"You can ask around Hell's Kitchen," Nicolas replied calmly. "Though I think it's safer for me to stay out of sight for now."
He nodded slightly, waiting for her response.
"Fine," she said after a moment. "I can train you. But if I'm acting as a personal trainer, it will cost you more."
Nicolas didn't hesitate. Afraid she might change her mind, he quickly pulled out a thick stack of bills.
"Here's the deposit," he said, handing it to her. "My place is small and not good for training, so I'll come here instead. When are you free?"
Colleen looked at the money, then at him. After a brief pause, she pocketed it.
"I'm free after twelve in the afternoon," she said. "You can come then."
Nicolas checked the time. It was only ten in the morning.
"Alright," he nodded. "See you later, then."
He turned and left the dojo.
Colleen watched his back for a few seconds before shaking her head and returning to her students, resuming the lesson as if nothing had happened.
Nicolas returned to his rented room and locked the door behind him.
He sat at the small desk, took out his phone, and opened his laptop. If he was going to train seriously, then he needed to use his power the right way.
His ability wasn't about random drawings.
He could draw meaningful symbols—symbols that carried intent—and bestow the power of those symbols onto objects… or even onto a person's body.
"Let's see if there is an symbol that can help me with learning Martial arts." he muttered.
He began searching online, not for flashy martial arts logos, but for conceptual symbols tied to learning and mastery. Ancient diagrams, philosophical markings, training crests, calligraphy symbols, and old martial teachings.
Karate manuals. Kung Fu scrolls. Boxing training charts. Judo principles. Aikido flow diagrams.
As he compared them, a pattern became clear.
The best fighters didn't rely on raw strength. They relied on fast reflexes, muscle memory, awareness, and efficient movement.
"What I need," Nicolas mumbled scrolling through them, "is a learning symbol."
After more searching, he narrowed it down to a few core ideas shared across almost every discipline:
Absorption of knowledge
Repetition without waste
Body–mind synchronization
Continuous improvement
He took out a plain training shirt from his inventory and spread it flat on the bed. And begun to draw ,soon he was done as he looked at the shirt with Yin and Yang logo.
"Okay, System. Appraisal," he said.
[ Yin and Yang Shirt ]
[ Effect: Allows the wearer to effectively use an opponent's force against them. ]
[ Description: While wearing this shirt, the Host can absorb heavy physical impacts and return the stored force back to the attacker. ]
Nicolas let out a slow sigh.
"This isn't what I want," he muttered.
It was powerful, sure—but it was combat-oriented. Reactive. About fighting others.
Right now, that wasn't his goal.
He folded the shirt neatly and placed it back into his inventory.
Then he took out another plain shirt and spread it out on the bed.
"This time," Nicolas said quietly, "I need something for learning. Not fighting."
He picked up the pen again, focusing his mind as he began to draw a new symbol, carefully shaping each line with intent.
He finished the symbol and leaned back.
"System. Appraisal."
[ Kendo Kanji Shirt ]
[ Effect: Grants the wearer high-level mastery of Kendo techniques. ]
[ Description: While worn, the Host gains instinctive understanding of Kendo forms, footwork, and strikes. ]
Nicolas frowned.
"…Not this either."
It was strong. Too strong.
This wasn't training—it was shortcut mastery. If he relied on this, he wouldn't truly learn anything. The moment he took it off, the gap would show.
"I don't want combat power," he said quietly. "I want growth."
He put the shirt into his inventory and took out another one.
Again and again, he tried different symbols—ancient martial seals, warrior crests, training diagrams, discipline marks.
Each time, the result was the same.
Power.
Skill.
Instant mastery.
None of it was what he wanted.
Finally, he stopped.
"…I'm thinking about this wrong," Nicolas muttered.
He took out the last plain shirt and held the pen still, calming his thoughts.
"I don't need a symbol that gives me skill," he said slowly.
"I need one that lets me learn."
With that intent clear in his mind, he began to draw again.
This time, the symbol was simple.
A Mimicry symbol—a mark representing observation, imitation, and internalization.
Once finished, he activated the system.
"Appraisal."
[ Mimicry Training Shirt ]
[ Effect: Allows the wearer to perfectly observe, copy, and internalize physical techniques through sight alone. ]
[ Description: Any movement, form, or technique witnessed while wearing this shirt will be recorded in the Host's body and mind. ]
[ Special: Learned techniques remain permanently, even after the shirt is removed. ]
Nicolas stared at the result for a few seconds.
Then he smiled.
"…This," he said softly, "is exactly what I need."
No shortcuts. No fake mastery.
Just accelerated learning—though this one is cheat too but atleast it will remain even after he remove this shirt.
He folded the shirt carefully and placed it beside his training clothes.
"Now," Nicolas said, lying back on the bed, "training will actually mean something."
A second later, he sat up abruptly as another thought hit him.
"…Right. This body."
He frowned slightly.
The original Nicolas had abused drugs for years. Even if he felt fine most of the time, that kind of damage didn't just disappear.
"I hope this works," he muttered. "The Amrit symbol is supposed to heal anything… if Dhanvantari's legend is true."
He slipped on his left glove and placed his palm flat against his chest.
Taking a slow breath, Nicolas activated the Elixir Pot symbol, pushing it to full power.
At once, a cool, soothing sensation spread through his body, like cold water washing through his veins.
Then—
Dark, foul-smelling black gas began seeping out from his skin.
Nicolas's eyes widened. He quickly pinched his nose with his free hand.
"Fuck… I might throw up at this rate," he muttered, forcing himself to stay still.
The sensation intensified. It wasn't painful, but it was deeply uncomfortable—like something rotten was being pulled out of him from the inside. His chest tightened, his stomach churned, and sweat beaded across his forehead.
The black gas continued to leak out, thinning little by little as his body was repaired from the inside out—organs cleansing, blood stabilizing, nerves repairing, damage undone at its root.
After a few long minutes, the gas finally stopped.