Chapter 4: The weight of secrets
The gym was empty, save for the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the rhythmic squeak of Ain's sneakers against the worn floor. He stood before the punching bag, his fists wrapped tightly, his mind racing with questions. He hadn't expected to land here—back in a place that felt so... mundane.
Why a gym? Ain thought, glaring at the bag. His memories of the void, the feminine voice, and the promise of power felt almost surreal now, like a fever dream. But the faint buzz of energy in his veins reminded him that it was all too real.
He threw a jab, testing his form. The bag swayed lightly, but the motion felt off. The power he'd hoped for didn't materialize. Is this it? 0.00000000000000001%, huh? Real generous.
A door creaked open behind him.
"Well, well, if it isn't Ain the punching bag," came the all-too-familiar voice of Jack.
Ain stiffened, his fists clenching tighter. He didn't turn around.
Jack sauntered in, his smirk as insufferable as ever. He was dressed in his usual gym gear, but something about him felt... sharper, more commanding. His presence was like a storm cloud, oppressive and heavy.
"Still pretending you've got what it takes to fight back, huh?" Jack said, circling Ain like a predator. He stopped, leaning casually against the nearest piece of equipment. "Go on. Hit it again. Show me what you've got."
Ain glanced at him briefly, then back at the bag. He doesn't remember anything, Ain thought, his mind racing. The void, the feminine voice, the powers—it's like it never happened for him.
But as Ain prepared to throw another punch, Jack's voice cut through the air like a whip.
"You really think I don't notice?" Jack said, his tone sharp.
Ain froze, the punch dying mid-air. His heart raced. Did he just—?
"You dare to think of fighting back, don't you?" Jack continued, his smirk widening. "I can see it in your face."
Ain's stomach churned. He didn't know whether to feel relieved or terrified. Jack wasn't reacting to his thoughts—at least, not directly.
Yet something gnawed at Ain's mind. The voice in the void had mentioned Jack's Mind Reader system. It was subtle, but Ain felt it, like a faint tugging at the edges of his thoughts. Jack wasn't listening to everything, but it was as if he could pluck out certain ideas, specific emotions, without fully understanding their source.
"Go on," Jack prodded, his voice mockingly sweet. "You're thinking about it right now, aren't you? Punching me? Hitting back? Come on, Ain. Do it."
Ain gritted his teeth, his fists trembling. I can't let him see. I can't let him know.
But Jack only laughed, stepping closer. "Oh, what's the matter? Scared? You should be. You'll never win, Ain. Not against me."
Something inside Ain snapped. He turned, his gaze meeting Jack's, and for the first time, he didn't look away.
"You talk a lot for someone who spends so much time pretending to be untouchable," Ain said, his voice low but steady.
Jack raised an eyebrow, momentarily thrown off by the defiance in Ain's tone. Then he smirked, stepping even closer until they were nearly nose-to-nose.
"Careful, Ain," Jack whispered, his voice dripping with menace. "You're treading dangerous ground."
But Ain didn't flinch. Instead, he took a step back and turned to the punching bag. He drew in a deep breath, focusing on the weight of his body, the faint hum of his abilities. He couldn't rely on his powers—not yet. But he could rely on himself.
He threw a punch. Harder this time. The bag swung violently, the sound echoing through the empty gym. Jack watched, his expression unreadable.
"You've got a long way to go," Jack said after a moment, his voice quieter. Then, as if on cue, his usual smirk returned. "But hey, keep dreaming. It's funnier that way."
With that, Jack turned and walked away, leaving Ain alone once again.
---
As the door closed behind Jack, Ain let out a shaky breath. The encounter had rattled him, but it had also lit a fire inside him. He wasn't going to let Jack break him—not again.
He closed his eyes, focusing inward, searching for the faint glimmers of his power. The boxing system. Time's Embrace. They were there, buried deep, waiting to be unlocked. He just needed to figure out how.
And then, faint and mocking, the feminine voice echoed in his mind.
"Careful, Ain. Secrets have a way of unraveling when you least expect them. And Jack? Oh, he's more dangerous than you think."
Ain's eyes snapped open, his breath hitching.
She's still watching. She's always watching.
But that didn't scare him anymore. If anything, it only strengthened his resolve. He wasn't going to let Jack—or her—control his fate. Not this time.
With renewed determination, Ain faced the punching bag again. He wasn't ready to fight back yet, but when the time came, he'd make sure Jack regretted ever underestimating him.
For now, though, he'd keep his secret close.
Because secrets? Secrets were power.