Ren had only come to The Rune Knight HQ but had managed to find a room just for himself to stay in. It was fairly lucky he thought. It was relatively clean and had a comfy bed. To think th Ren was still in bed having a dream, well nightmare. In it he was before his family, on all fours being critiqued about how much of a useless son he was. Even after being given a second chance. Squandering all the progress he had made, the magic he had learned and wasted the time of everyone he had ever met. Thankfully Ren woke up before anything too hurtful was said but annoyingly he had broken out into a cold sweat. Once he was awake he got up and went to the bathroom to get a towel, draping it over his neck.

Ren stooped to pick up a towel, wiping it across his brow before releasing his grip on it and allowed it to flop back down onto his shoulder. He gritted his teeth before padding the width of the room, trying to rile himself up again. Beads of perspiration glistened on his bare chest, until of course he ran the towel across them.

He’d been training relentlessly since he’d been permitted to join the Rune Knight’s, and though he was presently a bottom feeder in terms of rank, soon he’d make his move, and shoot through the ranks, until he was at a point he was happy with. There was no telling what rank that would be though, but if it meant becoming the head of Rune Knight, then so be it, he wasn’t going to be deterred.

To start his training, he was trying to improve his physical form, make himself stronger, which would feed his magic, at least on a subconscious level. Moreover, it would compensate for his somewhat weak magic at this point in time. His father was very physically strong which gave Ren this idea. Not to mention with all the buffing magic he was capable of he wanted to add as much to both his magical and physical power as he could to become a truly dangerous opponent.
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Books lay open on the bench at the corner, each one displaying a number of symbols, runic markings and sections of arcane script. Tattoos that he would later incorporate around the central design. The large intricate spell circle in the centre of his back. Possessing a writable soul, he had not innate magic ability, save for that he gave himself, tattooing spell circles and markings onto his body would not only grant him immense magical strength, but allow him to bend it to his will and make it stronger, more so than it was meant to be. But now, back to punching solid objects. Ren only drew these on himself with non-permanent ink. In his quest to get stronger he would try anything.

Throwing the towel aside so that it landed in a neat heap by his books, Ren lined up a punch, his hand encased in a pure magical wind that seemed to glimmer in white energy. Centring his body and placing his left foot forward, extending his left fist with it, and keeping his right one back, like a coiled spring. With an explosive roar, he launched his right fist forward, towards the punching bag. It made contact with a bang, and the fist was quickly drawn back, and then hurled forwards again with equal force.

The strain slowly became visible on his face, his jaw clenched and his eyes burned with something beyond rage and determination. The bag rocked on the chains of steel holding it to the ceiling as the onslaught continued. Minutes passed, and the action was still occurring, over and over again, the same right fisted jab, the same weight put behind it, and the same outcome. Each time he drew his arm back though, the knuckles grew redder, more raw. The skin was borderline breaking on the knuckles. Another punch and blood appeared on the bag. He paused, and looked down at his hand. There were bandages in his kit bag, but taping up could wait. He altered his stance, so that it was inverted, this time right foot and fist put forward, his left arm coiled like a spring. Even with his hands being encased in magic and his whole body being buffed too he still felt the physical and mental exhaustion from exuding both his muscle strength and magical strength
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How long had he done this for already? Hours? Days? Probably the former. He had set his goal a while back along with his parents, and now it was within reach, by comparison at least. It had been fifteen years since trying to figure out what he wanted to be when he grew older, fifteen years of working with his parents in various aspects of life trying to help lead him the the correct direction. They had loved and cared for him, and he had loved and cared them. He’d decided a long time ago that he would become a powerful mage, more powerful than anyone else, strong enough to protect the people he cared about, strong enough to be remembered. His punching faltered. How many was that now? Was there anyone. He spent most of his time alone, separated from society. No friends, no reason to have any. He didn’t count his many brothers and sisters since they everyone had to be friendly towards one another, for the most part anyway. At least until he was strong enough to keep people thinking of him and to protect people. That was his job now after all; protecting people. As a knight in training there wasn’t much expected of him, though given time there’d be a lot more responsibility, though there would be privileges to match, then he could get closure. Two reasons to climb the proverbial ladder, and the way before him was unguarded, provided he was strong enough. He mentally paused. That wasn’t what unguarded entailed, perhaps he needed a break.

Sighing he steadied the bag and walked over to his things, pulling some tape out of a side pocket and beginning to wind it around his bleeding knuckles. He could hear some of the other magical knights training in the adjoining rooms, he’d gone for a small one so that he could be alone, there was no guarantee that anyone else could maintain his pace or endurance. Willpower overwhelmed fatigue. He looped the tape around his right hand a third time. Once he was satisfied it was a secure fit, he lifted it up and bit through the tape, punching his left palm once he was finished. The pain was dulled but still there, a reminder that he wasn’t at his peak yet. He’d only just started. Step one was to break the damn punching bag, then he’d have to figure out how best to carry on. His magic strength would need working on, but he had to do most of the legroom on the spells first. At least starting with his physical strength he knew what he was doing. Hitting things and being hit repeatedly himself, which seemed the best way forwards. At least from a growth perspective, not many people enjoyed being punched after all. He didn’t think too much into it. There were plenty of dark places that train of thought could likely go.
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He shook off the thoughts and focussed on taping up his other hand. The skin wasn’t broken yet, so he only went around once, if the skin broke, then when it healed it would be stronger, so he had to make sure he toughened the skin enough to survive being slammed repeatedly into rock, bone or metal. There was an idea at the back of his mind that if he could punch through a spell unaided by magic, then he’d have a much easier time of fighting, as he could then use his mana reserves to really throw out some devastating volleys. Conservation in order to put the power where it really counted. Ren smirked a little, as he imagined the look on a evil doers or terrorist’s face, as his defences crumbled under a right hook filled with pure magical wind. He could bypass magic entirely until he knew he had it strong enough to really do some damage. But he wouldn’t be leaving it that long until it happened. What was the list now? Hit, get hit, magically hit things, get hit by magical things. He sighed, there was a lot he needed to work on, and it would be no easy feat.

The Mage got up and rolled his shoulders, flicking his hair out of his eye. No-one at the Rune Knight HQ had passed comment on Ren’ appearance to him yet, at least to his face, or the fact that he was barely noble, though they may have put all that for gossip behind his back, when he was not around or when they needed a good laugh. There were several of the higher ranking knights from other guilds with similar backgrounds to Ren, perhaps they had just assumed his was the same, although Ren doubted that very much. It was nice to blend in for a change, even if he was just telling himself that. Lining up for a continuation of the last batch of training, preparing his left fist again. Then the rhythmic bang of his hand striking the bag began again. Every so often another knight shouting the name of a spell or yelling would punctuate, helping him to stay focussed and push through the metaphorical ‘wall’ he had no intention of slowing down, even though his body was already telling him to take a break. He’d been doing these sort of exercises solidly for the last few days, breaking only to eat, sleep or work on his spells. With the occasional errand thrown in for good measure. He could almost feel the skin on his knuckles split as he pushed on. He stifled a wince of pain and carried on, his left wasn’t as strong as his right, and though he had no intention to fully balance, it made sense to at least get them both to a similar level. Otherwise he’d be putting all his eggs in one basket, one wrong move, one sloppy punch, or a well-placed attack from his opponent, and then he’d be on the back foot, and possibly an arm down.
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There was blood starting to appear on the tape now, meaning he either needed to wrap it up more or stop punching with that hand. His right was still stinging too so perhaps he needed to improve his strength by other means. He decided to go for an alternative exercise, he wasn’t a one trick pony after all. Or any form of one trick animal for that matter. He’d gathered a few items for use as exercise equipment, most of it was stored in his quarters, stuffed under his bed. Though it was true the Rune Knight training facility was more than well equipped, he didn’t want to risk damaging anything that wasn’t his with the next exercise. Besides very few tried physical activities which would only make things seem worse if he broke their only equipment. Besides, Ren definitely did not want to go up against some of the other higher tiered Knights that usually occupied the place.

Ren peered off the edge of one of the towers. He’d managed to climb through an open window and was now on the roof. No harness, no safety measures. This was not one of his more well thought out plans. He looked across the horizon, his expression bearing little in the way of anticipation. The climb hadn’t been too easy, as he’d not only been carrying his own weight, but several, in the form of metal disks, which were now tied together at the end of a long rope. This was going to be slightly tricky. He lifted the weights by the rope and shifted them to the edge of the drop. He checked that there weren’t any people below, before pushing them off the edge. The coiled rope beside him began to unravel as the disks plummeted towards the ground, he’d measured out the rope a few days previously, and there was more than enough for them to reach the bottom without him losing the other end. He may have been a little optimistic with the weight though. The thud was audible even at this height. Now he just had to pull them back up.
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The strain was incredible, it felt as though his eyes were going to pop out of their sockets. Possibly even his innards which were feeling as if they were being pushed out now that he thought about it. The lapse in concentration caused the rope to slide through his hands a little, and he lowered his weight to keep himself from being tugged off the edge. Slowly, he regained the lost height, putting hand in front of hand and slowly pulling. The concept was simpler than the execution. His muscles were burning, and his teeth were gritted as he strained that little bit harder, yanking the weights up a little over halfway up the tower. He visualised the goal, getting the weights up to the top, over and over again as he pulled. The sounds of chattering echoed from below, it took him a moment before he realised that he had an audience. He couldn’t let that distract him, he had to keep going. If anything the fact that he was being watched lit a fire beneath him and his pulling increased in speed. It took him a few moments before he realised that he was growling, like an angered wolf, his face was also contorted into a snarl. He could feel the weight intensifying beneath him, it must have been getting closer, gravity was pulling harder, or was it the same amount, and it was just his muscles being close to giving up. They wouldn’t though, as at the end of the day, they were controlled by his brain, an organ that had no intention of giving in. No rest, no respite, no forgiveness. Nothing worth having was ever easy.

“The payoff had better be worth it” Ren snarled through a barricade of his own teeth. The clank of the disks hitting the walls could be heard now, so close.

He dropped down to his knees once he had finished, his arms were numb, and heavy. How he was going to get down was anyone’s guess. Including his. He was still having trouble creating any transport construct with his wind magic.
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Ren flopped down face first into his bunk. Another day of training and once again everything hurt. He’d managed to get off of the roof without anyone identifying him with the help of his wind magic, so he’d likely get away with doing it, as they’d never find out it was him, hopefully. He rolled over onto his back, adjusting his hair which had grown so long it was covering his eyes nearly. Granted he was alone, and there was no-one to even see his messy hair covering his eyes. He was feeling slightly better now that he had a chance to rest, even if it was just a few minutes. He was done for the day now, there was no mistaking that. He hadn’t eaten yet, and now he was too tired to get up, there was still an amount he wanted to get done, he had really underestimated that last exercise. He’d have to try that again at another point, once his muscles had a chance to recover, chances were he would fare a lot better. That was how muscles worked after all.

His quarters were cluttered with stacks of books, each with a long and explanative title at the top of which was his diary. The other facet of his strengthening process, improving his magic. Over time he would refine his spells, and draw up more spell circles for incorporation into his tattoo arsenal as the ones he had written before were beginning to fade. Wind magic was an incredibly demanding school of sorcery, slight changes in mood and concentration could turn the whole place into a winter wonderland. Not that he was strong enough for that level of attack yet, he’d only got as far as creating basic things and causing damage to a small area of effect. Though once he began adding more tattoos to his body, the very nature of his magic would change, the strength of his spells and his control over them. Weather they actually worked at enhancing his magical prowess or simply acting as a placebo was to be seen. Though the majority of the spell use would come off of his own body his skill would lay in the modification of his writable soul, and how that would fuel his magic
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He had a few planned out already, which were already copied out onto large sheets of parchment and pinned to the walls. Luckily for Ren Wind magic wasn't all too rare and there was many spell ideas to be found. Intricate looping patterns with swirling runic script laid within it formed the base. Ren had been required to learn a variety of script languages in order to refine the tattoo designs. These were all strength boosters, and would branch out from the main circle on his back. Magnifying the impact damage of his damaging spells, meaning that even his weaker spells would still deal a significant amount of damage, even though the range and speed of the spells wouldn’t change, or so he hoped. He still had to try and figure out defensive modifiers, there were a few drafts drawn up, but nothing concrete yet. The crumpled sheets from previous attempts littered the floor. Many of them were too basic and cliche. He needed something to stand out in terms of style and usefulness. He’d forgotten the sheets that littered the floor were still there, something he’d fix when he woke up, rolling over though, he turned his back on his research and slowly allowed himself to drift off.

Ren flipped open another of the weighty tome and rifled through the pages, strength modifiers were what he was after. The book in question focussed on strength based spells, granted the spell book was focussed on modifying physical traits, but with alterations he could certainly adapt it to suit his own style of magic. He twirled the calligraphy brush around his right index finger, parchment waiting beneath. With his eye flitting about the page, his hand readied to start the first draft of a strengthening circle. Numerous details seemed to repeat themselves on the four circles across the double page spread; similar curves, a small inflection at each ninety degree interval. Smirking slightly, he put brush to paper. His hand moved with deft decisive strokes, which occasionally dragged out for more than a split second as he etched out a portion of the circle. Several near slashing motions later, and the basic framework was finished, meaning he had to change brush and work on the intricacies of the circle. This sort of job could take him days, even weeks depending on the amount he wanted to bolster his magical strength, he still hadn’t applied the first batch yet either, primarily because he hadn’t created the ink recipe yet, or found a someone he trusted with doing the job since he could only write so much on himself. Perhaps he’d roll up the designs and take them into the city to apply later, and of course observe a few ‘specialists’ at work to see if they could do the job. Ren still had no clue if these were even working but telling himself that they did seem to help with his training and indeed with his progress.
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His muscles were still aching from his work the previous day, so he’d decided to focus on strengthening spells as opposed to his body, though depending on how he felt later he was tempted to go for a second stint, maybe in the sparring cages. Finding a suitable ‘dance partner’ was always a chore though, as most of the pages had more in the way of ego than they did in skill, as a lot of members in Rune Knight did. As far as Ren could see most were all talk, primarily about their heritage come to think of it. So there would likely be at least half a dozen throwing around threats, who had jaws made from glass and a silver spoon in their mouths.

The runic spirals and arcane symbols slowly began to blend together, the concept was to perfect the shapes and arrange them so that they would make his body more mana efficient. Training using the magic could also improve its strength, though at this point in time, he just wanted to make sure his body was not only capable of surviving his own incredibly volatile magic so he didn’t hurt himself but make sure it would drop whoever he fired it at. Wind magic also had the innate ability to freeze almost anything aimed at the user, so improving his magical strength, would lend to his defensive capabilities. That was more of an afterthought though. Ideally, he wanted to allow his power to grow incognito, waiting until his magical arsenal had a wide range and notable punch before using it. Until then he could make do with fists and raw brutality. He put down his quill and sighed. There was a lot he had to do, and it was only now becoming apparent how tough it was going to be to achieve it all.
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A while back he’d also found a book containing a powerful combination of spells, that culminated in an exceedingly powerful attack. It wasn’t exclusive to his style of magic, but with other spell circles he found, he could easily alter it to suit his new style. It was strange that after such a long time, he had shunned his original form of magic, in lieu of a more powerful alternative.

He’d picked up his quill again and was scratching in some more runes when he heard the crash. There was a momentary pause as he wondered if it was him who had caused it. He cast a cursory glance over his shoulder, and did a quick sweep of the room. Nothing out of place. A bellowed curse-word. He put it out of his mind and continued to work. The page of the book he was reading was turned and he slowly took in all the major details of the next spell circle, and then delved deeper into its intricacies. Whatever the commotion was outside it could wait. There were more important things that needed seeing to. Slowly though the sounds grew louder and more frequent. Footsteps echoed into his room from outside. His ire rose, and soon so did he, pushing his chair back and getting to his feet. He stalked across the room and threw the door open. There were a number of other Magical Knights sprinting past him, all heading in the same direction. Most were the younger Knights, early to late teens much like himself. He too was one of the younger Knight after all, but he knew what he wanted to do and he wasn’t going to follow the crowd like them. Ren had no intention of hanging onto his meagre rank for much longer. He reached out and grabbed one of the young mages by the scruff of the neck. The kid halted as if he’d received an electric shock. The advantage of being the older mage, was that the younger ones were scared of him. The kid stared into Ren’s eyes with mild terror. Ren however looked into his, curious
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“What’s going on?” Ren asked, curiosity getting the better of his young adolescent mind. The young Knight gulped

“Fight… in the sparring cages… there’s a Higher ranked knight, he’s taken down every challenger… we were heading down to… watch.” Ren nodded and the boy, well he darted off. The Wind mage however remained still. He had some energy left in him to unleash on this so called “high knight”, provided of course this wouldn’t be another case of exaggeration, or ego boosting.

Another challenger’s face hit the mat with jarring force. The guy bounced a few times before eventually coming to a stop, by which time the brute was on him. Both arms were grabbed and a foot pressed between his shoulder blades before a blast of magic rendered him immobile. Ren watched with silent curiosity as the loser’s arms were yanked back, before being used to slingshot his head into the ground again. It was barbaric. How anyone could show such ferocity towards their allies, was beyond Ren. The bruiser’s name was Garret, at least from what Ren had gathered. He was a junior knight but boasted that he was as strong as an intermediate. Garret was built like a gorilla and with a face that resembled a cinder block. He lifted his arms into the air and whooped as the Knight he had been sparring with was dragged out of the ring, a streak of blood trailing from him. The ‘ring’ was pretty much just a circle of various ranking Knights, there seemed to be money changing hand too, some casual betting. The odds were probably not good on anyone who volunteered to have their head get kicked in both with magic and with his comically large feet.

“Who’s next?” Garret opened his arms and addressed the crowd. Silence. His casual, cocky expression took a more annoyed tinge “C’mon, I’m not done training, got to head on some jobs, and need a few practice dummies that’ll punch back, or are none of you willing to defend your heritage, those who have a respectable one anyway.” Ren felt a twinge of rage. The comment wasn’t even aimed at him directly, but the terminology and way the words were conveyed was poking his last nerve. The fight had taken out the first few.
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“You” the finger was jabbed towards Ren, the crowd parted slightly. Ren lifted an unimpressed eyebrow, his face seemingly bored.

“Me?” he confirmed sounding as bored as he looked

“Care to test your luck” whilst issuing the challenge his arms were bent, as if trying to show off his hulking Figure.

“Depends” Ren replied, folding his arms across his chest. Garret frowned

“On what exactly?” Garret questioned, raising an eyebrow of his own.

“How attached you are to your teeth.” Silence. Garret smirked

“Tough guy. Come on then, let’s see what you’re worth, maybe I’ll give ya another scar?” he gestured for Ren to step forwards with one hand while he covered his eye with the other, obviously making fun of Ren’s wound he had sustained when he was much younger. The Navy haired mage unbuttoned his shirt and handed it to one of the pages, grunting an instruction not to drop it. Beneath, Ren was wearing a Blue tank top, allowing his arms to become visible. They were similar to Garret’s in all respects but scale, though Ren was of a much smaller build. Not that he was small compared to the knight’s his age, but most of the Knights now that he looked in the room looked like a child when they stood next to Garret, he was a monster. Ren lifted his fists in a boxer’s style guard.

“Come on then” he snarled. Garret lifted one of his bare fists as if to punch. A metallic sheen spread from his knuckles and down the length of his arm.

“With pleasure.” Ren had noticed the sheen, as well as figuring out multiple things from Garret.

Although He’d allowed himself to be taken aback, that had been his first mistake, the second was lowering his block. The Iron-like fist slammed into Ren’s face and took him clean off his feet. He spun three times in the air before crashing down onto the ground. That was going to bruise. His head was swimming. The braggart was using magic, physical from the looks of things. No doubt a berserker class. Typical. Too bad he hadn’t seen enough of the previous fights to figure out that this wasn’t vanilla sparring. Garret was playing the crowd a little, Ren used the time to get to his feet. Both of his opponent’s arms were covered in the metallic sheen now. Going from what he’d already seen, Ren wagered that the guy’s feet were probably covered in the same layer. He needed to get his guard up before the next hit came in. But something in his brain wasn’t working correctly, wasn’t helping him lift his arms. The second hit got him beneath the chin, sending him into the air and crashing down once more. Two hits now and he felt like he’d just been hit by a Rhinox stampede. Hands grabbed him and hoisted him up onto his feet again.
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“Hit him back, I’ve got jewels riding on you!” Ren shook himself awake, in time to see his opponent charging towards him, midway through throwing a punch. He sidestepped, and the metal fist slammed into the enthusiastic gambler who’d pulled Ren to his feet. He senses returned, Ren picked his target and threw a hard right hook. The blow caught Garret in the side of the throat and he gasped for air, the second punch caught him across the jaw. The attack sent him spinning and Ren jumped into the air, planting both heels into his chest. They both hit the deck, though one in a much better state than the other. Ren was on his feet in an instant, and he waited for Garret to get up.

“No magic” he wheezed “you’re a brave one, or maybe just too cocky for your own good. Nah I bet you’re too stupid to even use magic!” Ren shook his head

“I can use magic actually, Don’t need it though, you’re not worth the energy.” He said lazily again, although somewhat slurred.

“I am your superior in rank and in heritage!” Garret spat, suddenly furious

“In title alone” Ren retorted, raising his guard “now either hit me or shut u…” the fist caught him in the gut. He was not experienced enough to taunt mid fight. When he could take a magically bolstered punch, then he would start teasing his foes.

On the ground again, and he could feel the vibrations of Garret’s footsteps, he had about two seconds before he was laid into. Ren rolled as the fist came down, causing it to slam into the ground instead. There was a loud crack as the floorboards broke. Garret was not playing games. Nor was Ren, and he was already on his feet. Garret looked up in time to get an elbow to the temple, sending him off balance. Ren steadied his opponent’s head with his left hand, before punching with his right. Garret flopped onto his back. With the break in the fight, Ren realised just how hard Garret was punching him. His breathing was slightly strained, and it hurt to tense the muscles in his chest. The adrenaline had worn off for the most part, so the pain was real. He wasn’t keeping an eye on Garret though. Money stopped changing hands, and the pages forming the ring all took a step back. Ren lifted an eyebrow and turned. Garret was on his feet again, though this time things were slightly different. He’d abandoned the non-magic approach and so was standing there, with a metallic sheen across every inch of visible skin, which also appeared to be steaming. There was a thin stream of blood flowing down from his nose. In an explosion of movement, the Iron juggernaut charged.
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The initial hit was like being hit with three cannonballs, as Garret jammed both shoulders and his head into three points on Ren’s chest, lifting him clean off his feet. Both of them hit the ground, but Ren came off worse as the hulking metal brute landed on top of him, crushing the air out of him. Garret straddled him and began raining down punches like a monsoon. They fell on head, body, arm, shoulder, gut. Ren tensed and lifted his guard, but already, about four had collided with his face. Garret was seething

“I still have my teeth.” he grunted “C’mon then, hit me.” But the Wind mage was too busy holding his guard, he needed to think. His own arms were being forced into his face by the weight of the punches. He could taste blood, and could feel it running down his face. This had already gone on longer than was healthy, and far longer than the previous bouts had.

“Garret stop!” A voice he didn’t recognise, young though, definitely a page “he’s had enough!” Ren bristled. He was not done yet. With a grunt, he wrapped an arm around one of Garrets as it came down to punch, and pinned it to his side, doing the same with the other as it came down after. The shock from the metal mage was time enough to plant a head-butt. Not the most sound of strategies, but it worked. The weight on his chest eased. Enough for him to slide free.

Then his knee slammed into Garret’s jaw, and he flopped backwards. He’d put himself off kilter and Ren had taken advantage of it. Ren shook his head slowly

“I think you need to take some time out” he managed “don’t push your luck.” Garret got to his feet, still fuming.

“I’m pushing my luck? I’m not the one who’s falling apart!” Ren smirked

“You’re using a large portion of your arsenal, to pummel one guy who’s not used a single spell. If I can give you this much trouble without magic…” he left the conclusion hanging. Silence.
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Garret shook his head,

“No, you’re done, and I’ll prove it.” He threw a punch. Ren lifted his hand and caught it. The ripple of force blasted from the contact point, knocking over the the many various ranking knights watching. Garret stood there, gobsmacked. Then the pain hit him. Ren released his still metal hand, and it became clear, that every one of Garret’s fingers had been broken, through his magic barrier of pure wind and light. Ren didn’t react. It was the force behind the punch that had done it, Ren had only used a small portion of his wind magic to make his most basic spell to shield his hand from the attack. Though he didn’t show it, the attack had still hurt him. He nodded in Garret’s direction

“I’m heading to the infirmary, I’d advise you to do the same.”

Ren flexed his fingers in front of his face. The wind release hadn’t been completely intended, well, he hadn’t intended to break anyone’s fingers at least, though he didn’t feel guilty about it in the slightest. Garret had crossed the line, it had been a sparring session and he’d used magic to the extent where injury was more than likely. Ren had been bandaged up, and a few healing spells applied to his face. He’d walked out of the session with a broken nose, fractured jaw and severe bruising on both arms. One had nearly broken. It was against all odds he’d even caught Garret’s fist. The explosion of force must have been an innate response to the danger he was putting himself in. Comforting to know that his magic would protect him when he needed it to. He’d wanted to blast him through the back wall, instead he got a shockwave, all it meant was that he’d need to train harder to achieve the effects he wanted, in addition of course to broadening his spell arsenal.
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There was still some cosmetic damage, the mages in the infirmary had only gone so far as to mend bones and the other essentials, a few bruises were of no real consequence. In that respect Ren had to agree, better they save their mana for the wounded men coming in, not that there were that many at this point in time, the Rune Knight’s knights were a tried and tested combat machine, those of who could actually fight, if one came in wounded, then the villian he was fighting must have been worse. Though that was an extremely rose coloured view. Despite the fact that it was peace time, there would still be criminals. That was why he would be bearing the Rune Knight’s Emblem on his clothes. He did not like most of the members but those he did were very memorable and he too wished to be among those ranks. He winced as he accidentally pressed one of his bruises by sitting up. If nothing else, the spar had at least improved his tolerance for receiving a magic-assisted beating.

He was sitting in his room, after being given instruction to rest a little while, though the fight had gotten his blood pumping, and he was eager to train again. His hands were after all, healed and ready to hit something else, preferably something a little more yielding. He staunched his adrenaline though, better to wait a few days and study before he began another bout of physical punishment. He flipped open another book and eased himself into the chair before the desk. He’d have to draft up a handful or runes in order to make his efforts more fruitful. There were a handful he’d marked in a few of his tomes, all he had to do now was copy them out on large sheets of paper, and heal up before the next push. Now he was moving, and it would take something more than a beating to slow him down.
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Ren trudged through the dusty roads, heading out of the city. There was kit bag slung across his back, witch clanked a little as he walked, as the varying things inside it struck each other. True to his own word, Ren had prepared tools, runes and methods by which he could train his abilities. He was leaning away from the methods he’d already used, so there wouldn’t be any repetitive punches on a bag (though repetitive punches still remained in the new regime, albeit in another form).

He needed to head out of the city for purposes of his magic, when within the halls of the Rune Knight’s headquarters, there were people he could hurt with his actions, or potentially, he could even inadvertently damage the building. He wasn’t going to risk the wellbeing of others. So he’d plotted out a spot where he would most likely be alone and far from living things. Not all living things obviously, but he hoped the noises created by his training would scare them off, if not… survival of the fittest.

He reached the location with little to hold him up, and put down his bag. He removed his waistcoat and shirt and folded them neatly, placing them on top of a suitably clean rock. He also removed his shoes and socks, no sense in risking his clothing. Bare chested and bare footed, Ren lifted up his hands and began to hit his face to psyche himself up. Now he just had to ready the countermeasures. He pulled a few rolled up sheets of paper and a tin of paint from the sack, and picked out another large rock in the clearing. With one hand, the rune stencil was pressed onto the stone surface, while the other hand dipped the brush into the paint pot. The wet brush slapped against the paper, before tracing the lines in the cut-out, covering the exposed rock beneath. Peeling it away, the now finished rune glistened as the paint dried. It was ripping slightly, and Ren dabbed some of the rolling rips with a fingertip, erasing the line they created so that the rune was perfect, or about as perfect as it was going to be. The rune would both soften and strengthen the surface of the stone, making it slightly less capable of damaging his hand (at least not as quick as it would have done before hand) but at the same time, make it harder to break. Ren smirked and removed his cigarette, flicking the end to deposit a clump of ash before replacing it. His fist drew back, before rocketing forward and slamming into the centre of the rune. He wasn’t sure if the rune worked but the rock didn’t break and neither did his hand so he had presumed it did work.
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A crack of the knuckles acted as the starter’s pistol. His fists were hurled forwards with immense speed, though the blows to a certain degree lacked weight. It was a volley based exercise, fit a certain amount of blows in a certain amount of time. He counted in his head as each punch was thrown.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

He switched from jab to cross, putting a little more force and weight into the attacks. On each impact the rune briefly flashed. It was unlikely that unaltered, the stone would be cracking, these were after all, unaugmented punches, bones were one thing, boulders were another. Cross switched to hook, these were by design much slower, and had the most weight out of these, and often his primary format. Hooks broke jaws, jabs tested the water, a combo of the two often made the former part easier. The flurry gained speed, until he switched to uppercuts. These took the longest and bore the most power, after each one he ducked down and reangled himself before firing upwards again for another punch. He grunted with each blow, and strained his leg muscles to keep up the motion. He needed to train his legs soon, couldn’t let them go neglected. Six hits done again, and so the cycle restarted. This time with more force and speed.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

The rune was near flashing now, and he could feel his knuckles growing rawer he’d break the skin again soon if he kept up. Two more cycles, then he’d tape them up so he could do another few sets. This was only the start, no need to accidentally slow himself down now.

Another sparring session would likely help him considerably, but the luxury of a training partner was one he couldn’t afford right now, he needed to strengthen himself on his own, no need to display a weaker self-image, he wanted a bulletproof reputation, inside and outside the Rune Knight’s. He wouldn’t be able to make criminals cower in fear if they’d heard rumours of his weakness. He wasn’t weak though, not by any stretch, he just wasn’t strong enough to protect people yet.
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That was the goal, to make sure that the people he cared about would be safe, he wouldn’t lose anyone again. This was the more selfish goal at the core of his drive. Yes he wanted to protect people, but primarily he wished to be remembered first and foremost. He’d Seen his father, a retired knight forgotten to those who did not see his feats. Ren did not want that for himself. He wanted to be known all throughout Clover for years to come. He never wanted to end up like his father in that regard.

The allotted cycles completed, he walked back to his bag and pulled out a roll of tape, and began winding it around his hands. As he did Ren could inadvertently feel as though his mana pool was indeed growing larger. Although mainly physical activity he could still feel that this was making a real impact on his magical prowess.

Perhaps a change of exercise was in order, to give his hands time to heal. Shadow boxing was probably a good shout, albeit with some weights in hand. He’d brought a pair of barbells with him, each one weighing twenty-five pounds, enough to make it harder to punch. He lined up, with the sun behind him so that he could see his own shadow and use it to check his form. This was slightly more sporadic, there weren’t any cycles here and there was no straightforward pattern, it was a chance to cut loose and build up some adrenaline. The punches came slow and heavy, he strained to complete each punch, and his muscles were burning after a solid minute of punching. This was his fighting style, no twirly martial arts or dancing hybrids, this was brutal, unyielding force, raw power, just like his father. Once he had enough magic to back up his unbridled force, then he’d be unstoppable, a juggernaut. Wind magic could be funnelled into limbs to enhance their damaging power and just totally blow other spells away. He wanted to see the looks on the faces of his enemies when he deflected incoming spell with nought more than a swing of his fist (from their perspective anyway) before blowing them to a wonderland with a snap of his fingers. If this relationship between him and his magic meant that the magic became stronger, then so much the better. No-one would be able to retaliate if every bone, muscle and organ in their body had been hurt in a single fell swoop. That would be how he ensured his friends would stay safe and how he would be remembered. Only then would he allow himself to form bonds with other people, until he could protect them, friends were a risk, a knife poised above his heart one he was not too comfortable to tempt.
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His form was solid, he couldn’t find any fault in the movements of his shadow, though the story may have been different if it was a mirror instead. After all, the perspective was slightly off, the shadow short and stunted by comparison to his own height and bulk, might have meant his form wasn’t as good as it looked. The weights were beginning to take their toll on his muscles, which felt like they were made from hot lead. He went for a final push, throwing a hard flurry of jabs at the air in front of him. He grit his teeth so hard he bit through the end of his cigarette. He ceased after a thirty second spurt, dropping the weights and shaking out his arms. Hurt like hell, but it was progress. Onto the next step though.

Using a foot, Ren rolled the dumbells into the back of a small drag sled. He’d picked it up a few days back and modified it slightly so that it would meet his needs. In slow deliberate steps, he walked to where the tethers were laying, neatly untangled and ready to be wrapped around his arms. The ropes wound around a good three times, whilst leaving enough length for him to tug them with some force. Now it was just a matter of planting one foot in front of the other. With a grunt, Ren started a slow run, building up speed. The sled followed, making a small trench behind him as the weights inside it pushed it into the ground. The purpose was to hold him back, strengthen his leg muscles by making it harder for him to run. It wasn’t particularly heavy to start off with, it wasn’t to stop him after all, it was merely meant as a start. Similar to the mentality behind the weights, this would make moving without weights attached considerably easier. He managed about a hundred metres away from his ear before he turned around and started heading back, it was a tricky manoeuvre but he managed it. Whilst moving he took to throwing a few punches, rocking from side to side as he threw each one. His punch speed seemed to have increased following the weighted shadow boxing. He grinned. It was already working, soon he’d be strong enough to stretch out on his own completely, a knight of the council, with enough power at his back to push him up through the ranks. He didn’t know how far he wanted to go yet, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to stay a page. Gritting his teeth he increased his pace until he was sprinting it hurt and the sled was tilting slightly, causing the back to dig into the ground a little more and try and hold him back, though with less contact on the ground, it couldn’t achieve this as well as it did before.
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He did a few laps of the clearing, after realising that he was wasting time and energy doing lengths. After al wasn’t the aim to work smarter not harder, taking that into account he could get considerably stronger, as he’d be doing both. Twelve laps down, with the sled in tow and his legs were burning, but he wasn’t done, though he slowed to a halt to alter the sled a little. Once he’d bunged a few additional weights into the back of it, Ren also deployed a small claw-like implement that dug into the ground. These two factors would make the job quite a bit harder. He wound the straps around his arms again and broke out into a run. As expected there was a lot more of a strain, and his running altered into periods of short burst of speed, followed by a few steps of slow plodding. Training his speed was much tougher than training his punches, though he was probably making headway, even though it wasn’t immediately clear whether that was the case or not.

Ren twisted in his loping run, angling himself towards the rock he had been ‘sparring’ with earlier, and diverted a small portion of Wind magic energy into his fists. Like a muscle, magic needed to be used in order to grow more powerful. With a flick of his wrists, the ropes wound around his arms unwound and his balance altered, forcing him forward, he ran with it, and used it to build up speed. The ground beneath his feet froze somewhat with each step, as in his excitement he lost a portion of his control. With a final leap he punched forwards, landing a blow in the centre of the painted spell circle. The rock cracked under the force as the majority of the inside was froze. Hairline splits spider-webbed out from the larger trenches. It wasn’t a huge impact, but it was simply the opening affair. By funnelling his energy into a punch, he was coupling his growing physical strength with the power of his magic, making the impact that much stronger. He drew back his right arm, leaving behind an indent in the surface, before planting his left a few inches away from it. There was less force in this one, as there hadn’t been as much momentum behind it. There were still cracks though.
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Even with the rune strengthening the stone structure, he was still damaging it. Ren could only guess what these blows would do to flesh and bone. No doubt he’d find out soon. He was eager to get out into the field and test his limits. True he had been less than successful in his spar against Garret a few days previously, but he had grown since then, in terms of strength at the very least. His drive had also received a boost, though perhaps that was not as essential. The hammer blows landed with greater speed and frequency, Ren leaned forwards into the attacks, his arms blurring slightly as more Wind magic energy was channelled through them. Chips of stone spiralled through the air under. The cracks were working their way around the stone though, snaking around the back of the boulder, while the ‘face’ grew progressively more smashed.



Focusing his mind, Ren pushed more power into his limbs. He thought about his goal, and the things he’d lost along the way. The rage culminated in an explosion of wind force, that split the boulder in two. Fragments pinwheeled towards his face, lifting his guard, the fragments were blown away back into the distance. He’d succeeded in destroying the boulder then splitting the boulder in two, but he could do better, he could do more. He needed to sharpen his abilities. The more time he spent honing his magic, the less concentration he’d need in order to make full use of his arsenal. That or the concentration would be easier, and he wouldn’t have to spend time focusing on clearing his mind. Similar to muscle memory, he’d soon have magic memory. When he had the field experience to back it up, he’d be even stronger. He’d not even applied his strengthening runes yet, or his additional tattoos, he only had the basics. He paused mid punch, he hadn’t applied his tattoos yet and most to the others he had made were already faded.
His curiosity satisfied for now, Ren retrieved the roll of bandages from his bag and applied a proper dressing to his hands. The knuckles were bleeding at this point, the skin once again split, though it was more of a slight trickle as opposed to a steady flow as it had been previously. Once his hands were dressed, he dressed himself, slipping back into his shirt and buttoning it up half way, he hooked his coat over his shoulders and tucked his bag under his arm. This had been a part of his first step into true power. He'd buried his head in books for years, trying to figure out what magic complemented his style and form, and now that it was decided, and learned, he could make his entrance on the world stage. Now to climb the ladder!

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