Here’s the expanded version at ~1200 words, same start, same end:

The next day.

Before sunrise.

Jelo, Atlas, and Mira stood in front of Tongen’s house, still half-asleep but already tense. The sky was a bruised, lightless grey, and the cold clung to their skin like something deliberate. No one had slept well. Jelo had stared at the ceiling for most of the night, turning over the moments from yesterday—every stumble, every correction, every quiet second where Tongen had simply watched him and said nothing.

Atlas yawned, jaw cracking loudly.

“Why do I feel like today is going to be worse than yesterday…”

Mira crossed her arms.

“Because it is.”

Jelo said nothing. He could already feel it. Something in the air was different—heavier, somehow. Like the morning itself was bracing.

The door opened.

Tongen stepped out.

No greeting. No warmth. He walked past them without a glance, his footsteps unhurried and precise, and they fell into line behind him without being told.

“Follow me.”

They arrived at a much larger training field behind the house—far wider than before, with broken stone pillars jutting from the earth at odd angles, uneven terrain that rose and dipped without warning, and scorch marks burned deep into the ground from battles that had happened long before any of them were here. This wasn’t a training ground. It was a battlefield. The kind that had already seen things they hadn’t earned the right to understand yet.

Tongen walked to the center and turned.

“Yesterday,” he said, “you completed the task.”

Atlas grinned slightly, shoulders loosening.

“Yeah, we—”

“You succeeded,” Tongen cut in, “because I allowed it.”

Silence dropped over the field like a lid.

The three of them froze. Atlas’s half-formed expression didn’t finish forming. Mira went very still. Jelo just watched Tongen’s face, searching for something—a tell, a crack, anything—and found nothing.

Tongen’s gaze sharpened.

“I was holding back. A lot.”

Atlas’s smile disappeared completely.

“…I figured.”

Mira gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. Jelo said nothing. He had figured it too—he just hadn’t wanted to say it out loud.

Tongen raised his hand. The red ball materialized in his palm, hovering just above his fingers.

“But that phase is over.”

He closed his fist around it slowly.

“This time… you will not take it from me.”

Atlas frowned.

“Then what are we doing?”

Tongen’s voice dropped, flattening into something almost quiet.

“This time…”

He let the pause sit.

“You will try to survive.”

Before they could react—

BOOM.

Tongen vanished. The ground beneath them didn’t just shake—it split, stone fracturing outward in sharp lines like something had decided the earth was no longer enough.

“MOVE!” Mira shouted.

Jelo activated Wing Burst without thinking, the world blurring as he disappeared from where he’d been standing. Atlas dropped to both knees and slammed his palms flat against the ground.

“Earth Wall!”

A massive slab of stone tore upward in front of them—solid, thick, wide enough to matter—

CRACK.

Tongen’s fist went straight through it like it was paper. Not broken—punctured. Clean through, dust still falling when Atlas’s eyes went wide.

“No way—”

WHAM.

The shockwave alone sent Atlas flying backward, his feet leaving the ground entirely before he hit dirt.

Mira moved without hesitation. Two clones split from her body, each one a perfect mirror, and all three of them scattered in different directions.

Tongen didn’t chase.

He looked at the ground beneath him. Then tapped it lightly—one tap, almost casual.

BOOM.

A ring of force erupted outward at ground level. All three Miras were lifted off their feet and thrown back hard. The clones dissolved mid-air, vanishing like smoke. Mira hit the earth and rolled, gasping.

Jelo reappeared behind Tongen, already committed.

“Dragon Claw!”

A crescent of sharp energy tore through the air toward his back—clean, fast, well-timed.

Tongen didn’t even turn. He shifted his weight slightly, one step to the left, and the attack passed through empty space where he had been a half-second ago. Then—without turning, without looking—he flicked his hand backward.

The air itself hit Jelo.

Not a strike. Not a visible technique. Just force, sudden and total.

BAM.

Jelo hit the ground face-first, the breath knocked completely out of him.

Atlas rushed back in, teeth set, rock already forming over his right fist.

“Stone Fist!”

The punch came in heavy—the weight of the rock, the force behind it, everything Atlas could compress into one swing.

Tongen caught it. One hand. Without adjusting his footing.

He looked directly at Atlas, almost bored.

“Too slow.”

BOOM.

Atlas was driven into the ground with force that seemed to come from everywhere at once.

Within seconds, all three of them were down. Breathing in ragged pulls. Barely able to move. The field was still and quiet except for the sound of their own laboring.

Tongen stood in the center of it all. Perfectly calm.

“Stand up.”

No one moved.

“I said…” His voice didn’t rise. It just became sharper, the way a blade gets sharper, not louder.

“Stand up.”

Jelo moved first. Arms shaking, legs unsteady, he pushed himself upright. Then Atlas. Then Mira. All three of them standing on something closer to willpower than strength.

“Again.”

The next attempt lasted longer. Not by much. Mira tried to coordinate—calling out timing, directing angles, giving them something like a plan. Atlas reshaped the terrain, raising walls and trenches to break Tongen’s movement. Jelo focused on timing, watching for gaps. They were trying. That much was real.

It didn’t matter.

They failed. Again. And again. Hours passed. The sun rose higher and the heat it brought wasn’t kindness—it just made everything heavier.

At one point Jelo used Wing Burst three times in rapid succession. On the third, his legs nearly gave out mid-movement. He stumbled, and Tongen was already there.

“Poor stamina management.” BAM. Down again.

Atlas raised massive earth structures across the entire field—towers, walls, ridges—pouring everything into them. Tongen walked through each one without stopping. “Power without precision is useless.”

Mira sent all three of her clones in from separate angles simultaneously, perfectly timed, trying to overwhelm his processing. Tongen closed his eyes. Opened them. Moved once. All three were down. “Predictable.”

By midday they could barely hold their stances. Jelo was on one knee. Atlas was on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes. Mira was standing—barely—jaw set, refusing to sit even though every part of her wanted to.

Tongen looked at them without expression.

“You rely too much on your abilities.” He pointed at Jelo. “Speed.” At Atlas. “Power.” At Mira. “Numbers.” He folded his arms. “But none of you understand combat fundamentals. You’ve been using your abilities as substitutes for understanding. They’re not the same thing.”

Jelo’s hand clenched weakly against his knee.

“…Then teach us.”

Tongen looked at him. A long pause. Then a small, single nod.

“Good.”

He stepped forward.

“This training continues every day. Until you improve.” He turned away. “Right now, you are nowhere near satisfactory.”

None of them argued. They were too exhausted. Too beaten. Too honest with themselves about the distance between where they were and where they needed to be.

As he walked away: “Rest for one hour. Then we continue.”

Atlas groaned from the ground.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…”

Mira sat down slowly, elbows on her knees.

“This… is just the beginning.”

Jelo looked at his hand. Still shaking. Still weak. He turned it over slowly, studying it like it belonged to someone else. But his eyes—they weren’t the eyes of someone breaking.

If this is what it takes…

Then I’ll keep going.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep