Chapter 22: Slow, But Steady

Raden peeled his eyes open, his vision blurry for a moment. He turned to the left, where the sun was just beginning to rise, casting a warm and bright glow across the room. Then, he turned to the right and—


"ARGH!!"


A gruesome ghost face stared back at him from Kimmy's monitor screen, her expression twisted into something horrific. As Raden recoiled, Kimmy immediately switched the image to a short clip of a man laughing hysterically. Raden clutched his chest and let out a long, shaky breath.


"You nearly gave me a heart attack..."


Kimmy floated over to a table not far from Raden's bed, grabbing a stack of toast and a glass of milk sitting on a plate. She handed the bread to Raden, a bright, cheerful smiley emoji now beaming from her monitor face.


Raden took the toast with a smile. "Thanks, Kimmy."


He devoured the bread with such gusto that he nearly choked when he was halfway through. Kimmy immediately shoved the glass of milk she was holding toward him. Raden downed it in seconds, finally feeling his throat clear up.


Kimmy's monitor flashed with text: 'Is there anything else I can do for you?'


Raden shook his head. "No. Thanks for breakfast."


The text on Kimmy's screen changed: 'Alright. If you are still hungry, go to the kitchen. I have prepared some food there.'


She flashed an 'OK' sign with her mechanical fingers and floated out of the room, leaving Raden alone.


Raden stretched, his jaw cracking in a wide yawn. He climbed out of bed and tidied up the messy blanket. Once done, he stood by the window, feeling a sense of calm wash over him. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. For a few seconds, he just took in the view of Spectre City, inhaling the fresh air that drifted through the ventilation. He held the breath for a moment, then exhaled slowly.


He turned around, surveying his clean, organized room.


"Oni, what's on the agenda for today?" he asked.


Oni didn't answer. Raden frowned, a sudden wave of confusion hitting him.


"Oni, you still there?"


Again, silence. Raden shook it off, his face brightening again as he pushed the worry aside. He figured Oni probably just wasn't in the mood to talk.


Raden walked out of his room. The moment he stepped into the hallway, he looked left and right, not a soul in sight. The building felt deserted. He headed right, making his way to the workspace. When the automatic doors slid open, he scanned the interior. The office was silent, empty, and dimly lit.


"Where did everyone go?" he muttered, leaving the room. He walked down the corridor, glancing around at the emptiness surrounding him.


He stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the second floor. As the doors opened, he heard it, sharp exhales and the heavy, rhythmic thud of impact echoing through the hall. Raden followed the sound, which led him straight to the fitness room. He fished a card out of his pocket and swiped it against the door handle.


The door clicked open. Inside, Michael was wailing on a punching bag, throwing a flurry of rapid dodges and parries between strikes. With one final roar, he slammed his fist into the bag, the impact booming through the room. He stopped, dropping his hands and shaking them out to loosen the muscles. He narrowed his eyes as he spotted Raden.


"Raden?"


Raden walked over. Michael's face was drenched in sweat, his chest heaving. He peeled off his bag gloves and grabbed a water bottle from the lat pulldown bench, taking a slow sip.


Raden watched in awe. "Wow, that was... incredible. Can I borrow those?" He pointed at the gloves.


"Whoa, easy there. Don't rush it. You want to try? Have you eaten?" Michael asked, pulling the gloves back just as Raden reached for them.


Raden scratched his head. "Um... I had toast and milk. That's enough, right?"


Michael let out a short laugh and patted Raden on the shoulder. "Not even close. If you want to do heavy exercise, you need a full tank. And... get yourself a bottle of water. Maybe two, unless you want to pass out from thirst halfway through."


"Is that so? Alright. But, will you teach me those moves later?" Raden asked.


Michael nodded. "Yeah. Come back when your stomach is full."


Raden sprinted out of the fitness room with renewed energy.


"Hey, slow down! You're going to hit a wall!" Michael shouted.


"Okay!" Raden yelled back from down the hall.


---


Down in the kitchen, a feast was waiting. The dining table was lined with warm dishes, neatly arranged. Raden sat down, grabbing a piece of grilled chicken from a plate. He blew on it patiently before taking a bite, savoring the flavor.


His eyes scanned the rest of the spread. He was ready to devour everything in sight.


Twenty minutes later, Raden downed a glass of water and let out a satisfied burp. He sat there for a while, picking a stray bit of meat from his teeth, waiting for his digestion to settle. Once he felt ready, he headed back to the elevator and up to the fitness room.


When he walked in, Michael was sitting on a bench, scrolling through his phone. Raden approached and tapped him on the shoulder. Michael looked up, seeing the enthusiasm written all over Raden's face.


"Oh, stomach full now?" Michael asked with a smirk.


"Yeah, I ate a lot. Can we start?"


Michael stood up, tucking his phone into a small pocket. He reached into a bag and tossed two rolls of hand wraps at Raden.


"Put these on first," Michael said.


Raden caught them and began wrapping his hands. "How long have you been working out? You're already soaked in sweat."


"Started at four in the morning," Michael replied casually, handing Raden a pair of black bag gloves. "Put these on after you finish your dynamic stretching. You know how to do that, right?"


"Yeah, I got it."


Raden spent a few minutes going through the stretches Michael instructed. Once he was loose, he wiggled his fingers and slid his hands into the gloves.


Michael guided him to the heavy bag, adjusting his stance until he was properly aligned. Raden stared at the bag, his focus sharpening.


"Listen. When I say 'Jab', you hit the bag with your hand. If I say it again, hit it with the other hand. Got it?" Michael said, locking eyes with him.


Raden nodded firmly. "Understood."


"Good."


Raden took a deep breath, his gaze intense. He raised both fists, guarding his face, ready to strike. Michael paced around him for a few seconds, watching his form.


"Jab!"


Raden smashed his right fist into the bag so hard it shuddered violently.


"Relax. Don't be tense, and don't use emotion. You need to stay stable and focused. Slow, but sure. Pretend the bag is your worst enemy. Stay loose and launch the attack at the right moment," Michael said, circling him.


"Alright, noted," Raden replied, refocusing on the target.


Michael cleared his throat.


"Jab!"


Raden struck with his left hand. It wasn't as powerful, but he immediately pulled back, ready to fire his right.


"Jab!"


Raden punched with his right, snapping his hand back to his body instantly.


Michael clapped his hands lightly. "Excellent. You learn fast. Now, apart from hitting, you need to learn how not to get hit."


Raden lowered his guard, tilting his head in confusion. "Not get hit? How?"


Michael smiled. "Like this." He suddenly twisted his body, moving rapidly to the right and left.


"Wow, that's fast. But... do I have to be that fast?" Raden asked.


"Give it a try," Michael replied.


Raden tried to mimic the movement, but he looked stiff and awkward.


Michael chuckled. "That's a good start. But watch closely." He stood up straight. "You need to rotate your head in a half-circle while moving in the direction you want to go—left or right. While moving your head, you drag your feet slightly." Michael demonstrated the motion in slow motion.


Raden tried again. This time, the dodge was quick. It felt natural, almost exactly like Michael's.


"That's pretty good, though not perfect yet. Now, combine it with a jab," Michael said.


Raden rolled his head in a half-circle, dragging his foot to the right, and then fired a sharp punch into the bag in the same direction.


"Like... that... right?" Raden panted, his breath coming in short bursts.


"Yes. Catch your breath. Drink some water if your throat is dry. Relax, don't force yourself. Now, repeat that, or try moving your body and arms with as much creative variation as you can."


From the entrance, Mora walked in. Timmy was floating just above her shoulder, following her every step.


"Here's your order," Mora said, handing a plastic bag full of energy drinks to Michael.


"Thanks," Michael said, taking the bag.


Mora glanced at Raden, who was busy with the bag. "Wow, Toki, you into boxing now?"


Raden paused, turning to look at her. "Uh, hey, Mora. Hehe, I guess so."


"That's good, keep it up. If you get thirsty and want something fresh, ask Michael," she said.


"Alright, thanks for the offer." Raden went back to his training.


Mora and Michael stepped far enough away that Raden couldn't hear them. Their expressions instantly darkened, filled with hesitation.


"What do you think happened to Mom and Dad?" Mora asked quietly.


Michael sighed.


"I don't know..."