GENESIS
Today, she was going to die.
At least, that's how it felt. The pain from the first day of training had left a lasting mark on her spirit. She couldn't imagine going through it again. Whatever they had done to her body yesterday had dulled the pain today—there was only a slight burn now—but the fear was still there.
She tried to stay calm and remember what the girls had told her. Kieran—Knight, as they called him—had brought her here to train. To get stronger. That part hadn't been a shock. He had promised to teach her how to fight.
But she hadn't expected him to leave her here and return to the estate without a word.
She was upset with him.
Still, Cady's voice echoed in her mind: "Use this time apart and get stronger. Prove to Knight that you're capable of more."
Was she capable of more?
The answer came faster than she expected.
Yes. Yes, I am.
Even though she wished Kieran hadn't left her, there were at least a few familiar faces around. Or there had been. She hadn't seen Cady or the others since morning. And right now, all she really wanted was to talk to Kieran… or at least to Daisy. It was Daisy's birthday today.
Before her thoughts could spiral further, a voice snapped her back to reality.
"I'm Saeko-sensei," said a middle-aged woman, giving a small bow.
She wore a crisp white training uniform with a red belt tied firmly around her waist—so unlike the plain white belt wrapped around genesis. Unsure of what to do, she bowed in return.
"Yesterday, you had a session with Divine Selene," Saeko said, her eyes scanning her evenly. "That was your first official training session."
Was that a question? It didn't seem like it. Still, she nodded.
"Today," Saeko-sensei said, her voice firm, "we will be using those."
She pointed toward the far end of the training room, where rows of equipment lined the walls: wooden dummies, padded training bags, bokken (wooden swords), makiwara boards for striking practice, and kicking shields. On one side, a long tatami mat stretched across the floor—soft but durable, ideal for throwing and grappling drills.
There were also a few more intimidating tools: weighted vests, resistance cords, bamboo sticks, and what looked like a suspended tire hanging from the ceiling. The air smelled faintly of sweat and wood polish.
Genesis swallowed hard.
Saeko moved across the floor with a quiet kind of grace, her deep red belt tied neatly around her waist—an unmistakable symbol of her mastery. Red belts were rare in most traditional Japanese martial arts, usually ranking above black, reserved for grandmasters or 9th/10th dan in systems like karate, judo, or jiujitsu.
Saeko was no joke.
Genesis felt her stomach twist.
"You are still in your beginning stages," Saeko said, gesturing toward Genesis's own plain white belt. "But today, we push the boundary of pain, not to break you, but to show you that you do not know your limits yet."
Genesis didn't respond, she couldn't. She just nodded, still standing stiffly in her uniform, hands clenched.
"I will not lie to you," Saeko continued, folding her hands behind her back. "This training will make you want to quit. Cry. Even run. But if you stay… you will begin to awaken a part of yourself you have never met before."
Their eyes met.
Something in Saeko's calm stare made Genesis straighten her shoulders.
"Start with the makiwara," Saeko said, motioning to the tall striking post wrapped in straw. "Bare hands. Twenty punches each side."
Genesis stared at the rough padding on the makiwara. Her knuckles were still raw from yesterday, but she nodded and walked toward it.
Saeko's voice followed her, firm but not unkind:
"Control. Breath. No flinching."
Genesis stood before the makiwara. Raised her fists. And struck.
The first hit sent a sharp sting through her already bruised knuckles. The straw-wrapped post didn't give, it pushed back, very solid, as if daring her to try again.
She hit it a second time.
Then a third.
By the fifth punch, her skin had split open again.
Blood welled up, trailing slowly over her fingers.
"Keep going," Saeko said without raising her voice. "Do not stop unless I say so."
Genesis's jaw clenched. Her breathing came short now, faster. She struck again. Again. The pain shot up her arms with every impact, and by the tenth punch, tears were already slipping down her cheeks, silent, unwilling, but real.
"Don't wipe them," Saeko warned calmly as she passed behind her. "Let them fall. Pain is part of the work. Do not insult it by hiding it."
Genesis didn't wipe them.
She kept punching.
Her legs trembled under her, her breath ragged. But something inside her refused to quit. Even when blood smeared across the straw and her knuckles throbbed in time with her heartbeat.
She reached twenty punches with her dominant hand, barely.
Saeko appeared at her side. "Switch."
Genesis turned, hesitating only a second before raising her weaker hand.
The first strike made her shoulder jolt. Her form faltered.
"Lower your shoulder," Saeko instructed. "You're compensating for fear. The makiwara isn't your enemy. Your doubt is."
Genesis didn't respond. She just adjusted and hit again.
The second hand hurt worse. The skin hadn't broken yet, but her wrist bent slightly wrong with each punch, and the internal sting felt deeper, like pain blooming from inside the bone.
She hit again.
And again.
And again.
Her vision blurred, half from the tears, half from the sting of sweat dripping into her eyes. By the fourteenth punch, her knees buckled slightly.
She bit her lip hard to stop herself from crying out.
"Do not soften," Saeko said behind her. "You break your own body when you hesitate."
Genesis screamed, not out loud, but inside her head as her hand connected again.
Nineteen.
Twenty.
She stumbled back, blood coating both hands now, breathing hard, tears dripping freely.
"Good," Saeko said. "You've survived Round One."
Genesis didn't feel good. She felt like collapsing.
But before she could catch her breath, Saeko pointed to the next station.
"Push-ups. Weighted vest. Ten."
Genesis blinked.
The vest sat folded neatly on the mat. It looked harmless. But when she lifted it, the weight dragged her arms down like iron. She staggered a little as she strapped it on, the pressure pulling down on her shoulders, pressing into her sore ribs.
She dropped to the mat.
Her palms hit the floor—raw, torn, smeared with dried blood.
And then she started.
One.
Her arms trembled instantly.
Two.
The vest crushed down on her spine like a second body.
Three.
Her elbows wobbled. Her shoulders already screamed.
Four.
She clenched her jaw, eyes burning with tears.
Five.
Her arms buckled. She collapsed onto the mat, face brushing the floor, her chest heaving.
Saeko's voice came from above.
"If you fall, fall forward. Don't lie there."
Genesis whimpered, not from weakness, but frustration and pushed herself up again, arms shaking violently beneath her.
Six.
Seven.
Every inch upward felt like lifting bricks with her bones.
Eight.
Her breath was ragged now. Snot ran down her nose, tears spilled freely.
Nine.
She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.
Ten.
She dropped to the mat like her bones had turned to liquid.
She lay there, unmoving, face turned to the side. Her body wasn't just sore—it was done.
Saeko didn't praise her. She only nodded.
"Get up. You're not done."
Genesis didn't respond. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Her mind was foggy.
Saeko's shadow fell over her.
"You want to stop now?" the woman asked quietly. "Or do you want to see what's inside you?"
Genesis blinked, her vision still blurry. Her lips parted, but she couldn't speak.
"Come," Saeko said. "I'll show you first."
She turned, walking across the mat without looking back.
Genesis pushed herself up slowly, every joint screaming. The vest still weighed her down like wet armor, but she followed.
Saeko stopped before a large humanoid dummy, metal base, padded body, multiple mechanical limbs rigged with hydraulic movement. Its "face" was featureless, save for faint pressure sensors marked where the jaw and nose would be. Two arms rested at its sides, with padding on the forearms for blocking and striking drills.
"This is a reactive combat dummy," Saeko explained. "Its programming mimics the timing and rhythm of a real opponent. I can scale it from passive to full engagement."
Genesis swallowed hard, silently pleading for it not to move yet.
Saeko stepped forward.
Her stance dropped instantly into something fluid—low, grounded. One breath.
Then she exploded forward.
Her elbow drove into the dummy's core. It reacted with a slow right hook, she ducked, pivoted, and struck the side of its "head" with a sharp palm-heel. Then a sweep kick. The dummy responded with faster footwork this time, its limbs adjusting mid-motion.
Genesis blinked.
It was like watching a ghost strike steel.
Saeko didn't break rhythm, her movements were not just fast, but efficient. She parried, countered, locked the dummy's wrist, and drove a sharp knee into its solar plexus sensor.
The dummy went still.
"Easy mode," Saeko said, straightening. "Designed to read your first move and respond with minimal resistance."
She looked at Genesis.
"Your turn."
Genesis stared at the thing, shaking her head.
"You learn by doing," Saeko cut in. "Take position. Vest stays on."
Genesis stepped forward, wobbling slightly. She lifted her fists.
Saeko tapped a button on a small remote.
The dummy hummed.
Then moved.
A soft jab came toward her face. Slow. Gentle, even.
Genesis panicked anyway.
She flinched, turning sideways, her guard messy.
The dummy didn't strike further.
"You won't learn if you keep retreating," Saeko said, folding her arms.
Genesis exhaled shakily.
She refocused. Raised her fists properly this time. When the jab came again, she stepped in, not away and threw a punch of her own. It landed with a dull thud against the dummy's side.
Saeko gave no reaction.
But she pressed the remote again.
The dummy moved slightly faster now. Jab, then a follow-up palm strike toward her chest.
Genesis blocked the first one, but the second knocked her off-balance. She stumbled.
Saeko stepped beside her. "Weight low. Stop relying on your arms alone. Power comes from the hips."
Genesis nodded, jaw tight.
"Again."
They repeated the sequence three times. Then four.
Each time, the dummy adjusted, its strikes speeding up, reacting sharper, harder. Genesis got hit more than she hit back but something strange started to happen.
She stopped fearing the contact.
Her feet began to move better.
She started to breathe between hits instead of holding it all in.
Her strikes weren't perfect but they landed.
Finally, Saeko raised the remote.
"Level three," she said.
Genesis blinked.
Saeko smiled. "That was still easy."
She clicked.
The dummy lunged.
This time, Genesis didn't have time to think. It sent a jab and low kick combination that nearly swept her. She dodged the first but took the second on her thigh and grunted. Her body spun. She recovered—and struck the chest panel with a wild hammerfist that hit a little too far left.
"Again," Saeko said.
Genesis turned. Gritted her teeth. And lunged back in.
It was chaos. The dummy moved like a real opponent now, off rhythm, dynamic, punching low, then high, fainting a jab then sweeping its arm up in a counter-blow. She took another hit to the shoulder. Blocked the next one. She ducked, spun, punched.
Blood smeared from her hand to the dummy's side.
The machine reset. The round ended.
She stepped back, chest heaving.
"Good," Saeko said. "Now watch."
She stepped forward again, this time setting the remote to level five.
The highest.
The dummy's limbs activated fully. Fast, sharp movements. A flurry of strikes with real intent.
Saeko didn't flinch.
She moved like water around blades.
Every strike she blocked, redirected, punished. Her footwork was soundless, her arms snapping like coiled rope. In under fifteen seconds, she had the dummy in a simulated lock, arm twisted behind its back and a knee pressing into the lower spine joint.
The dummy deactivated.
Genesis stared in awe.
Saeko turned to her.
"One day," she said, voice cool, "you will do the same."
Genesis wasn't sure she believed that.
But she was sure of one thing.
She was getting better and it felt so damn good.