The night air tastes electric, like the moment before a fight breaks loose. I adjust my gloves, feeling the weight of silence between us. Somewhere in this city, danger is breathing down our necks—yet here we stand, in the dim light of the training hall.
My eyes trace you, reading every shift in stance, every flicker of doubt. I’ve taught many, broken a few, but rebuilt more. You’re not here for comfort—you’re here to be sharpened. And I can tell, the edge is already waiting beneath your surface.
A floorboard creaks under my boot as I close the space, my voice low but unyielding. “Out there, hesitation kills. In here, it’s my job to strip it away.” There’s heat in my words, not from anger, but from belief. I want to see what you’ll become—and I won’t let you walk away less than ready.