"This is your reward for tonight's show."
Niran took it, barely lifting the flap to see inside: neatly stacked banknotes, enough to cover the dojo's expenses and his upkeep for at least two weeks. A relief, but also another piece in an increasingly intricate puzzle. Why did they want him here? Who had orchestrated all of this?
Finding no immediate answers, he decided to leave the underground arena. Once outside, he realized the first light of dawn was painting Bangkok in golden hues. The city's air, still fresh, wrapped around him as he walked aimlessly. He didn't want to return to the dojo just yet. The tension of the fight still lingered in his body, and the awakening city had something hypnotic about it.
The streets began to fill with street vendors setting up their stalls. The scent of freshly cooked food mingled with the pungent aroma of spices and the metallic tang of the metropolis, still damp with dew. As he moved forward, a particular stall caught his eye. Among the trinkets and timeworn objects, there was a bronze bracelet, dull and engraved with symbols that seemed to belong to a distant era.
"Interested?" asked the vendor, an elderly man with sharp eyes.
Niran stepped closer, picking up the bracelet between his fingers. It was cold, but it seemed to pulse faintly, as if holding a latent energy.
"Where does it come from?"
The vendor smiled. "It belonged to an ancient fighter, a master of a devastating palm technique. They say he could shatter an opponent's guard with a single strike and even break their bones. I don't know if the stories are true, but time has made it a rare artifact."
Niran studied it for a moment longer, then purchased it without hesitation. Perhaps it was just a relic, but if it contained remnants of a warrior from the past, it could be something more.
---
Back at the dojo, he found Kao training, performing exercises that mirrored the ones he himself had practiced over the past two weeks. His young companion had grown again, now nearly reaching a meter and a half.
"You'll be taller than your mother at this rate," Niran commented with a faint smile.
Kao looked at him with bright eyes, scratching his head before returning to his exercises. Niran sat on one of the tatami mats, observing the bracelet in his hand before calling out to Sakchai in his mind.
"Tell me something, Sakchai. How exactly does my ability to learn techniques from the DNA of ancient fighters work?"
Sakchai appeared beside him, arms crossed and gaze thoughtful. "I haven't fully figured it out myself, but I've identified two key conditions. First, the DNA contained in the object must be at least a hundred years old. Not just old DNA residues, but DNA that belonged to someone who lived at least a century ago."
Niran nodded. "And the second?"
"You must be in a state of extreme physical stress. Your body has to be pushed to its limit, or you need to induce the stress through a breathing technique. Only then does your body seem to absorb the essence of the technique and interpret it."
Niran reflected on these words, then raised the bracelet. "What if we tried now?"
Sakchai smirked. "I'll guide you. But be prepared, it might be painful."
Niran knelt down, closing his eyes as Sakchai instructed him on a new breathing technique. He inhaled deeply, feeling his heart slow for a moment, then exhaled sharply, repeating the cycle several times. Each breath shortened the time between heartbeats, each inhalation seemed to push his body beyond its limits.
A wave of heat surged through him.
Then, the world around him dissolved.
He found himself in a dark arena, with only the dim glow of torches illuminating the stone floor. Sakchai stood beside him, expression unreadable.
Before them, a figure emerged from the shadows. A massive man, with sculpted muscles and a severe gaze. His eyes seemed to pierce through Niran, assessing him. Then his voice echoed through the void:
"Are you my new master?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Niran clenched his fists, his heartbeat quickening. He knew he was about to take another step forward, and that this encounter could change everything.