After a few long minutes, the gas finally stopped.
Nicolas deactivated the symbol and lowered his hand, breathing heavily.
Silence filled the room.
He sat there for a moment… then blinked.
"…Huh?"
The heaviness he'd grown used to—gone.
The dull ache in his joints—gone.
The constant fatigue lingering at the back of his mind—gone.
He felt light. Clear. Energized.
Like he'd just woken up after the best rest of his life.
"…Damn," Nicolas murmured, slowly flexing his fingers. "This feels better than a full-body massage."
He stood up, testing his balance. His body responded instantly, smoothly, without delay.
"Alright," he said with a satisfied nod. "That's one major problem solved."
"It's like the Divine Cleansing I read about in cultivation novels," he muttered.
Nicolas looked down at his hands. Earlier, there had been bruises, small scars, signs of old fights and years of neglect. Now there was nothing. His skin was smooth, clean, and healthy, as if it had never been damaged at all.
He walked over to the wall and glanced at his reflection in the small mirror there.
For a moment, he just stared.
Earlier, his face had looked tired—dark circles under his eyes, dull hair, a worn-out look that came from a bad life. Now, it was completely different.
Sharp features. Clear black eyes. Smooth skin. Well-defined muscles.
His black hair looked healthier, his posture straighter, and his body had a naturally athletic, well-built shape—lean but strong, like someone who had trained properly for years.
"…I'm at least three times more handsome than before," Nicolas said flatly.
He tilted his head, examining himself from another angle.
"Did this give me some kind of warrior's body state?" he wondered.
Dhanvantari was a Hindu god of medicine and he is god from ancient times, and ancient warriors were built strong and balanced, not bulky—bodies optimized for endurance, agility, and survival.
"Maybe the symbol didn't just heal me," Nicolas murmured. "Maybe it optimized me to like those of Ancient days."
He clenched his fist, feeling the strength there—not exaggerated, not supernatural, just… perfect.
"Yeah," he nodded to himself. "I can work with this."
Nicolas quickly washed up. His clothes smelled off—probably residue from whatever impurities had been forced out of his body earlier. After a proper shower, he felt even lighter.
He changed into his training clothes and pulled on the shirt with the Mimicry symbol.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Let's see if this really works."
He opened his laptop and searched for martial arts training videos. After a few seconds, he clicked on a Taekwondo playlist—over thirty videos, each focused on a different kicking technique.
He opened the first video.
The instructor on screen demonstrated a basic front kick, breaking it down step by step—stance, balance, hip movement, snap, recovery.
Nicolas focused and activated the Mimicry symbol.
The moment the instructor moved, something clicked.
It wasn't just seeing the motion.
He felt it.
His body absorbed the movement—the balance, the timing, the muscle engagement. His legs felt warm, his hips loosened slightly, and his posture adjusted on its own.
Information flowed into his mind:
Proper stance alignment
Weight distribution
How much force to use
When to retract the leg
Even breathing rhythm synced naturally.
"…So that's how it's supposed to feel," Nicolas muttered.
He stood up and tried the kick once.
Perfect form.
No wobble. No stiffness. Clean motion, controlled and efficient—like he'd practiced it hundreds of times.
He tried again.
Same result.
Nicolas looked down at his legs, then back at the screen.
"This isn't just learning," he said quietly. "It's perfect copying."
"I feel like Taskmaster now," Nicolas muttered.
He removed the shirt and stood there, bare upper body, then kicked again.
Perfect.
No loss of balance. No hesitation. No flaw.
He tried again—same result.
The knowledge didn't fade. It stayed in his body and mind, solid and permanent—even after removing the shirt.
"Good," Nicolas nodded to himself.
He put the shirt back on and sat down in front of the laptop.
A small smile formed on his face.
"Alright," he said calmly. "Let's keep going."
He clicked on the second video.
Minutes turned into hours.
Taekwondo kicks. Transitions. Combinations. Footwork.
Then he switched styles.
Boxing—jabs, crosses, hooks, slips, head movement.
Muay Thai—elbows, knees, clinch control.
Judo—throws, grips, balance breaking.
Aikido—redirection, flow, joint control.
Every movement he watched engraved itself into his body. His muscles adjusted naturally, posture correcting itself without conscious effort. When he stood up to test something, his body responded exactly as it should.
By the time he stopped, the sky outside had darkened.
Nicolas closed the laptop and exhaled slowly.
"…This is broken," he muttered under his breath.
"I also forgot to go to Chikara Dojo," Nicolas sighed as he checked the time. "It's already seven."
He shook his head and went to wash up. His clothes were soaked with sweat from hours of copying movements, so he cleaned himself properly and changed into fresh clothes.
After that, he stopped by a nearby food place and bought several dishes.
"An apology gift," he said to himself.
Ten minutes later, he arrived at Chikara Dojo.
Knock. Knock.
After a moment, the door opened. Colleen stood there in casual clothes, no longer wearing her training outfit.
"I thought you left and weren't coming," she said.
"Sorry," Nicolas said, scratching the back of his head. "I relaxed for a bit and accidentally fell asleep."
She paused, looking at him more carefully.
He looked… different. Healthier.
Is this what he actually looks like? she wondered.
Nicolas handed her the food.
"An apology. I hope you'll still train me. I won't miss it next time."
Colleen glanced at the packed food and shook her head lightly.
"You didn't have to do this."
"No, take it," Nicolas said. "I bought it for you."
"That much?" she asked, amused.
"I thought you could eat some now and save the rest for later," he shrugged.
"Have you eaten?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No. I was going to, but I wanted to make sure you weren't angry first."
She sighed, then smiled a little.
"Then let's eat together."
"Really?" Nicolas asked.
"Yeah," she said. "Leaving food overnight just ruins it."
She stepped back into the dojo, and Nicolas followed her inside.
They sat down and ate quietly for a few minutes.
After finishing, Colleen stood up and picked up the dishes.
"Alright," she said. "Food accepted. Apology accepted."
"You can come back tomorrow at twelve."
Nicolas nodded. Before leaving, he helped her clean the dishes, then stepped toward the door.
"Thanks," he said. "See you tomorrow."
He waved lightly and left.
Colleen watched his back as he walked away down the hall.
"…Is he genuinely kind," she murmured to herself, "or just acting?"
After a moment, she shook her head, closed the door, and went to rest as well.