Chapter 176: Hand-to-Hand Only

Evren pulled a pair of loose black athletic pants from his wardrobe and slipped them on. He grabbed a dark, fitted compression shirt, pulled it over his chest, and laced up a pair of lightweight training shoes.

Throwing a clean gray gym towel over his shoulder, he walked out of his master suite and stepped into the private express elevator at the end of the hall. He tapped the glowing button for the 73rd floor, feeling the lift slide smoothly downward with a quiet hum.

When the doors slid open, a cool breeze and the clean smell of polished rubber and leather greeted him.

The entire 73rd floor was an enormous private combat gym and training arena, designed specifically for high-rank awakeners. Soft overhead lights automatically flickered to life, illuminating rows of heavy punching bags, power racks, private sauna suites, and a massive raised sparring ring lined with thick padded mats.

Huge floor-to-ceiling windows lined the outer wall, offering a breathtaking, panoramic view of District 1’s neon-lit skyscrapers late at night.

The space was completely soundproofed and private, built with reinforced alloy walls that could absorb high-tier mana shockwaves without a single scratch. A rack of blunt training weapons... wooden practice swords, blunted daggers, and rubber combat knives stood neatly organized beside the ring.

"Now this is a proper setup," Evren muttered, looking around with an impressed nod. It was far better than any commercial gym in the city, giving him complete freedom to unleash his power without holding back.

He walked over to the center mat, dropped his towel and water bottle on a side bench, and began loosening his shoulders.

With the rich mana from the S-Rank beef still buzzing in his system, his body felt lighter than air. He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, feeling his muscles respond with instant, effortless power.

Moving over to a heavy leather bag suspended from an iron chain, Evren wrapped his hands with black athletic tape. He took a steady breath, settled into a balanced stance, and threw his first punch.

The heavy bag rocked back violently, the thick leather groaning under the impact. Evren didn’t pause, immediately flowing into a rapid three-punch combination followed by a sharp left hook.

His movements were rhythmic and perfectly balanced. Guided by his kinetic flow passive, every shift of his weight and twist of his hips delivered maximum force with zero wasted energy. The air cracked with small pops as his fists snapped forward, pushing the heavy bag into a wild, swaying arc.

He circled the bag, firing off swift jabs, snapping body kicks, and explosive knee strikes.

The loud, steady rhythm of fists hitting leather echoed across the empty training hall. Sweat began to bead on his forehead and soak through his shirt, but instead of getting tired, he felt even more energized.

He shifted into footwork drills, testing his burst speed across the rubber mats. In quick, blinding dashes, he practiced his shadow-step transitions, stopping on a dime and turning into defensive stances with total balance.

After ten solid rounds of non-stop drills, Evren stepped back with a deep exhale. His chest was heaving, and a pleasant burn ran through his shoulders and legs.

He grabbed his towel, wiping the sweat from his neck and face before taking a long, cold drink from his water bottle.

As he lowered the bottle, a faint ripple in the ambient shadows near the edge of the ring caught his attention. His passive danger sense didn’t flare with hostility, but his body instantly registered a familiar presence.

"You have impressive form for someone who claims to prefer delegating," a quiet, smooth voice came from the dim corner of the gym.

Evren lowered his towel and turned toward the sound with an amused smile.

Zephyra stepped out of the shadows, walking barefoot onto the edge of the black sparring mats. She was wearing a sleek black sports top and fitted athletic leggings that showed off her toned, athletic figure, with her long silver hair tied back in a high ponytail.

"Were you watching me the whole time, or did you just get here?" Evren asked, leaning back against the ropes of the ring.

"Just got here," Zephyra admitted softly, stopping a few feet away from him. "Though with that dinner you made, sleeping was completely impossible. My mana channels have been buzzing since we left the table, and when I felt the elevator move, I figured you were having the same problem."

"Yeah, the extra energy is no joke," Evren chuckled, tossing his towel back onto the bench. "I needed to sweat some of it out before my head hit the pillow."

Zephyra’s violet eyes flickered toward his wrapped hands, a subtle, competitive glint surfacing in her gaze. "Solo bag drills can only do so much to burn off high-rank mana. Would the Chairman care for a proper sparring partner?"

Evren raised an eyebrow, stepping back toward the center of the large mat. "Hand-to-hand only? No shadow daggers?"

"Hand-to-hand only," Zephyra agreed, a rare, teasing smirk touching her lips. "Unless you’re worried about getting bruised."

"You’ll have to land a hit first," Evren replied with a grin, raising his fists into a relaxed guard.

Zephyra didn’t wait.

In a blur of silver and shadow, she crossed the distance in a fraction of a second, throwing a lightning-fast jab toward his chin. Evren leaned back by an inch, letting the punch brush harmlessly past his cheek before he stepped inside to counter with a palm strike toward her ribs.

Zephyra twisted her torso mid-air with incredible flexibility, spinning past his arm and sweeping her right leg toward his ankles.

Evren hopped over the sweep cleanly, turning on his left foot to tap her shoulder with an open hand. "Point to me," Evren said with a chuckle.

Zephyra spun around with a faint scoff, her violet eyes shining with excitement. "Don’t get cocky."

The pace picked up immediately.

They moved across the wide mat in a blur of strikes, dodges, and swift blocks. Zephyra fought with the lethal, unpredictable agility of an S-Rank shadow assassin, while Evren moved with the calm, predictive perfection of his kinetic flow.

She faked a low strike, suddenly using the ring ropes to spring upward in a fluid acrobatic leap. Evren caught her by the waist mid-air, absorbing her momentum as they both landed firmly on the padded floor.

Before she could break away, she threw a flurry of rapid palm checks against his chest, which Evren deflected by parrying with his forearm.

The sound of skin slapping against skin and bare feet squeaking across the rubber mats filled the quiet arena. With every passing second, the distance between them shrank.

Evren slipped beneath a high kick, catching her heel and pulling her off balance. Instead of falling, Zephyra used his grip as leverage, launching her other knee straight toward his chest. Evren caught her knee with his forearm, their momentum carrying them into a tight grapple against the ropes.

Zephyra’s body pressed firmly against his chest, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. A sheen of light sweat glistened across her pale collarbones, and the fresh scent of wild jasmine and warm skin filled his senses.

Her curves fit perfectly against him, soft yet firm with lean, coiled muscle.

For a second, their eyes locked.

Zephyra’s violet gaze was wide and dark, her lips parted as her chest rose and fell against his. The playful competitive spark in the air instantly dissolved, replaced by a heat that made Evren’s pulse spike.

"You’re fast," Evren murmured.

"Not fast enough to get away from you," Zephyra whispered back, her voice trembling slightly as she leaned into his grip.

She tried to twist out of the clinch, using a quick hip turn to sweep his leg and take him down.

But Evren read the shift in her balance perfectly. He locked his arm securely around her waist, spun with her momentum, and took them both down onto the thick center mat.

They hit the canvas with a soft, heavy thud. Evren ended up hovering directly over her, his knees planted on either side of her hips and his hands resting on the mat beside her shoulders. Zephyra lay beneath him, her silver hair spilling out across the black canvas like liquid moonlight.

Neither of them moved. The huge training hall fell into silence, broken only by the sound of their synchronized breathing.

Zephyra looked up at him, her chest heaving against his with every breath. Her cheeks were flushed with a deep, rosy heat, and her violet eyes were filled with raw vulnerability, desire, and unspoken longing. There were no shadows to hide behind, and no excuses left to make.

She slowly raised her hands, resting her palms against his warm, sweat-damp chest. Her fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his shirt.

"Evren..." Zephyra breathed, her voice barely louder than a whisper in the quiet gym.

Evren didn’t say a word. Lowering his head, he captured her parted lips with his own in a deep, hungry, and passionate kiss.