The Ascendant Mortal: Beyond Divine Boundaries

Aamir stood in the training arena, his desire to grow stronger burning in his chest. After discussing his wish to train with Dharam, the latter gave him a knowing smile.

"Let's see," Dharam said, stroking his bald head.

Before he could say anything further, a cheerful voice interrupted.

"Hi, Uncle Dharam!"

Aamir turned to see a familiar face walking toward them. It was Rekha—the girl he had met in the Library of Wisdom. Her sharp gaze fell on Aamir, and her expression immediately shifted from cheerful to furious.

"Oh, it's you, Rekha!" Dharam's face lit up with a big smile. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Uncle," Rekha replied. Then her eyes narrowed at Aamir. "Who's this? Oh, wait... I know you!"

Aamir tilted his head, confused.

"I'll spar with him!" Rekha said suddenly, her lips curling into an angry smile.

Dharam chuckled. "Well, Aamir, looks like we've found an opponent for you."

Rekha pointed at Aamir. "I'll teach you a lesson for disgracing me in the Library of Wisdom!"

"What?" Aamir looked puzzled. "Do we know each other?"

Rekha's face turned red with anger. "You… how dare you forget me after embarrassing me in front of everyone?"

Aamir scratched his head. "I didn't mean to…"

"No excuses! Let's fight!"

Dharam laughed heartily and clapped his hands. "Alright, let's settle this on the training stage. I'll be the referee."

Dharam raised his hand to signal the rules:

No weapons that could cause fatal injuries. Only blunt or training equipment allowed, unless agreed upon by both parties.

Adrenaline energy is permitted, but no external support items or enhancements.

Victory is declared if one fighter:

Knocks their opponent out of the ring.

Forces their opponent to surrender.

Renders their opponent unable to continue.

No attacks aimed to maim or cause permanent harm.

"Understood?" Dharam asked.

Both Rekha and Aamir nodded, their adrenaline energy beginning to rise.

Aamir noticed Rekha wasn't carrying a weapon.

"You're going to fight without a weapon?" he asked.

Rekha smirked. "Oh, yes. What's wrong with that?"

"Then I won't use my sword," Aamir replied.

Rekha's eyes flared with anger. "You think I'm weak because I'm unarmed?!"

Before Aamir could respond, Dharam signaled the start of the match. Both fighters channeled their adrenaline energy, their auras clashing with such intensity that students nearby felt chills.

Rekha's body radiated a fierce energy, and her movements were sharp and deliberate. Aamir, though stronger in raw power, was immediately on the defensive.

Their first clash sent a shockwave through the arena as their fists collided. Though Aamir's strength was greater, Rekha's polished hand-to-hand combat technique kept him on edge. Her moves were precise and relentless, her punches and kicks forcing Aamir to constantly adjust.

"She fights like a beast," Aamir muttered to himself, dodging a flurry of strikes.

But Rekha wasn't reckless. Every move she made was calculated. She dodged Aamir's counters with ease, landing sharp blows to his torso and legs.

Her adrenaline-enhanced technique pushed Aamir to the corner of the stage. Rekha leaped toward him, aiming to throw him off.

But just as she was about to strike, Aamir vanished.

"What?!" Rekha gasped, spinning around.

Before she could react, Aamir appeared behind her, his hand poised near her neck.

"You lose," he said calmly.

Dharam clapped. "The fight is over! Aamir wins!"

After the Fight

Rekha froze in shock. "How… how did you do that?!"

Dharam chuckled. "Ah, so you've mastered the Garuda's Glide, Aamir."

"Yes," Aamir replied with a nod.

"The Garuda's Glide?" Rekha said, stunned. "That's one of the hardest techniques to master! Most people don't even try!"

Aamir bowed slightly toward her. "Your fighting technique is incredible. If I hadn't used Garuda's Glide, I would've lost for sure."

Rekha's face softened, and a slight blush appeared on her cheeks. "Oh… well, you were impressive too. And… don't worry about what happened in the Library. I forgive you. I was the one who started taunting you anyway."

Curious, Aamir asked, "By the way, what's the name of the technique you were using? It was so refined."

"It's our family's technique—Asurakriya," Rekha said proudly.

"Asurakriya?" Aamir's curiosity deepened. "Doesn't that mean Technique of Demons?"

Rekha nodded. "Yes. The name fits its effect. When you use it, you fight like a demon. The longer the battle goes, the more your technique evolves, allowing you to overcome even opponents far stronger than you."

"That's incredible," Aamir said, genuinely impressed.

As they talked, something clicked in Aamir's mind. "Wait… how come you're calling Dharam 'Uncle'?"

Rekha laughed. "Because he is my uncle."

"What?!" Aamir turned to Dharam, shocked. "She's your niece?"

Dharam nodded with a grin. "She's my elder brother's second daughter."

After a moment of reflection, Aamir turned to Dharam. "Trainer, during the fight, I realized my hand-to-hand combat skills are terrible."

Dharam nodded, his face growing serious. "Now that you mention it, you're right. I noticed it too."

"Can you suggest a good technique for me to learn?" Aamir asked, determination burning in his eyes.

Dharam stroked his bald head thoughtfully. "Well, kid, there are many techniques, but I think you should try Hastraksham. It's considered a defensive technique, but it's actually the perfect combination of offense and defense when mastered fully."

"Hastraksham?" Aamir repeated, intrigued.

Dharam smiled. "Yes. It's not easy to master, but if anyone can do it, it's you. Once you learn it, you'll understand its true potential."

Aamir clenched his fists, his determination renewed. "Thank you. I'll master it."

Dharam gave him a proud nod, while Rekha watched, her anger now replaced with curiosity and admiration.

Aamir walked toward the library, his mind replaying the fight against Rekha. He visualized her movements—the sharp precision, the relentless strikes, and the unyielding energy of her Asurakriya.

In his thoughts, he imagined facing her again, dodging her attacks. But every time he tried, he failed. A punch to his chest. A kick to his legs. Over and over, he saw himself losing.

"Not good enough," he muttered, clenching his fists.

Each misstep fueled his determination to improve.

"I need to get stronger," Aamir whispered to himself, his eyes narrowing with resolve. "No matter what it takes, I'll push beyond my limits."

Arriving at the library, he quickly found a quiet corner surrounded by shelves of ancient books. His hand brushed against the worn spine of a book labeled *The Fundamentals of Hand-to-Hand Combat*. Opening it, he began to study the basic stances and movements.

But his thoughts kept drifting back to Rekha's technique. The way she adapted mid-fight and controlled the flow of the battle fascinated him.

"She said her technique evolves during combat," Aamir thought, flipping through the pages. "What if I try to learn the principles behind it?"

He jotted down notes, comparing what he read to what he had seen during the fight. Slowly, a plan began to form in his mind.

"First, I need to master the basics," he muttered. "Then I can think about adapting and evolving my style."

Hours passed as Aamir immersed himself in the study of combat techniques, occasionally standing to mimic the movements described in the texts. His failures from the mental sparring with Rekha only drove him harder.

"I'll turn my weaknesses into strengths," he vowed.

As the library grew quieter with the setting sun, Aamir closed the book and stepped outside. His body was tired, but his determination burned brighter than ever.

"I'll master *Hastraksham*," he said, his voice firm. "And one day, I'll be able to face Rekha again—not as someone who barely survived her strikes, but as her equal."

With that, Aamir returned to his dorm, ready to train relentlessly in the days to come.