A gentle breeze blew past the grassy field, as both father and son had each of their gazes locked in on the other. James was the first to make his move, having decided that a peaceful solution was no longer feasible. Trying to take advantage of his height, James took long steps in order to compensate for his bulky frame that slowed him down, while Timothy stood there with a slightly confused expression on his face.

As Tim saw his father approach with such ferocity, he was very conflicted. Even if this was a simulation, he did not want to harm his father. However, that was not the source of his confusion. Try as he might, he couldn't summon either of his trump cards. Both the Dao of the Wind and Mists were utterly unresponsive, totally oblivious to his plight.

James had made it within striking distance, only a couple meters had separated them to begin with. Using the momentum generated by his sprint, James used it to throw a lumbering right hook directed right towards Tim's jaw. One which Tim should've dodged easily. That's when the second painful realization came.... Tim was no different from his old self in this realm, he had no agility level to rely on.

His limited, but intense combat experience did not fail him though, and he reflexively used his left hand to throw a defensive hook, essentially using his arm to take the brunt of the blow. He was forced to take a step back to regain his footing, and his left arm was screaming in pain from the strength behind that monsterous blow. James didn't miss this opportunity and followed through, taking a step forward with his left and throwing a jab with his right directed towards Tim's abdoment.

Having his momentum disturbed from the start, and suddenly having to cope with a loss of all his agility, Tim had made a mistake from the very begining. The defensive jab managed to defend him in the short term, but ended up blocking his field of view. He felt the wind being knocked out of him as the right jab connected, as he crumpled to the ground in a kneeling position.

Both his arms guarded his face reflexively, as he desperately heaved for every single breath of air.

James looked down at the kneeling Tim with apathy, as if this outcome was nothing out of his expectations. Not even feeling the need to use his fists anymore, he casually punted Tim aside with a kick, but even that sent Tim rolling away in agony.

"This is what happens when you, in your delusions, convince yourself to be that which you are not. That which you never will be. Face the reality Timothy. You are WEAK."

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James did not attack further, but instead waited for Timothy to recover.

"Just give up, and this shall all end. Why must you feel pain for the sake of those whom you do not know? Those who you do not care about. Those who do not care about you, son. They never have."

As Timothy wheezed and coughed for air, he still continued to try and get back to his feet. Tried and failed. Tried and failed, repeatedly. Minutes passed, and he finally managed to get back to his knees, when he was kicked back into the ground from behind, tasting an unpleasant mixture of blood, grass and soil in his mouth.

"Incompetent. Recluse. Failure. Immature. Delusional. If you were not my son, this is how I would describe you. If you applied for a job in my company, even with your impressive degree that I paid for, you would still be rejected. Why do you continue to struggle towards such a pointless endeavour, just lie down and let me take care of things like I always have. And I will continue to do so. You've done enough, let me take things from here on."

"Enough" replied Tim, in a raspy voice that seemed devoid of any emotion.

James wondered if Timothy had finally broken and given up.

"YOU... have said ENOUGH!" said Tim, as he procured a sudden burst of energy from seemingly nowhere. Using both his arms, he pushed down at the ground, as if he were doing a push up. His right leg moved inwards, followed by his left. He exerted all of his strength against the ground, the momentum enabling him to get back on two feet, albiet barely. He knew James was behind him, and an attack was most likely already in motion. There was no way he could block it, but the speed of his rise had probably caught the slow and lumbering James off guard.

A kick connected with his back, but he was prepared for it. He himself had already began stumbling forward, and as the kick came he did his best to maintain his balance while gaining distance between the two.

Tim turned around and gazed at an ashen faced James with a calm gaze.

"You are not my father. You are not me either, are you? To think that the repressed emotions in my heart had taken... such a warped nature, to think I hated myself this much, really is a hard thing to accept. I believed in what you said, and I berated myself for it. I have been, for years. Denying it won't change the truth either. But you know what?"

"......"

"From now on, this is who I am. For once, this is who I choose to be. I may be all the things you said I am, but I will not hate myself for it. I'm right here aren't I? I'll work towards who I want to be instead of moping around about it. And at this crossroads, I will use this twist in destiny for a cause greater than myself, greater than I could've ever imagined representing. And the winds...... shall no longer deny my call."

A gale started coalescing around Tim in the centre, as if acknowledging his existence and acquiescing to his demands.