Morning training drained the trio, but breakfast restored them just enough to complain.

  Kael sprawled across a bench.

  Eryn nursed tea like bitter medicine.

  Borgas inhaled Dael’s pastries like a happy bear.

  Yava, as always, watched in silence, Galaxy Eyes half-lidded and calm.

  Dael wiped a bowl, glanced outside, and frowned.

  “Hm. Troublesome wind.”

  Kael blinked. “Trouble… how?”

  Dael answered with a flat stare.

  “The kind of trouble that smells like idiots.”

  The inn door opened.

  Six familiar thugs from last night stood there.

  But this time they didn’t rush or shout.

  They stepped aside.

  A seventh man walked in.

  He wasn’t tall, but every inch of him seemed carved from stone.

  His quiet footsteps made the floorboards creak.

  Murmurs spread like wildfire.

  “That’s Girou…”

  “The Iron-Skinned Holder…”

  “Why is he here?!”

  Girou’s eyes swept across the inn, stopping on the trio.

  “You three humiliated my men.”

  Kael stood, grip tightening on his sword.

  “They started it.”

  Eryn raised a shaking hand.

  “They were also… um… very rude.”

  Borgas nodded. “And loud.”

  Girou ignored the excuses.

  “You fought well,” he said. “For children.”

  His voice hardened.

  “But I don’t tolerate disrespect.”

  His skin darkened—

  Grey.

  Then iron-black.

  Smooth and gleaming like polished armor.

  The trio tensed.

  Yava did not move.

  Round One: Thugs vs Trio

  “Kael, Borgas, Eryn,” Yava said softly, rising from his seat.

  “Lesson three: see real strength up close.”

  The trio exchanged glances.

  Kael grinned. “Permission to fight?”

  “You are permitted,” Yava replied. “You are not guaranteed to win.”

  Dael stepped behind the counter.

  “DON’T wreck my kitchen.”

  The thugs charged.

  Kael slammed into the first thug with a shoulder tackle, sending him flying.

  Eryn sidestepped another and tripped him cleanly.

  Borgas lifted a whole bench and swung it like a club—

  Missing his target, but crushing two thugs with falling debris.

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  “Oops,” Borgas said calmly.

  “You’re a disaster,” Eryn muttered, “but a useful one.”

  Within moments, the six thugs lay groaning on the floor.

  Kael dusted his hands. “Easy.”

  “Sloppy,” Eryn corrected.

  “I liked the bench,” Borgas added.

  Yava sipped his tea.

  “You won against those below your level.”

  Girou stepped forward.

  “You won’t win against me.”

  Round Two: Girou vs Trio

  Kael charged first, swinging his sword—

  CLANG.

  Sparks flew as the blade bounced off Girou’s iron skin.

  Girou’s backhand smashed into Kael’s chest, sending him flying across two tables.

  “KAEL!” Eryn shouted.

  He hurled a chair at Girou’s legs.

  It shattered.

  Girou barely noticed.

  He grabbed Eryn by the collar and flung him aside.

  Eryn rolled until he hit a barrel and stayed there upside down.

  “I regret everything…” he croaked.

  Borgas roared and charged.

  His double-fist strike landed—

  THUD.

  Girou didn’t budge.

  He kneed Borgas in the stomach.

  Borgas folded instantly.

  The trio lay defeated.

  Girou stepped past them.

  “That is a Holder,” he said.

  “You lack strength. Discipline. Experience.”

  He raised a hand toward Kael.

  “And if you resist again, I break bones.”

  Kael tried to stand… then froze as a hand touched his shoulder.

  Yava.

  “That is enough,” he said.

  Kael looked up.

  “Master…”

  Yava stepped forward, sleeves drifting like calm waves.

  The Flowing Palm — Yava’s First Spatial Technique

  Girou glared.

  “You’re their teacher?”

  “I am,” Yava said. “You’ve shown them their limits. For that, I am grateful.”

  Girou hardened his skin fully, turning pitch-iron black.

  “Then let me show you yours!”

  He lunged.

  Yava raised a single hand.

  The space near Girou’s heel shimmered—barely visible, like heat haze.

  Spatial Technique — Minor Fold.

  A half-inch distortion.

  Almost nothing.

  But Girou’s foot landed wrong.

  His balance broke.

  His eyes widened.

  “What—?!”

  Yava stepped in.

  His sleeve fluttered.

  His palm rose in a clean arc.

  He whispered:

  “Heaven-Shearing Hand.”

  BOOOOOOOM.

  A compressed shockwave exploded.

  Girou blasted across the inn, smashing through two empty tables, sliding across the floor until he crashed against the far wall.

  The iron sheen on his skin flickered—cracked—then shattered completely.

  Silence.

  Dust drifted down like snow.

  Kael’s jaw hit the floor.

  Eryn forgot how lungs worked.

  Borgas sat down with a thump.

  Yava lowered his hand and looked at his palm.

  Then at Dael.

  “Oops, I did it again. Well, I reduced the power a lot,” Yava said quietly.

  “But it can still destroy the inn. Sorry, Dael.”

  Dael stared at the crater in his wall.

  “…Reduced? This is my entire life saving. You sly fox”

  He pointed at Yava with a trembling ladle.

  “I’m raising your rent 10 folds.”

  Girou’s Reaction

  A groan came from the wreckage.

  Girou pushed himself upright, sweat dripping down his forehead.

  He looked at his arms—

  at the cracks in his prized Iron Skin.

  Cracks.

  He stared at Yava in disbelief.

  “…My Iron Skin… shattered… from one strike…?”

  He laughed once—short, breathless.

  “I lost…?”

  He tasted the words, confused and humbled.

  “Well then…”

  He wobbled to his feet and pointed weakly toward the exit.

  “Let’s retreat, boys.”

  The thugs scrambled to obey.

  At the doorway, Girou paused.

  He didn’t turn back, but his voice carried clearly.

  “Old man… one day… I’ll hit you for real.”

  Yava smiled faintly.

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  The door shut behind them.

  Dael smacked Yava and the trio lightly with a ladle.

  “IDIOTS! Who’s fixing all this?!”

  The trio groaned.

  Kael: “Why us?!”

  Eryn: “My ribs hurt…”

  Borgas: “Can we eat first?”

  “No,” Dael said. “Fix. Everything.”

  Hours passed. The inn slowly returned to normal.

  As sunset colored the sky, the trio slumped into chairs.

  Yava stood by the window.

  “Master,” Kael said quietly,

  “We lost.”

  “Yes,” Yava said immediately.

  Eryn winced. “That was fast…”

  Borgas mumbled, “Are we… weak?”

  Yava turned to them.

  “What you faced today was a real Holder. You felt the difference between your current selves… and those who have walked the path longer.”

  He lifted a hand.

  “Lesson six:

  Do not fear seeing your limits.

  Fear staying the same after seeing them.”

  The trio absorbed the words in silence.

  Then Dael cleared his throat.

  “And lesson seven,” he added,

  “If you three are going to use my inn as a battle arena again, get strong enough not to break my tables.”

  They groaned.

  Dael smirked.

  Even Yava cracked a faint smile.

  Beyond Eryndor’s bay, dark clouds gathered far on the horizon.

  And somewhere out there, rumors already spread—

  of a merchant with Galaxy Eyes

  and a man with iron skin

  whose pride had been shattered.