The First Lesson

The landscape stretched infinitely before Arman—a strange mix of terrain. Jagged rocks jutted from patches of sand, while lush grass fought to reclaim the ruins of towering structures. Though broken and crumbling, these ruins carried an undeniable grandeur, as if they had once been wonders of the world.

Arman stood in silent awe, taking in the scenery. But then, something in his hand twitched.

The Key of Emptiness—smooth, cold, and unassuming—began to slip from his grasp. Before he could react, it floated upward, defying gravity. His eyes followed as it hovered in front of him, spinning slightly, as if drawn by an invisible force.

Then, without warning, it rushed toward him.

A sharp gasp escaped his lips as the key pierced his chest, disappearing into his body.

At first, a faint warmth spread across his chest—a subtle, almost soothing sensation. But then, the warmth turned to fire.

Arman gritted his teeth, fingers digging into his shirt as he yanked it down to see what was happening.

His breath caught.

A mark had appeared on his chest—an intricate symbol, identical to the Key of Emptiness. It pulsed faintly, like something alive, something awakening.

Then came the next sensation.

Something rushed through his veins—not like blood, nor like energy. It was a presence, moving within him, yet completely empty. It had weight but no substance, power but no form.

A paradox. A contradiction.

It felt... hollow.

Before he could process the sensation, a figure began to take shape before him.

The air warped, bending like heatwaves, until the form of a man solidified in front of him.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. His long, dark hair brushed against his shoulders, framing a pale face with deep, sunken eyes, as if he hadn't slept for centuries. His right arm looked… off. Like it had been torn off and reattached, the skin around it slightly uneven, the scars almost unnatural.

The man's piercing gaze locked onto Arman.

A slow smirk tugged at his lips.

"So this is how you look." Arman said with a smirk on his face.

It was none other than the spirit that made contract with arman.

Arman exhaled sharply. "Alright, then tell me—what just happened? The Key of Emptiness... It entered my body, and now I feel this... strange emptiness inside me. What is it?"

The man tilted his head slightly, considering his words. Then, after a long pause, he simply said:

"Emptiness."

Arman frowned.

"The Key of Emptiness has merged with your body," the man continued. "Which means... you are now the key. You don't need to enter an ethereal state anymore—you can come and go from this realm whenever you wish. And that strange feeling you sense? That is the power of emptiness, seeping into your very being."

Arman clenched his fists. "Okay… So what can I do with this power?"

The man crossed his arms. "I'll tell you later. But first, there's something more important."

Arman raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"

"You must become what you want to be."

Arman's brows furrowed. "What the hell does that even mean? I don't want to 'become' anything."

"You will understand in time," the man said, his tone unreadable. "But for now... let's begin your training."

Arman exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. "Alright. Do you know any martial arts?"

The man nodded. "Many. But first, show me the fighting style you know."

A small smirk played on Arman's lips. "Oh, that? It's called Jeet Kune Do."

The man's expression didn't change. "Show me everything you know."

Arman took his stance—Bai Jong.

Dominant hand forward. Lead leg in front. Weight balanced.

The man's eyes widened slightly. His expression shifted, like a realization had just hit him like a truck.

His gaze darkened, thoughts swirling behind his eyes.

"...I thought it was lost," he murmured under his breath.

Arman frowned. "What?"

But the man didn't respond. Instead, he mirrored Arman's stance exactly. Every movement identical—the posture, the positioning, the precision.

Then, in an instant, he shifted. He flowed seamlessly into the next movement—one that Arman had only ever seen one person perform.

Gruce Lee.

Arman's stomach twisted. "No way..."

The mentor exhaled, staring at his own hands. "So it survived… even in your era."

Arman's confusion deepened. "What are you talking about?"

The man's eyes gleamed. "The one who created this art—he wasn't its first master. He carried an inheritance far older than even he realized. And now… it's in your hands."

A dark silhouette flickered in his mind—a shadow of a man, one who had left an unshakable mark on the world.

The man shook his head, pushing the thought away.

"Forget the demonstration," he said. "I don't need to see more. I can't make improvements to Jeet Kune Do—it's already perfect. But..."

He let the word hang in the air.

"We can make it stronger."

Arman's lips parted slightly. "Stronger?"

The man gave a small nod. "The first thing I'll teach you is a technique called Dash."

Arman folded his arms. "Dash? Sounds basic."

A faint grin tugged at the man's lips. "Basic? If mastered perfectly, Dash can let you cross an entire city in one step."

Arman's smirk faltered.

"But that's if you master it perfectly, and if you have immense power." The man's grin widened slightly. "And you, kid, aren't even close to that."

Arman exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders.

"Then I guess I'll have to get there."

The man's grin vanished. His eyes turned sharp.

"Then let's begin.

The man gave Arman a sharp look. "Instead of explaining, let me show you."

Before Arman could react, the man vanished.

A gust of displaced air brushed against his skin—like a whisper of movement, so fast his brain barely registered it. No footsteps. No sound. Just… gone.

A tap on his shoulder.

Arman spun around, eyes wide. The man stood behind him, arms crossed, smirking.

"Wha—?!" Arman staggered back, his heart pounding. "That was—"

"Dash." The man cut him off. "That was just the beginner level."

Arman inhaled sharply. "That was just the beginner level?"

The man chuckled. "Yes. Blink Dash."

The Three Stages of Dash

(A) Blink Dash (Beginner Level – Short Distances)

A quick burst of movement covering 10 to 20 meters instantly.

Leaves behind a faint afterimage, tricking opponents.

Perfect for closing gaps in combat.

Arman nodded, intrigued. "So, it's like a speed burst."

The man's smirk widened. "Speed? No. Speed has limits. Dash does not."

(B) Phantom Dash (Intermediate Level – Multi-Directional & Illusions)

No longer limited to a straight line—mid-step redirection is possible.

Leaves multiple afterimages, making it look like the user is everywhere at once.

Requires precise focus to avoid losing control.

Arman's eyebrows raised. "That sounds like teleportation."

"It's not teleportation," the man corrected. "But at high levels… it might as well be."

(C) Void Dash (Advanced Level – Reality-Breaking Movement)

The user merges movement with Void Energy, shifting slightly out of phase with reality.

Can bypass physical barriers by stepping between dimensions for a fraction of a second.

At absolute mastery, Void Dash could cross entire cities instantly, but the energy cost is beyond comprehension.

Arman's mind reeled. Step between dimensions? That sounded like something only monsters should be able to do.

But then the man's expression darkened.

"There's one thing you need to understand," he said, voice serious. "Even I never fully mastered Void Dash."

Arman blinked. "Wait. You're saying... you can't do it?"

The man exhaled, staring at his own hand. "I tried. I came close. But even with all my strength, I never fully grasped the final step."

A pause.

"Void Energy isn't just power. It's emptiness itself. If you make a single mistake, you won't just fail…" His gaze sharpened, meeting Arman's.

"You will disappear. Forever."

Silence hung between them.

Arman swallowed. So even he… struggled with it.

Then a slow smirk crossed his lips. "Well," he said, cracking his knuckles. "I guess that means I'll just have to do what you couldn't."

The man stared at him.

Then, for the first time, he let out a short, genuine laugh.

"Heh. Good answer."