“Fail?”

At what? At everything? At my whole life? What did Master mean?

“Yup.” Master said with a mouthful of hot dog. “This is great by the way. But no, yeah. You’re about to fail at your whole goal and at getting stronger and all of that. All at once. Pretty dire actually.”

My heartbeat began to race. Panic began to set in.

“But, but Master… how? Why? What am I doing wrong?”

“Mm.” He said, taking another bite out of his damn hot dog. Master was always so casual, even at moments like this… where did his sense of urgency go?! Had it died with normalcy as he aged? “Well, it’s really simple actually. You need two things to become stronger. To succeed. In everything really.”

I listened with rapt attention. Even him taking another bite of his food didn’t distract my focus.

“The first, is Pride.”

“Pride?”

“Yeah. You need to have pride. You need to believe you’re worth something and what you do or are trying to do or even going to do, is worth something. But mostly pride in yourself. It’s what makes people rage when someone damages their car or kills people when they feel their dignity is hurt. Without pride you’ll just let things go and move on. What do you care after all? If everything, even yourself, matters to you equally as much as someone stepping on some dirt in a foreign country twenty years ago, you’ll never fight anything.”

“Master. I believe I have Pride-”

“Your pride is shit.” Master said, looking slightly angry for once. “It’s truly trash Mutai. But at least it’s there. It exists. It can be developed further and already is, now that you’re no longer the weakling you were. The problem is the second thing.”

“Okay. Alright. What is it?”

“In a word… dissatisfaction.”

I raised an eyebrow at that. Then both eyebrows as a confused look took over my face. Just, what? What? What on Vega was Master saying?

“Uhhh, what? Explain, please? Master I’m… I’m pretty dissatisfied.”

“No, you’re not. Or at least, you’re close to being not. Dissatisfaction isn’t really the right word. More like… pressure. A combination of the two. With only pride but never any dissatisfaction, you’ll rest on your laurels and annihilate any source that bothers you but it won’t be constant enough for you to progress. You’ll become one of those uppity rich people or young masters satisfied with their meager power.”

I blanched. The idea of me becoming either of those kinds of people felt downright sickening.

“Pressure without pride well, that’s how you get long lasting oppression and also how people will just walk all over you without you ever doing anything back. Conflict avoidance does not a warrior or successful figure make. Anyone who’s ever done anything worth anything, has made enemies and dealt with trash and shit on their way up.”

I thought about it. And realized, horrifyingly, that I had been the second kind of person. That last day… when I’d met that gang… I could have given in. It wouldn’t have been the first time I’d avoided conflict by giving my money or keeping my head down or going along with other people's demands. Master hadn’t said it, but conflicts also had a way of being… unpleasant and deadly. But that was the point wasn’t it? How could anyone do anything if they avoided conflict at every single turn?

What would it have been like, if I hadn’t avoided it? Not with the gang who’d nearly killed me, but with people more in the realm of average human? That time another hobo took my money or when that lady had punched me in the gut. What would’ve happened… if I’d actually fought them? Been more aggressive? Even if I’d left with some extreme damage, I might’ve survived. And that might’ve pushed me forward to breaking that wall faster. A year or two of being an aggressive weakling and only picking fights with those at [5] or below… I might’ve already broken through by the time I met that gang.

My eyes felt opened.

But wait…

“You think I’m not pressured enough? But-”

“Your goals are too far. They’re beyond your horizons. You can’t see them, you can’t feel them, even the memories scorched into you are just that, scorched. They’re not a burning fire needling in your gut all the time. You’re getting too strong too fast for your own self. You’ll crack [5] soon and then [6] and [7] and then what? Your desire for power needs to be more mortal.”

I frowned and thought about that. It never felt like my goal of murdering Vega was too little. That felt like plenty of pressure. But Master wouldn’t be saying all of this if he didn’t truly believe it and well, he simply knew better than I did here. If he said I wasn’t dissatisfied enough, then he was probably right.

“Well, what do I do then Master?”

“You know,” Master started. “Power levels past five and ten don’t go up linearly.”

I blinked in surprise at the seemingly non-sequitur.

“Okay?”

Master just nodded, as if everything made sense.

“Yeah, past those points, power level scaling breaks down strangely. Oh, it’s still extremely effective to know the difference, vital even. But a [10] can take on four or five [5]’s. Maybe more depending on techniques, advantages, body shape, bloodlines, knowledge, magic, etc. And it only starts to grow from there. At some point, the ten percent rule comes into play.”

I nodded along as if I understood why we were talking about this.

“The ten percent rule?”

“You won’t run into it for a while, but it’s simple. If someone has more or less than ten percent of your power level, you’re not equal. Doesn’t mean you can’t win, just that a [63] fighting a [80] is going to have a really hard time. A [90]? Well, they’ll probably be dead quickly. Course, these are just rough figures, I’ve seen someone at half a power level win before. Oh, and uh, I guess don’t underestimate those only ten percent lower?” Master shrugged.

“Sure…” I said, still feeling uncertain.

“Anyway, just thought it’d help keep you alive.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

A chill went up my spine. Something in me told me to run.

“Master?”

Suddenly, Master’s hand was gripping the top of my head. My eyes shot open and I struggled, trying to pry him off. Something wasn’t right.

“You know,” Master said casually, as if he didn’t have my head in a death grip. “Ki really is useful. Lots of utility.”

I could see and feel a blue light above my head. As if something was glowing.

“Master?! W-What’s going on? What are you doing?!”

“Like teleportation. Find the dojo if you survive and I’ll train you some more.”

“Mast-”

*****

“-er!”

I blinked, my voice echoing back at me. What? Where, where am I?

I looked around, seeing nothing but stone walls. No, not stone. Stone brick. But it was dark, the only source of light being from some kind of dim bulbs implanted into the side at set intervals. I was in a tunnel, on a walkway, with another on the opposite side. Between, there was a flowing thing of water. Wait a minute. This was-

The smell slammed into me with a vengeance.

I knew immediately where I was as my soul just about left my body. My heartbeat sped up as I gagged.

“Why-” I cut my voice off, fear overtaking me.

Why am I in the sewer?!

The sewer in Vega City was not normal. I thought I knew and understood sewers. I’d heard about them before ever leaving my island. The one in Vega City was, unique. And deadly. And dangerous. And horrible and awful and-

A skittering noise echoed out in the dark.

Oh no.

Out of the dim darkness… came a rat.

The size of my torso.

I could feel panic begin to overtake me. A cold sweat broke out on my skin. That rat was huge. And it’s power level, that… I was in trouble.

[7]

It sniffed the air, its beady eyes looking all over. Had it not spotted me yet? The answer was taken from me as its head snapped towards me.

I felt its weight slam into me, knocking me to my back. It’d moved so fast! Its horrid breath poured down on top of me, reeking of rot and shit and death. Its claws pulled at my chest, leaving shallow scratches as my hands instinctively tried to push it off me. It was all I could do to barely hold it back and away and it wasn’t a battle I was going to win for long.

Its body lowered as it struggled harder and faster in my grip, my chest alighting into fiery pain as it began to carve into me. It’s rat head squealed and squealed as it leaned down and-

I barely moved my head out of the way as its teeth tore through the space between us, trying to bite my head off. They scraped against the stone with a nasty sound right next to my head. The weight was growing, my arms were failing, teeth were coming for me. The claws would kill me or the teeth would bite into my artery. I’d be dead soon. I was going to die to a rat in a sewer looking for a meal.

No! I refuse!

Fury overtook me. I wasn’t going to die like this. Not like this! I pushed, my muscles straining, my own aggression rising, and with a heave, I managed to throw it off me. My arms hurt, my chest was a bloody mess, and I was already tired and all I’d managed to do was throw a rat off me.

It was already back on its feet, hissing and growling at me.

I wanted to run. So much of me wanted to run away. I was outmatched, outsped, this thing was at least two, maybe three times stronger than the current me. Logic hit first.

It’s just too fast.

Rats were faster than people without a power advantage. With one, I didn’t stand a chance. I’d just get my back ripped apart.

Emotion blossomed and slammed into my stomach next. Master’s words reverberated inside me.

“Anyone who’s ever done anything worth anything, has made enemies.”

I was going to win. In that timeless moment, as a rat with over double my power level stared at me in anger and hunger, I realized it.

I was going to win.

It came fast, too fast for me to see. I was already moving. I wasn’t thinking, thinking could come later or when I needed it. It was too fast for me to think right now, I was moving on instinct. Master’s words practically flowed into my ears.

“Punch it.”

And for the first time… I threw a fist that actually did something.

It had leaped at me, aiming to do another flying tackle. I hadn’t known. I’d just punched forward, hoping to hit it. My fist slammed into its nose, knocking it back and making it let out a cry of pain. My fist hurt. I was still weak. This was like a weak teenager trying to beat a very fit adult. In so many ways, they’d lose.

But this wasn’t a person. It was an angry animal.

As it came again, I realized just what an angry animal could do. My punch didn’t land this time and it slammed into me, rolling with me, biting and scratching and screaming. Its aggression was unlike anything I’d ever faced. Fear lanced through me.

And something awoke.

Something dark and evil and furious came out of me. This thing was on me. This thing was hurting me. This thing was killing me.

This thing thought it knew anger.

I screamed and bit and headbutted and tore and tore. My fists and elbows landed when they could, my thumbs rammed into eyes, I bit its tongue, I rolled it onto its back and beat it with my fists. It gave as good as it got, blood running down me, pain lighting me up, but it didn’t matter. This thing had never trained, it had never tried, it had only lived a life of survival.

Well, guess what rat? So have I.

It was stronger, it was faster, it might have even been meaner.

I was angrier.

My blows rained on its head, knocking it around even as it bit my arm and tore my flesh.

But my punches weren’t nothing anymore.

They dazed it. Even weak, my punches were blows to the head and they had my full fury behind them. It wasn’t enough to kill, I wasn’t strong enough yet. But as it bit for my neck again, only barely missing, it shook its head in frustration.

I didn’t miss the chance.

I shoved it down and tore into its neck with my teeth.

It was like trying to bite through plaster covered in wet disgusting fur. I didn’t stop. Not until I tore it out. The rat paused for only a second, the violence stilling, before it went berserk.

It was dying now. I’d killed it. Blood was pumping up through its neck where I’d managed to bite through an artery. Red blood coated us both, like a fire hose splashing around us. It knew it was dying.

And it was determined to take me with it.

Claws ripped through flesh, teeth bit through my body, two of my fingers were nearly torn off and my body was growing weak from blood loss.

But slowly.

The fighting slowed.

The aggression slowed.

And I stared into the giant rat’s eyes as its soul left its body.

Just like when I’d seen my mother die.

I puked. I screamed in agony and puked.

That was not a glorious fight.

That was a dirty, deadly, awful, scrap in the shit and piss. That was a fight for survival. That was the death of another creature by my hands. That was…

That was my first victory.

I roared.