The Buster Technique. A trophy Alex pulled off Eddie after their fight — and honestly, one of the few spoils he didn't regret taking. The moment he read it, he knew the skill was dangerous. Useful. Exactly the kind of thing a smart fighter keeps tucked away.
The technique let a warrior twist their body and explode with sudden force. A turning burst. Quick, sharp, unnatural speed — almost like cheating physics. With the right timing, someone could close a short distance instantly. Dodge an attack that should've been impossible to escape. Or throw a strike that hit twice as hard as it should.
And the beauty of it? It barely cost qi. If you executed it cleanly, it drained almost nothing.
Eddie built it because of his condition — a condition that crippled normal qi movement and blocked him from learning traditional techniques. Most warriors would've folded under that kind of handicap. Eddie didn't. He rewired the rules for himself, and the clan had to respect that. Even Lucius had noticed, pulling him close and giving him a place most people never earned.
What the others didn't know was that Eddie also wrote the technique down. He studied it. Broke it apart. Built small "levels" into it so others in the clan could experiment and see who could use it.
Alex had been one of those readers.
Now he was one of the users.
So far, only one part of the Buster Technique had ever been learned — the sub-technique called Rocket Move.
It was the simplest piece of Eddie's whole system. A short burst. A quick release. A tiny qi blast that pushed the body forward faster than a normal step should allow. It didn't double an attack's power the way the deeper levels could, but it sharpened speed. It made a strike land before the enemy even realized what happened.
Alex had learned Rocket Move early on. And strangely, it was the only sub-technique he managed to grasp naturally, without needing his artificial qi to cheat the process.
Because of the conditions required to learn the Buster Technique — the same strange condition Eddie lived with — almost nobody in the clan could use it. The whole thing was practically abandoned.
Alex, however, had been trying to break that rule.
Trying to force himself into mastering techniques that weren't supposed to be compatible with him.
But whenever he used his artificial qi, the technique grew unstable. The qi output wobbled like a drunk engine, and his control slipped. One wrong move and the whole technique threatened to snap back on him.
And the Buster Technique wasn't forgiving.
If you used it wrong, the force you threw at someone else didn't just hurt them — it hurt you too. A punch boosted beyond your natural strength meant the opponent's jaw cracked… and so did your wrist, if you weren't prepared.
Eddie understood that problem better than anyone.
That was why, in the higher levels of the technique, he created counter-measures — methods to absorb the backlash and protect the user from their own explosive movements.
He had written precise solutions into the later sub-techniques. Ways to anchor the joints. Ways to Reflect the violent recoil. Ways to strike without destroying your own body.
But all of that stayed locked on paper.
No one in the clan had ever reached those stages.
Nobody had pushed beyond Rocket Move.
Nobody except Alex — and even his progress was shaky at best.
Alex had been grinding away at one goal for days now — using normal qi to power the Buster Skill. No shortcuts. No artificial qi. Just raw control.
And slowly, painfully, he was getting there.
Anyone in the base would've called it impossible if they heard it. The Buster Technique wasn't meant for someone with regular qi flow. Yet Alex was forcing his way into it, step by step.
But every bit of progress came at a price.
His activation speed dropped. His timing suffered. And sometimes the technique sputtered like a failing engine before finally kicking in.
So far, he had mastered the first pieces — the foundation and the second sub-technique, the one that protected his own body from the backlash. Without that part, every Buster movement risked cracking his joints clean through.
He could use the third sub-technique, but only with his artificial qi. His natural qi simply wasn't strong enough to stabilize the flow and keep the movements clean.
And then there was the last one.
The final sub-technique Eddie created before he died.
Alex hadn't even seen it listed in the clan archives. That meant Eddie never revealed it to anyone. It was too new, too advanced. Something he had barely finished writing down before everything went wrong.
The move was wild — a pulsing launch technique that sent the user shooting upward in bursts. Qi on, qi off. Push, pause, push, pause. Each pulse carried you higher, like climbing the air itself.
Alex hadn't learned it.
He couldn't.
That technique demanded a stage-four requirement: projectile qi. The skill needed a fighter who could fire qi outside their body like arrows or blasts, something Alex was nowhere near achieving… at least, not yet.
When Alex picked the Buster Technique earlier in the hall, he didn't do it out of curiosity or luck.
He chose it because everything else on the list was either something he already knew… or something he had zero interest in touching.
But the Buster Technique?
That one fit him.
It let him blend in. Hide in plain sight. Pretend he was just another Wyndhams warrior learning a strange, uncommon technique.
And beneath that disguise, Alex could keep sharpening a weapon no one else understood.
A weapon that, one day, would catch every single one of them off guard.
He already knew the Buster Skill. So if he chose it now, it meant one thing — in a few days, he'd be able to use it freely in front of everyone without raising a single eyebrow. No suspicion. No questions. Just another clan kid learning a strange, niche technique.
But Gavalich wasn't buying it.
To him, Alex picking this technique was a bad investment.
A waste of time.
Time Alex should spend learning something "useful," something he could grow on.
Gavalich folded his arms, shaking his head.
"Names don't matter," he said. "A fancy name doesn't make a technique strong, but—"
"Let the boy have what he wants."
The new voice cut through the hall, deep and steady.
Both Alex and Gavalich turned.
Lucius walked toward them, one arm gone, the other gripping a golden cane that shimmered faintly with its own soft glow. The air around him always felt heavier, like gravity bent a little closer to him out of respect.
Gavalich bowed instantly.
Alex did the same — he'd learned quickly that bowing wasn't optional here, especially not to a stage seven warrior.
"I'll take it from here," Lucius said.
Gavalich stepped aside without another word and left, leaving Alex alone with the clan head.
Lucius stopped in front of the technique wall, eyes drifting across the list before settling on Alex again.
"The technique you chose is a difficult one," Lucius said, voice calm but carrying weight.
"But it's possible to learn, right?" Alex asked.
Lucius gave a small nod.
"It is. It wouldn't be on that wall if no one had managed it before."
"I want to take it," Alex said.
Lucius didn't even blink. "Fine then. You'll have it. And you'll be given whatever tools you need to learn that technique."
Alex nodded once. A short moment passed before Gavalich returned, holding a small stack of scrolls in both hands. The Buster Technique—Eddie's work, wrapped in old paper.
Alex accepted the scrolls calmly.
Inside, he didn't need them anymore.
But he still had to play along.
He bowed slightly, tucked the scrolls under his arm, and walked out of the hall, leaving Lucius and Gavalich behind.
The moment Alex disappeared around the corner, Gavalich turned to Lucius.
"Master… are you truly planning to let him learn that technique? That will be impossible for him."
Lucius's lips lifted into a small, knowing smile.
"The boy is unique. His qi is… different," Lucius said.
"He might be able to pull it off."
He tapped his golden cane once on the floor, the sound echoing through the empty hall.
"And if he does," Lucius continued, voice lowering, "I plan to use him to win the next Paragon Battle Royal."
Gavalich froze.
His eyes went wide—not out of excitement, but fear.
He understood exactly what that meant.
And from his view… it was dangerous.
Too dangerous.