Six months had passed since the Battle Royale, and Alex had made remarkable progress with his calligraphy. In fact, he was now ready to finally begin attempting the Scroll of Steel.

To start, he was given a special inkstick made from Master ranked materials and infused with Steel type energy, along with a large sheet of especially porous yet resilient paper designed to absorb both the ink and its energy while preserving long-term durability. He even had a specially crafted brush to work with.

“I honestly thought I would have to somehow unlock Steel affinity for this,” Alex said as he practiced with the new brush. “Then I would write in tandem with that energy to lock it into the paper.”

“Are you daft?! That’d shred the paper apart with every stroke!” Mustard exclaimed. “And do you honestly think so highly of little old me, that I’d be able to unlock multiple affinities within my lifetime? I may be a Master, but even I would struggle to unlock even one more!”

“Makes sense. So how do I do this? It needs emotions at minimum, and since it isn’t type energy, it’ll be Aura then.”

“Correct! The key to writing with this inkstick is to first grind it with your Aura, infusing it into the dormant Steel type energy to wake it up!” Mustard said. “Then, as you brush, you weave your Aura along with each stroke, layering it with the emotion behind every word!”

He leaned in slightly, voice tightening with emphasis.

“But listen well, you must maintain absolute concentration while doing so. The slightest mistake, the smallest smudge, and your state of mind will collapse, causing the energy in the ink to go out of control!”

He leaned back, a faint smile settling on his face as he relaxed.

“That’s why I picked you for this, you know. Your ability to focus on a target is prodigious. You’ve got a well-cultivated Aura, even if it’s a bit on the small side. You’ve got real combat experience, and more importantly, a whole well of emotions to draw from. I’m confident you’ll be able to finish it… eventually.” Mustard said with a knowing grin.

“Welp, here I go,” Alex said as he knelt down and focused.

He calmed his thoughts, grasped his Aura, and began swirling it through his body, gathering as much of it as he could muster. Once the energy within him was circulating almost beyond his control, he guided it to the tip of his finger. He scraped it against the inkstick resting in the inkstone, shaving off small fragments into the water, then picked up the inkstick and ground it steadily against the surface.

When he was satisfied with the consistency, its color a deep bluish gray, he set the inkstick aside and began to churn the ink with his Aura until it slowly took on a metallic silver glow. He wiped his finger clean, picked up the brush, and dipped it into the inkstone.

Closing his eyes, he meditated on the words he would write, their meaning, the emotion he felt while facing a difficult opponent, and the struggle of perfecting what he had learned. Then he opened his eyes, his Aura flooding the room and spilling beyond its confines. In less than a second, he drew the phrase vertically across the paper, not a single drop of ink wasted and not a single stroke misplaced.

“Bend but do not break.”

The words glowed brightly before settling into a steady, dull silver sheen.

“Heh heh! Not bad for a first try,” Mustard said, crouching to inspect Alex’s work. “But it isn’t good enough yet. There’s not enough ink on the paper, the energy’s dull, and the strokes feel rushed and impatient. The words work, sure, but they don’t capture your heart. You’re holding yourself back.”

“So… more ink, more Aura, more intent, and I change the phrase?” Alex asked.

“That’s up to you!” Mustard said, nodding thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s got the perfect amount of ink, or maybe the energy is exactly as it should be. Perhaps the intent is meant to feel dull on purpose! That’s for you to decide, whether it’s perfect or still lacking.”

“I hate it when you do that,” Alex sighed as he picked up the brush and began to meditate.

“Ho ho ho, the benefits of being an old man!” Mustard said with a cheerful chuckle.

Alex tried again, using more ink, deepening his strokes, empowering his intent, adding more Aura, and infusing more emotion, and he even changed the phrase.

“What does not kill you makes you stronger.” 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

“Oh! I like that, but it doesn’t quite convey your fighting style. This fits Grass types a bit more closely. As for the rest, it’s a stark improvement, but I can still sense your hesitation. None of that matters though,” Mustard said slowly. “The question is, are you satisfied?”

Alex shook his head to clear his thoughts and took his time meditating before repeating the process. He worked on it for the whole day, suffering through a few distractions that ended with the paper turning to metal, and had to stop when he exhausted himself from overusing his Aura.

Unlike how he usually used it to stir his energy, infusing it into the ink took far more out of him than he had initially estimated. He didn’t usually use his Aura much, and he didn’t have much of it in the first place, so it only made sense that he wasn’t used to using so much of it in a single day.

“You’ve had enough tries that you’re starting to treat this as a routine rather than a serious attempt at writing your best work,” Mustard said after Alex’s latest attempt the next day. “You also have all the necessary tools to complete this, so from this point on, you must improve your intent and the emotion you want on display. So, new rule, you may only make an attempt once every hour. Getting some fresh air between attempts would do you some good.”

“Alright,” Alex said as he slowly placed the brush down and stood.

He walked out of the calligraphy room and made his way out of the dojo, and was greeted with the fresh sea breeze of the Isle of Armor. He may have stayed here for over seven months now, with occasional visits back home, but he had never actually taken the time to see the island. He had simply been stuck in the same monotonous routine of writing practice, wasting away in a room filled with a mountain of ink and paper.

He stretched his muscles, cracked his neck, and broke into a full sprint south toward the Fields of Honor. Once there, he stripped off his gi and dove into the waters of the Workout Sea, swimming outward as the cold water cooled his skin. He spent an hour in the open sea, occasionally startling random Water Pokémon with his Champion ranked aura before heading back for another attempt at the Scroll of Steel.

He failed as usual, so he stepped back outside and headed west toward the Loop Lagoon. He swam again, pushing farther until he reached the Stepping-Stone Sea, then turned back for another attempt, only to fail once more. He repeated this process throughout the day, moving from one part of the island to another until, by afternoon, he reached the Challenge Road.

There, he spotted Kubfu doing his absolute best to defend against Raticate’s relentless attacks.

Since Clawitzer had been given free rein to train and roam the island, Raticate had to take it easy on Kubfu. Raticate was restricted from seriously injuring Kubfu, limiting his attacks to light taps or shallow scratches, and allowing Kubfu to use Rest between sessions. Even with those limits, it was obvious Kubfu was struggling.

To be fair, Raticate was using his Champion ranked speed to full effect, ensuring he wasn’t caught by a counterattack. It showed that Kubfu’s improvement over the past half year was quite impressive, since he was able to force Raticate to use more of his strength.

Alex didn’t approach and simply watched from a distance. He focused on Kubfu’s newly learned techniques and habits.

Kubfu still relied heavily on punches and kicks, but every now and then, Alex caught the subtle flex of his claws and the hunch of his back, hints that he was considering a grapple or a takedown. It showed that he had improved significantly in watching his opponent’s every move, anticipating attacks before they were even launched. With enough practice, he would be able to start capitalizing on his more flexible moveset and deal significant critical damage.

Whether Kubfu had truly learned mixed martial arts was harder to judge. The essence of the style was subjective, shaped by experience. One fighter might lean into striking, another into kicks or grappling. In the end, it didn’t matter which techniques dominated, only whether they achieved victory.

It might have seemed disingenuous, but it was simply practical. Any competent fighter would favor what worked best in the moment. It was about using everything available to win, to fend off an opponent, and to protect what mattered.

Alex suddenly had a spark of inspiration from that outlook. His fighting style was ultimately just a tool. It was winning that mattered to him, the rush he got from high-stakes fights. It was the reason he was a battle junkie who leapt into danger headfirst, not because he needed to demonstrate his mixed martial arts specifically.

“If it’s a tool, what kind of tool is it?” Alex pondered as he made his way back to the dojo.

Ignoring Mustard, who was playing video games again, Alex entered the calligraphy room, knelt in front of the large sheet of paper, and continued to think. He prepared the ink with his Aura and dipped the brush into the inkstone, his mind focused on the words he wanted to write, the intent behind them, and the emotion that mattered.

The intent he used was one of absolute concentration while observing his opponent, a cold, calculating gaze that didn’t let a single detail slip. The emotion he dug deep for was imminent victory, the kind that came at the verge of success, when the best path forward had already been found and only needed to be walked. At that point, in that moment, victory was already achieved. All he had to do was reach out and take it.

Alex opened his eyes and, unlike before, took his time as he wove his Aura, brushed the ink into the paper, and focused on the present with absolute control. His strokes were sharp and deadly, yet careful and deliberate, filled with contained excitement that was about to explode and an itch in his soul that needed to be scratched. Before Alex could even notice, he had finished his work.

“A strong blade has a flexible core and a tempered edge.”

It was written with sharp lines, long curves, and an intentional finish. It was a piece of calligraphy he could stake his pride in.

Slowly, as Alex lifted his brush and released control over his Aura, the letters gleamed like cold steel, the silver glow radiating with an edge that threatened to kill with a single cut. It was intimidating even by Alex’s own standards, like a predator staring down its prey, needing only to pounce.

“Oh? Not bad, not bad at all. What do you think? Another attempt after this?” Mustard said from behind, having entered the room without Alex noticing.

“This is it,” Alex said, his voice filled with pride. “This is my Scroll of Steel.”

“Excellent, congratulations,” Mustard said with a genuine smile. “Now there’s just one thing left to do.”

“Wait for it to dry?”

“…”

“...”

“Well, there’s that, but also we need to test it and see if it works.”