The training yard at Death Weapon Meister Academy buzzed with students practicing strikes and transformations. Off to the side, Justin Law stood with his headphones on, completely absorbed in the music blasting through them. His foot tapped against the stone ground, matching a rhythm only he could hear.

The signal for practice sounded.

Justin didn’t explain anything. Instead, he simply pointed forward toward the line of training dummies. The music in his headphones grew louder as he rolled his shoulders and tightened his grip, eyes narrowing with sudden focus.

The first beat dropped.

Justin lunged forward immediately. The sudden movement forced the weapon transformation, the chain snapping outward as he swung it in a sharp arc. The timing looked strange at first—every strike landing exactly when the beat in his ears hit hardest.

Another beat.

Another strike.

Each swing followed the rhythm perfectly, the chain cutting through the air like it was dancing to the music itself. The pace grew faster as Justin moved, spinning and ducking while the dummies shattered one by one.

Nearby students stopped to stare.

To them it looked chaotic. But Justin’s movements never missed the rhythm. Every attack landed exactly where it needed to, as if the music was guiding both of you at once.

The song ended.

Justin slowly straightened, the broken dummies scattered across the yard. He lifted one side of his headphones and glanced down at the weapon in his hand.

A crooked grin appeared.

“Perfect timing.”