Riven tried to shake off the uneasy feeling from Kael's words, but it wasn't that easy. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the smirk on Kael's face, hear the weight behind the words "Black Gale's ghost."
The next day at school, Riven couldn't avoid Kael—though he tried. Kael always seemed to find a way to get close. Whether it was walking into the classroom just as Riven was about to leave or showing up unexpectedly at his locker, Kael seemed determined to make contact.
The entire class noticed, but no one dared say anything. It was clear: Kael, with his charm and confidence, had already made a name for himself. But it was Riven, the quiet, mysterious guy in the back of the room, who became the subject of whispered questions. Why was Kael so focused on him? What did he see in Riven?
Kael finally spoke again, after class, as Riven was heading to his locker.
"Got any plans after school?" Kael's voice was casual, but there was something dangerous hidden beneath it. He didn't wait for Riven's answer, his smirk playing on his lips. "Maybe I'll show you some real fighting. You remember how to throw a punch, right?"
Riven froze. That smirk... it was the same smirk that had haunted him in his dreams, the one that whispered danger.
"What do you want?" Riven finally muttered, his voice low and strained. The question was simple, but it carried a heavy weight.
Kael leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing. "I want to see the Hidden Fist again. I know you've got it in you."
The words were like a challenge, an open invitation to unlock the beast inside. But Riven had worked so hard to lock it away, to bury that side of himself under layers of silence and distance.
"I'm not that person anymore," Riven said, his voice sharper than he intended. He quickly turned to leave, but Kael stepped into his path, blocking his way.
"Sure, you're not," Kael said, eyes flashing with something Riven couldn't quite place. "But I think you know better. The real question is—how long can you keep that beast locked away before it claws its way out?"
Riven's fists clenched at his sides. His heart began to race, the memory of the fight, the blood, the adrenaline surging through his veins. He hated it. He hated that part of himself. But Kael wasn't wrong. The beast was still there.
He didn't want to acknowledge it. He didn't want to feel that part of himself again—the part that had been forged in the rings of underground arenas, the part that thrived on combat and destruction. The memories came rushing back like a flood: the roaring crowds, the harsh clang of fists meeting flesh, the adrenaline high that had once felt so intoxicating.
Riven's hand instinctively went to his pocket, brushing against the cold metal of the ring he kept hidden there. The same ring that had been his only reminder of those days—days filled with fights, fame, and the ghosts of people he'd hurt. It was all still there, buried beneath layers of normalcy, waiting for the right moment to resurface.
"Leave me alone," Riven said, his voice rougher than before, trying to push past Kael.
Kael stepped aside, but not before calling out one last thing.
"I'll be waiting. The Hidden Fist can't stay hidden forever."
After that encounter, Riven couldn't stop thinking about Kael and the challenge that hung in the air. The fight within him—his past, his rage, and the person he used to be—roared to life once more. He spent the rest of the day distracted, his mind racing. His boss, Mr. Han, once again noticed his unusual behavior.
"You sure you're alright, kid?" Mr. Han asked as they cleaned up the restaurant at the end of the night. "You're different these days. Something's on your mind."
Riven didn't want to explain. How could he? How could he tell Mr. Han that someone from his past was pushing him to become someone he desperately wanted to forget?
"I'm fine," Riven muttered, his eyes avoiding his boss's gaze. "Just... tired."
But Mr. Han wasn't buying it. He studied Riven for a moment longer before nodding.
"Alright, kid. Just know I'm here if you need someone to talk to."
Riven didn't respond. He just finished cleaning up and left without saying another word.
That night, as he lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, Riven couldn't escape the thoughts of Kael and the taunting challenge. He could feel the old instincts stirring inside him—ready to fight, ready to rise to the occasion. But every part of him knew that giving in would be a step back, a reminder of the darkness he'd left behind.
He closed his eyes, and for the first time in years, the memories flooded him again, vivid and overwhelming. The arena—the heat, the sweat, the rush of the crowd, the taste of victory and defeat mingling together. His fists clenched as his mind replayed the images of opponents knocked down, blood staining the ring beneath his feet. He remembered the ring on his finger, the symbol of a life he had tried to leave behind.
He opened his hand, staring at his fist in the dim light. His knuckles were tight, his palm slick with sweat. His hand had seen so much violence in the past, but now it trembled with the weight of what might come next. He wanted to stay in control. He wanted to be the person he was now—the quiet, unassuming guy who tried to keep his head down and his past buried. But Kael's words echoed in his mind: The Hidden Fist can't stay hidden forever.
Riven sat up slowly, his gaze still fixed on his clenched fist. The beast was awakening again, clawing at the edges of his control. Kael was right—he couldn't keep it buried forever. He had to decide whether he would fight to keep it locked away or let it break free.
But no matter how hard he tried to push it away, he knew one thing for sure: Kael wasn't going to let this go. And neither was he.
The storm inside him grew stronger, and with it, the feeling that something—someone—was pushing him closer to the moment he had tried so hard to avoid.
And the Hidden Fist would awaken once more.