The next morning, Lucian was standing in front of an MMA gym.

This was the solution he had come up with. Since he had too much power and next to no control, AI recommended a simple solution.

Martial Arts.

It said something about how Martial Arts teaches you how to govern kinetic energy and whatnot.

Honestly, Lucian didn’t even read the entire thing since it was too long and AI thought he was writing a fantasy book, not that he blamed it. A week-old him wouldn’t believe the current him either.

Anyways, what Lucian did agree on with the AI was that Martial Arts sounded like a great solution, so here he was.

Hale’s Combat House.

Lucian stared at the place for a moment.

Then he walked in and the smell hit him.

Sweat, leather, rubber mats, old blood, cheap disinfectant, the smell burned his nose, but maybe it was because he was getting better at controlling himself, he didn’t scrunch his nose, he simply walked in.

After the smell, it was the sound.

Heavy bags being hit, gloves striking pads, feet sliding over mats, men breathing hard, a trainer shouting numbers, Lucian heard it all and just from the sounds alone, he could tell where most things were.

It was kind of cool but also quite creepy.

Not that Lucian had the luxury to care, he needed every advantage he could get. He may be able to defeat normal students like Ryan with his strength, that Incubus, however, was entirely different.

Lucian clenched his fists as he thought of that, for now however, he shook his head and walked to the front desk.

A bored-looking young man glanced up from his phone.

"Here for a trial class?"

"Yes."

"Experience?"

"Gym."

The young man waited.

Lucian waited too.

And the young man blinked as the realization kicked in.

"That’s it?"

"That’s it."

Lucian nodded.

"Any boxing? Wrestling? Karate? Jiu-jitsu?"

"No."

"Street fights?"

Lucian paused as a few broken faces flashed in his mind.

"Not proper ones."

The young man stared at him for a second, then shrugged like it wasn’t his mess to deal with.

"Coach Hale handles beginners in the morning. Sign here."

Lucian signed the form.

Once he was done, the young man pointed toward the mats.

"Shoes off there.

Coach is the angry bald guy over there."

Lucian looked over.

It was not hard to find him.

A man in his late forties with a shaved head, a thick neck, wide shoulders, and a scar over his left eyebrow. His nose looked like it had been broken more than once and fixed by someone who had no love for symmetry.

He was watching two men spar with a look of deep disappointment.

"No, no, no!"

He facepalmed.

"You are not dancing with him, Kevin! You are trying to hit him! Stop hopping around like the floor owes you money!"

One of the men lowered his gloves.

"Coach, I was trying to use footwork."

"I’ll make your foot stop working if you don’t listen to me right now. You understand me?"

Coach Hale glared at him angrily, some of the people nearby laughed.

Lucian smiled as well, then he walked closer. The Coach turned towards him, his eyes scanned him up and down and his mouth twitched.

"Let me guess."

Marcus folded his arms.

"Early twenties, no fighting experience, one of the regulars at the gym?"

"Yes."

Lucian nodded, slightly impressed and the Coach facepalmed again.

"Another one of those."

He groaned.

"Trust me, I am not one of those."

Lucian answered, his violet eyes shining dangerously.

Maybe it was the demon blood inside him, but for some reason, he did not like being generalized like that.

"Is that so...?"

Marcus raised an eyebrow.

"Yes."

Lucian nodded again.

"Alright, shadow prince, what’s your name?"

"Lucian Cross."

"Marcus Hale. Coach is fine. I don’t like being called sir. Makes me feel old, and I already have mirrors for that."

Lucian nodded.

Marcus pointed to the mats.

"Beginner class starts in ten minutes. I’ll test you first, see how stiff you are."

"I am not flexible."

Lucian answered honestly.

He had spent most of his time in the gym focusing on his strength, flexibility had never been his strong suit, not that he had a ’strong suit’ to begin with.

"That was not the part I was worried about."

Marcus shrugged as he picked up a pair of gloves and threw them at him.

"Put those on."

Lucian did.

The gloves felt... strangely limiting around his hands.

Marcus led him to a heavy bag hanging from the ceiling.

It was large, black, and worn from years of abuse, the leather had faded in some places, tape covered one side, the chain above it looked thick and strong.

"Hit this."

Marcus slapped the bag.

Lucian looked at it and—

"How hard?"

Marcus stared at him, somewhat surprised by the question.

"It’s a heavy bag, kid. It’s not your grandmother.

Hit it as hard as you can."

Lucian nodded, then he took a deep breath, raised his fists and took a stance.

It was not good, but it was not horrible either, years of gym training had at least given him some sense of balance and body awareness.

He pulled his fist back slightly and Marcus frowned impatiently.

"This isn’t a movie. What are you waiting for? A boom—"

BANG

Before he could complete his words, Lucian punched, the heavy bag shot backward like it was hit by a car, the chain above it snapped in an instant and the bag flew off its hook, crashing into the mat.

The entire gym went silent.

Someone’s jump rope stopped mid-swing, a man drinking water from a water bottle lowered it, the receptionist peeked in from the front desk.

Lucian looked at the fallen bag, then he looked at his gloved fist, then he looked at Marcus.

"I am not paying for that.

You were the one who said to hit it as hard as I can."