Broken Arts Collector

The four training stations were arranged in a perfect square formation, each one designed to target a specific weakness Master Ryu had identified. The crystalline formations above each station pulsed with different colored lights - blue for Min-woo, silver for Han-eul, gold for Dae-seong, and green for So-ra.

"Each of you will spend the next three hours at your designated station," Master Ryu announced, his voice echoing in the vast chamber. "These aren't just training exercises. They're surgical procedures to remove the cancer of your bad habits."

Min-woo's Ordeal: Harmony Resonance Method

Min-woo approached the blue station, where a complex array of energy-sensing crystals surrounded a meditation platform. The moment he stepped onto it, the crystals began resonating with his internal energy.

"Your task is simple," Master Ryu's voice came through a speaker. "Read and harmonize with the energy signatures of your teammates. Right now, they're simulated. Later, it will be real."

Three holographic projections materialized around him - energy patterns representing Han-eul's sharp precision, Dae-seong's steady flow, and So-ra's analytical complexity. Min-woo closed his eyes and reached out with his senses, trying to connect with these foreign energy signatures.

The moment he attempted to sync with Han-eul's projection, a stabbing pain shot through his head. The sword energy was too sharp, too uncompromising. He tried to soften his approach, but that only made Dae-seong's pattern reject him completely.

"A leader who can't synchronize with his team is worse than useless," Master Ryu's voice cut through his concentration. "He's a liability."

Sweat poured down Min-woo's face as he tried again and again. Each failure brought waves of mental exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm him. The Infinite One stirred within, offering power, but Min-woo gritted his teeth and rejected it. This had to be his own strength.

Han-eul's Struggle: Perfectionist's Nightmare

At the silver station, Han-eul faced a different kind of hell. Before him stood three training dummies, each moving in a different rhythm - one fast and erratic, one slow and steady, one completely unpredictable.

"Your sword techniques are flawless when you control the tempo," Master Ryu's voice explained. "But what happens when you don't get to choose?"

The exercise was simple in concept: strike all three dummies in perfect sequence, but match each one's individual rhythm rather than imposing his own. For someone who had spent years perfecting his personal tempo, it was psychological torture.

Strike! Miss. The erratic dummy moved just as Han-eul committed to his attack.

Strike! Miss. The slow dummy suddenly accelerated, throwing off his timing.

Strike! Miss. The unpredictable dummy simply defied all logic.

"Why should I have to match them?" Han-eul muttered through gritted teeth, his perfectionist nature rebelling against the concept. "My technique is superior!"

"Your arrogance is showing," Master Ryu's voice was merciless. "In team combat, the one who refuses to adapt is the first to die."

Dae-seong's Philosophical Crisis

The gold station presented Dae-seong with what appeared to be three meditation cushions arranged in a triangle. But the moment he settled into the first position, he felt his internal energy being... diverted.

"Your task is to maintain perfect internal energy circulation while simultaneously channeling power to support phantom teammates," Master Ryu explained. "Traditional internal cultivation focuses on personal perfection. Team support requires sacrifice."

Energy channels that Dae-seong had spent years perfecting were being forced to split and redirect. Instead of flowing in the pure, concentrated streams he was accustomed to, his power was being diluted and shared.

It felt like watching his life's work being torn apart.

"This goes against everything I've learned," he whispered, his voice tight with frustration. "Internal energy should flow pure and unbroken, not scattered like... like common street magic!"

"Pride is the enemy of progress," Master Ryu's voice was like a hammer blow. "Your 'pure' internal energy won't mean anything if your teammates are dead."

So-ra's System Overhaul

At the green station, So-ra stared at what looked like a three-dimensional chess board that kept changing its rules every few seconds. Pieces appeared and disappeared, gravity shifted directions, and the win conditions altered without warning.

"Your defensive algorithms are masterful," Master Ryu's voice carried a note of grudging respect. "But defense without adaptive offense is just elaborate suicide."

The challenge was to not just respond to the changing board, but to anticipate and create offensive opportunities within the chaos. Every time she thought she understood the pattern, it shifted again.

Her analytical mind, trained to catalog and categorize, was being forced to embrace uncertainty and improvisation. It was like asking a computer to paint with emotions.

"There's no logical framework for this!" she protested, her usual calm cracking as another solution proved inadequate. "How can I plan for variables that don't follow any consistent rules?"

"Real combat doesn't follow your spreadsheets," Master Ryu replied coldly. "Learn to fight the unknown, or become its victim."

The Weight of Reality

After two hours of relentless failure, all four teammates were approaching their breaking points. Min-woo's head throbbed from failed synchronization attempts. Han-eul's sword arm trembled from constantly adjusting his rhythm. Dae-seong's internal energy felt scattered and weak. So-ra's strategic confidence was in ruins.

Master Ryu's voice filled the chamber one final time: "This is just the beginning. You're not trying to improve what you already know - you're trying to become entirely different people. Fight it, and you'll break. Accept it, and you might survive what's coming."

The crystals above each station pulsed brighter, as if responding to their mounting desperation.