They stepped into the training room.
In the center, a young man was doing push-ups with one finger.
Impressive, sure. But his finger wasn’t actually touching the floor. It hovered an inch above the stone, supporting his entire weight on nothing.
Rain’s lips twitched into a half-smile. He tilted his head, studying the strange scene.
’Force manipulation? Or just gravity? Whatever it is, it’s really impressive.’
"This is Subject Seven. Ronaldo," Jackson explained. "One of the first to wake up."
"I have questions," Rain stepped forward, skipping the pleasantries.
The young man rose without using his hands, the motion too animated to be natural.
"What do you want to know?" Ronaldo asked, his eyes empty—like windows to a fire long extinguished.
"Everything."
The explanation was a ss of half-rembered mories.
The First Rite. The transition to another place. A city teeming with people who could do things that made physics look like a lie.
Rain straightened when the inhabitants were ntioned.
"They weren’t from our Earth," Ronaldo clarified.
"Not from Earth. But you were able to understand them sohow?"
"Yes. They spoke clearly to . They said I could leave if I passed the second rite, but I couldn’t return until our world was ready. They didn’t say what for. Just that the Nightmare would keep spreading."
The gaps in logic multiplied the more he talked
"The power. Does everyone get a gift for surviving?"
"I’m an exception. ’Blessed by Darkness,’ they called . Others... they have to learn. They have to—"
Ronaldo suddenly clutched his head. His face twisted, eyes rolling back. "I... can’t... it hurts..."
"What’s wrong with him?" Rain probed Jackson.
"That reaction is normal. Most of them lose their mories much sooner. Number Seven kept most of his. But pushing himself gives him severe headaches."
Rain let the kid get his bearings before proceeding with his next agenda.
"Director. I would like to test his ability through live combat."
"Of course. Number 7 please follow his instructions."
Confusion flickered across the young man’s face, but he still took his stance.
It wasn’t the stance of an athlete; it was the desperate crouch of a man who had spent months being hunted.
"Try to kill ," Rain’s arms opened wide, exposing his entire chest.
Ronaldo’s jaw tightened. "Don’t bla if you end up in a bag."
He pulled his leg back. The air around his foot rippled. Pressure built up like a boiling kettle.
Ten seconds of charging. Then, he let it go.
BANG.
The repulsive force tore through the torso, launching Rain backward. He slamd into the reinforced concrete wall with a loud crunch. The wall buckled, swallowing him whole.
Crack.
Rain reached out, his fingers digging into the cracked stone.
Slowly, he pulled himself out of the crater. His bones groaned as they knit back together.
"Not bad. I actually felt that one." He spat a mouthful of blood and grinned.
Ronaldo looked like he’d seen a ghost. "How are you standing?"
He threw that kick with the montum of a runaway car, a strike ant to end lives, not get complints.
Rain rolled his shoulders, snapping them into place with each crack. "How about we spar a bit?"
The gesture was harmless enough, but it sent a jolt through the young man. His survival instinct scread at him to run.
"Don’t co closer!" Ronaldo stepped back.
"If you’re not going to move...Then I will."
Rain’s feet struck the floor. Each step hit with the force of a racing horse.
Ronaldo panicked. He launched another repulsion kick, but the force was countered and bounced back, sending him flying through the air.
He barely landed on his feet.
"How does this even make sense?" Sweat dripped down the young man’s face as he pushed off the floor.
"Stop holding back. Or is this your best?" Rain took a single step forward, arms loose at his sides.
"Damn it.!" Ronaldo’s stance changed, weight dropping lower. "I didn’t survive that hell for nothing.
"Good attitude."
They traded more blows, faster with each exchange. The impacts rattled the floor, sending shockwaves through the room, but neither gave ground.
In the corner, the spectators couldn’t look away.
Ronaldo was top five in terms of combat ability, and yet he was struggling against pure physical strength.
The worst part: he was losing speed, while his opponent moved like a machine, tireless and relentless.
’Too slow. Too predictable.’
Rain stepped inside his opponent’s guard and drove a fist into the solar plexus. No magic. Just lean muscle and perfect timing.
Ronaldo hit the floor and stayed there, wheezing.
"That was a good warm up" Rain’s casually comnted.
Ronaldo’s hand scraped against the floor as he dragged himself upright, ribs aching with every movent.
"You’re definitely stronger than . But that place... it’s full of even bigger threats. You won’t even get a chance to breathe before you’re dead."
"Interesting." Rain’s lips curved.
Not out of anger.
Not relief.
Hunger for more.
The temperature didn’t change — but the room felt smaller.
Ronaldo opened his mouth, but no words ca out.
The monsters in the nightmare world scread when hungry. The one in front of him was smiling.
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