Jax's punch wasn't particularly powerful—his A.I. had carefully calibrated its strength to ensure Damon wouldn't sustain serious injuries.
Still, the unexpected hit threw Damon off balance, making his legs tangle as he collapsed onto the ground.
The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. Swallowing it down, he accepted Jax's offered hand and pulled himself up.
"Do you need a medic, Damon? Or are you ready to continue?" Jax asked with a smile.
Damon cracked his neck, massaged his jaw, and shook his head.
"I'm good. Let's keep going."
Without waiting this time, he took the initiative—launching a low kick to Jax's thigh.
As the fight progressed, Damon realized something frustrating—while his body possessed the necessary skills, his fighting instincts were incredibly weak.
More often than not, his body felt slower or weaker than what his muscle memory seemed to expect from itself.
It became glaringly obvious when, after two consecutive attacks, Jax countered—and Damon completely failed to block.
His hand came up too late, just as Jax's fist slammed into his jaw again.
And when the sparring intensified, Damon fell for feints and simple traps far too easily.
This wasn't something techniques or training simulations could fix. Instinct had to be earned—built through real combat experience.
A system might be able to sharpen his reflexes, but it couldn't teach his instincts how to predict an opponent's next move.
Not without memories his instincts could rely on.
Despite his shortcomings, Damon's intelligence and willpower stats allowed him to adapt quickly.
After an hour of constant sparring—with breaks in between—he gradually improved.
He exchanged up to 15 strikes with Jax before losing the exchange.
Everything was progressing smoothly. Damon even felt genuinely satisfied with his progress….
…. Until Jax suddenly froze mid-punch.
His entire body locked in place like a statue, fist inches from Damon's face.
His eyes flickered phosphorescent green, glowing like twin neon lights embedded in his sockets.
Damon called out to him—no response.
He stepped back cautiously.
+ "Think it's a bug? A glitch? Maybe his system crashed?"
++ "Not possible," Asharaa responded instantly.
++ "If his system crashed, it would have rebooted itself in an instant. You wouldn't even notice.
And his eyes—that color shift isn't normal. I think he's been hacked…"
Both Damon and Asharaa watched intently, waiting for any further anomalies.
Then, as suddenly as it had happened, Jax returned to normal.
He blinked, then spoke in an eerily calm voice:
"Apologies, Damon. But before we continue, I need to assess your worth."
"So, I'll have to be much… stricter this time."
Before Damon could even react…
… Jax attacked.
Jax closed the two-meter gap in an instant, driving a powerful punch straight at Damon's diaphragm.
Damon, still shaken by Jax's cryptic words, reacted a fraction of a second too late. Instead of blocking, he instinctively launched a counterattack, kicking at Jax's forearm.
But something was wrong. Jax was no longer holding back.
The result? Damon was sent flying left, while Jax merely stumbled back a step.
Damon hit the ground hard, sliding nearly a meter across the dojo floor. If it weren't for the semi-soft training mats, the impact might have seriously injured him.
++ "I told you—he's been hacked. Someone's controlling him remotely! You won't beat him like this. Use your skills—Herculean Strength or Hermes' Stride! Hurry!"
Before Damon could even respond to Asharaa, Jax attacked again.
He had no time to think—he just forced his body to remember the sensation of activating Herculean Strength from when he first acquired it.
It only took a fraction of a second to activate—but it was still too late.
Jax's fist collided with Damon's chest just as the ability kicked in.
The moment Herculean Strength activated; Damon felt like molten metal was surging through his veins.
His muscles expanded slightly, and an overwhelming sense of limitless energy flooded his body.
Thanks to that, instead of being thrown like a ragdoll, he only stumbled back three steps, absorbing the blow with a dull, pulsing pain in his chest.
The rush of power, mixed with the throbbing ache in his ribs, made him roar instinctively—a battle cry from deep within.
He charged at Jax, aiming a straight punch at his face.
Jax tilted his head back, dodging, and immediately prepared a counter—a kick to Damon's side.
But Damon, drunk on raw energy, swung his leg instead.
A full-power kick crashed into Jax's diaphragm—or at least where a human diaphragm would be.
Jax was knocked off his feet, rolling backward before springing up onto his legs again.
Then—he laughed.
"Hahaha… Looks like you've got some fight in you…"
"Let's make this even more fun, shall we?"
Without warning, Jax sprinted toward the weapons rack on the left wall—the one holding real weapons, not training ones.
He grabbed a single-edged spear.
Damon's eyes widened.
"Oh, hell no—"
Without hesitation, he bolted for the wall as well, grabbing the first sword within reach—a double-edged, one-handed blade.
He could immediately tell—it wasn't suited for 'Cypress Dance'.
But there was no time to search for a Chinese saber or, even better, a Tang Dao.
Jax lunged first—thrusting his spear straight for Damon's chest.
Damon, now wielding the weapon his body had been craving since the fight began, moved instinctively.
He sidestepped right—just enough—while keeping his sword vertically aligned.
With a smooth motion, he redirected the spear's path to the side, guiding it away.
Then, in one fluid movement, he slid his blade along the spear's shaft and lunged forward.
The tip of the spear still grazed his arm, cutting a shallow wound—but it was far better than a hole, through his chest.
Closing the half-meter gap, Damon switched his sword to his right hand and executed a horizontal slash, aiming to carve a deep wound into Jax's right side.
The expertly timed attack caught Jax—or whoever was controlling him—completely off guard. But at the very last moment, Jax managed a half-successful backward leap.
The result?
A five-centimeter-deep gash tore through Jax's side.
From the wound, a silver liquid began seeping out, slowly staining his tracksuit before dripping onto the floor.
Jax glanced down at the injury, then stared at Damon with surprise.
"This doesn't make sense. Are you sure your compatibility level isn't higher than 37%?
When the hell did you sync with the technique this fast?
Since when does the military just hand out advanced swordsmanship for free?
…Or are you one of those natural weapon prodigies?"
He clicked his tongue in frustration.
"Damn it. Not enough time to test you further."
Damon's gaze flickered to his bleeding arm. The wound was deeper than he had thought.
Then, all at once—dizziness hit him hard.
> [User's Ka reserves are critically low. 'Herculean Strength' has been forcibly deactivated.]
The moment his skill deactivated, the dizziness began to fade—but with it, the pain in his arm exploded into full force. It screamed through his nerves, demanding his attention.
But with his enemy still standing in front of him—unarmed but not harmless—Damon refused to lower his guard.
Clenching his teeth against the pain, he took a steadying breath and asked,
"Who are you? Why are you trying to kill me?"
At the sound of Damon's voice, Jax—or rather, the person controlling him—stopped muttering to himself and let out a laugh.
"Kill you? Now, why would I want to do that?
I already apologized, didn't I? I told you—this was just a test."
He exhaled sharply, almost in amusement.
"I had other plans for you, Damon Grey, but you've surprised me.
Looks like you can be more than just a spy for us…"
Jax took a step back, tilting his head slightly.
"Expect my next call."
Then he added—
"Oh, and one more thing. If you ever decide to start singing like a little bird about what happened today…
I promise—I'll be sure to send my regards to your family."