Eli glanced toward the academy.
"A better student."
The reporter smiled.
"That's it?"
"That's enough."
The interview went viral.
Parents shared it.
Students repeated it.
Young fighters began asking Raymond about Eli.
But Eli remained the same.
He arrived early.
Cleaned the mats.
Helped beginners.
Trained quietly.
One afternoon, a small boy approached him.
"Are you the guy who beat three black belts?"
Eli laughed.
"They weren't really fighting me."
"What?"
"They were fighting their own egos."
The boy thought about that.
"Can you teach me?"
Eli smiled.
"Can you listen?"
The boy nodded.
"Then yes."
Eli showed him how to stand.
How to breathe.
How to fall safely.
How to get back up.
The same lesson his father had once taught him.
And the cycle continued.
Five years later, Marcus, Derek, and Noah were still training together.
But they were different men.
Marcus became an instructor.
Derek became a sports therapist.
Noah opened a youth program.
And Eli?
He became the youngest instructor Westbridge had ever appointed.
At twenty-one, he was already teaching children.
One evening, the four stood together after class.
Marcus smiled.
"Remember the first day?"
Eli laughed.
"You mean when you made fun of me?"
"I was stupid."
"Very."
Derek laughed.
Noah pointed at Eli.
"You told us to fight all three of us."
Eli nodded.
"You accepted."
"No."
Noah frowned.
"You did."
Eli smiled.
"You accepted because you thought I was weak."
Marcus shook his head.
"And now?"
Eli looked at them.
"Now you know better."
They laughed.
Raymond watched from across the gym.
He had spent decades teaching martial arts.
But his proudest moment wasn't a championship.