The Last Nightmare

Nate could still feel the weight of Kai's strikes on his body. The bruises hadn't even fully formed yet, but the deep ache in his ribs told him they were coming. He lay on his back, staring up at the endless stretch of stars overhead, his breath ragged, his katana still lying inches from his fingers.

It wasn't just pain. It was exhaustion. Defeat.

But not hopelessness.

He exhaled slowly, feeling the sting of his split lip. His body screamed for rest, for surrender—but his mind refused.

Because this time, something was different.

Kai hadn't just beaten him. He had tested him. And for the first time, Nate had lasted long enough for Kai to acknowledge his efforts.

Even if it was just a flicker of amusement in the older warrior's eyes, it was there.

And that meant something.

Darius had laughed as he helped Nate back to his feet, giving him a solid pat on the shoulder.

"You're still alive. That's a win in itself, kid."

Elena had been more concerned, giving Kai a glare before tossing Nate a damp cloth to clean the blood off his face.

"You push yourself too hard," she had murmured.

But they didn't understand.

Nate wasn't just fighting Kai. He was fighting himself.

His limits.

His doubts.

His fear.

And he was winning.

Even in his pain, there was an undeniable truth rising in his chest—

He was getting stronger.

---

The world was quiet when Nate slipped out of camp.

The fire had burned low, its embers barely glowing. Darius was snoring somewhere, and Elena had long since gone to rest. Even Kai had disappeared into the shadows, leaving Nate alone with his aching body and restless mind.

He picked up his katana and walked into the darkness.

He replayed the spar in his head.

Kai's movements— sharp, efficient, devastatingly fast.

Kai's counterattacks— calculated, always a step ahead.

Kai's strength— overwhelming, but not invincible.

There had been gaps. Not many—but they existed.

And if he could find them, he could exploit them.

He planted his feet in the dirt, took a deep breath, and swung.

The katana carved through the air, but it wasn't right.

Again.

His grip tightened. He moved faster.

Again.

His footwork adjusted, mimicking the precise shifts in stance that Kai had used.

Again.

The sweat rolled down his face, but he didn't stop.

Again.

The world blurred as his body screamed in protest, but he ignored it.

Because this was his battle.

His mind, his muscles, his very soul—it all burned, pushing past the pain.

Because pain wasn't an enemy.

Pain was the lesson.

And he was ready to learn.

---

"Can't sleep?"

The voice came from the darkness.

Nate spun, katana raised, but he already knew who it was.

Kai leaned casually against a tree, arms crossed, an amused smirk playing at his lips. The firelight from the distant camp barely touched his face, leaving half of it in shadows.

How long had he been watching?

Nate didn't ask. Instead, he tightened his grip on his sword. He wasn't done.

Kai tilted his head. "You're pushing yourself too hard. A real warrior knows when to rest."

Nate exhaled, chest rising and falling. His arms trembled slightly from the strain, but his stance didn't waver.

"I'll rest when I'm stronger."

Kai's smirk deepened. "Hah. That so?"

Nate nodded, his eyes sharp. "Fight me again."

Kai let out a quiet chuckle. "You're barely standing. What makes you think it'll be any different this time?"

Nate's jaw clenched. "Because I learned."

Kai's amusement faded slightly. His eyes narrowed, studying Nate carefully.

Then—

"Fine."

---

The wind was still as they faced each other.

Kai didn't even draw his dagger this time. He didn't need to.

Nate raised his katana, every muscle in his body taut, every nerve on edge.

Kai didn't move. He was waiting.

Nate lunged.

His blade cut through the air, faster than before, more precise.

Kai sidestepped—easily, effortlessly—but Nate had expected that.

Instead of overcommitting, he shifted mid-motion, twisting on his heel, swinging the blade in a sharp, unexpected arc.

Kai blocked it with his forearm, the dull clang of steel against leather echoing through the trees. His expression flickered—not with surprise, but with interest.

"Hm."

Nate didn't let up.

He pressed forward, throwing a series of quick, relentless strikes—each one sharper, each one closer.

Kai dodged and countered, but the space between them was growing thinner.

Nate was learning.

He saw the openings, the micro-movements in Kai's posture before he attacked.

And then—

A gap.

Small. Barely there.

But enough.

Nate moved without thinking, twisting his body, shifting his grip—

And struck.

It wasn't deep. Just a graze along Kai's arm.

But it landed.

For the first time.

Nate staggered back, panting, chest rising and falling. His hands trembled slightly from exertion, but his grip on the katana didn't waver.

Kai looked down at his arm where a thin crimson line had appeared.

The world was silent.

Then—

Kai smirked.

Not a mocking one. Not condescending.

A real smirk.

He rubbed his arm, tilting his head slightly. "Hah. You really don't know when to quit, do you?"

Nate straightened. "Not until I win."

Kai let out a breath of laughter, shaking his head.

For the first time, he looked at Nate—not as a kid.

Not as a student.

But as a warrior.

---

The spar was over.

Nate's body screamed for rest, but his mind was clearer than ever.

Kai turned away, rolling his shoulder as if testing the light wound. "Keep training like this… and you might actually be dangerous someday."

Nate didn't respond. He didn't need to.

Because he already knew—

He was getting there.

Kai paused before vanishing into the night. "Tomorrow, I'll show you something new."

Then he was gone.

Nate let out a slow breath, lowering his katana.

For the first time since arriving at this camp, he didn't feel like an outsider.

He didn't feel like a weakling chasing something impossible.

He felt—

Like he belonged.

He turned toward the distant firelight, the path ahead of him clearer than ever.

He still had a long way to go.

But now—

He knew he could get there.