Kayvan Teaching

"Yes, something truly useful," Kayvaan replied. In an instant, a massive suit of jet-black Mark X power armor materialized over his body. From his fists, razor-sharp claws known as Raven's Talons extended, glinting ominously. "The most useful thing in a universe this dangerous is fighting."

Without another word, Kayvaan lunged at Joe. For someone so large, his speed was terrifying. Before Joe could even register what was happening, the steel claws had pierced his chest. A searing cold spread from the wound, quickly followed by a wave of suffocating weakness. Death's grip tightened around him. "Why...?" Joe gasped, his voice barely audible.

"Don't look at me like that," Kayvaan said casually, retracting his claws as if nothing had happened. "I was just saying hello. Didn't expect you to be this fragile, though. It's disappointing, especially considering the wealth of combat techniques buried in your memory. Anyway, get up."

The sensation of dying vanished as quickly as it had come. Joe scrambled to his feet, clutching his chest in disbelief. "I... I'm fine?"

"Of course, you are," Kayvaan said nonchalantly. "We're in a spiritual space. Your body isn't real here, so a blade can't actually harm you."

"But it felt so real!" Joe protested.

"The pain, the cold, the sense of death creeping closer," Kayvaan replied, shrugging. "Those weren't your feelings; they were mine. I shared one of my past experiences with you. Remember that sensation and learn to avoid it—because in reality, it won't end so nicely. That's what we're working toward."

"Wait," Joe asked, still shaken. "You've actually had your heart pierced before?"

"Yeah," Kayvaan said with a faint smirk. "It was during a brutal battle. If not for the surgery that gave me two hearts, I wouldn't have made it off that hellish world alive. Enough about me, though. Let's talk about you. You're alarmingly weak. Your reflexes, mental fortitude, and combat experience are all practically nonexistent. How is that even possible? I've seen incredible fighting techniques in your memories, and your world seems to pride itself on martial arts."

Joe coughed awkwardly. "Those... might be from some novels. Fictional stories. I'm more of a pacifist, honestly."

"That won't do," Kayvaan said firmly. "Pacifism is a luxury you can't afford. In this galaxy, peace is just the pause between wars. Luckily for you, we have plenty of time. I'll train you myself. From now on, you'll call me captain."

"What are you planning to—"

"Careful with your tone, apprentice," Kayvaan cut in.

Joe sighed. "Alright, captain. What are you planning to do?"

"You're too weak, and weakness has no value to the Imperium. If you want to replace me one day, I'll need to train you—teach you how to fight, survive, and serve the God-Emperor properly. You're lucky; not everyone gets to learn from me. Let's start with the basics: understanding our weapons."

The massive armor vanished from Kayvaan's body, replaced by a simpler, more ceremonial set of garb. Raising his hands, he revealed a pair of sleek, razor-sharp claws glinting menacingly under the light.

"These are Raven's Talons, a weapon crafted by Corax, Primarch of the Raven Guard," he explained, clicking the claws together. A sharp metallic screech echoed through the space, sending shivers down Joe's spine. "Sharp, deadly, and perfectly balanced for close-quarters combat. Nothing kills more efficiently. Now that you've seen them, let's move on to training."

In the consciousness space, there was no day or night, no concept of time. Kayvaan had initially tried to track it by sheer estimation, but he gave up once his calculations reached a thousand years. For both him and Joe, time had become irrelevant. They didn't need food or sleep, taking breaks only when exhaustion demanded it, then diving back into relentless training.

Joe's studies spanned every aspect of Imperial life. Kayvaan was determined to teach him everything: the Imperium's history, its language, its customs, and its culture. Like a sponge, Joe absorbed this vast trove of knowledge, finding solace in learning amidst the monotony.

But the cultural lessons were brief compared to the endless combat drills. Once Kayvaan deemed the academic portion sufficient, he poured his energy into honing Joe's fighting skills.

The training was merciless. Joe's body was torn apart countless times, yet he persisted. Over time, the once-ordinary man began to grow, both in skill and resolve, under the watchful eye of his captain.

At first, Kayvaan only taught Joe how to fight with the Raven's Talons. Under relentless and high-pressure training, Joe made significant progress. Gradually, he could withstand Kayvaan's attacks, though not without effort. "Very good," Kayvaan said, his tone laced with approval. "You've grasped the basics of using claws. Although you're slow to learn and, frankly, not very bright, it doesn't matter. We have plenty of time to fix that. Now comes my favorite part. This is still about claws, but what I'm about to teach you is entirely different from what you've learned so far. Pay close attention. These are my true martial arts."

"Wait," Joe interrupted, blinking. "Are you saying everything I've learned so far was just the basics?"

"Of course," Kayvaan replied without hesitation.

"..."

The days that followed were a blur of grueling battles and torturous lessons. Only then did Joe begin to grasp how truly formidable Kayvaan was. As the training progressed, this realization deepened.

Kayvaan's fighting style defied simple explanation. It wasn't just a collection of techniques—it was an art form born of necessity and perfected on countless battlefields. His movements were precise, ferocious, and efficient, designed to kill with ruthless speed. As Kayvaan often said, "Crows don't waste time tearing open a chest when a single thrust to the heart will do."

His combat philosophy mirrored that idea. There were no wasted movements, no unnecessary flair. His attacks were swift and merciless, aimed directly at the enemy's vital points. These techniques, passed down from Corax himself, had been refined in the fires of unending war. Simple. Effective. Deadly.

Once the physical training sessions ended, Kayvaan introduced tactical training. "Combat literacy is often more important than combat skills," Kayvaan explained as they sparred. "Each Chapter of the Space Marines has its own traditions and methods of war. For the Raven Guard, our specialty lies in assassination, sabotage, and destruction. We excel at operations behind enemy lines. When the opportunity arises, we strike at the enemy's heart. Decapitation tactics are our bread and butter. There's no need for us to engage in drawn-out battles to prove our strength. Our job is to eliminate the enemy efficiently and vanish into the shadows."

Joe nodded, his sweat-drenched face reflecting his growing understanding.

Kayvaan continued, his voice steady and commanding. "This is why combat literacy is critical for a Raven Guard. You'll need to know when to strike with purpose and when to bide your time. When to create chaos and when to simply lurk in the shadows, letting your presence gnaw at the enemy's nerves. These decisions are yours to make as a leader, and they won't be easy. You'll often find yourself deep in enemy territory, surrounded on all sides. One wrong move could doom your entire mission. It's not just your life on the line—your decisions could shape the course of an entire campaign. Brothers will die because of your mistakes. That's why intelligence and careful judgment are non-negotiable."