Too Strong

Joe listened intently, the weight of Kayvaan's words pressing heavily on him. He couldn't argue with the logic.

The lessons didn't end there. Kayvaan dove into the darker aspects of their training: the art of extracting information. "Fingers," Kayvaan said matter-of-factly, holding up his hand. "They're one of the most sensitive and fragile parts of the human body. Breaking a finger can shatter a man's will. It's simple and effective. Now, come here and try it on me."

Joe didn't hesitate. The chance to hurt his captain, even in training, felt like sweet revenge for all the beatings he'd endured. He grabbed Kayvaan's hand and snapped a finger with a loud crack. The sound was oddly satisfying, and Joe felt a flicker of triumph—until Kayvaan punched him square in the face.

"No, no, no!" Kayvaan barked as Joe groaned, sprawled on the ground. "You're too quick. The enemy won't even feel the pain at that speed. You need to understand: we're not breaking fingers just to hurt someone insignificant. Behind enemy lines, we lack critical intel. The goal is to break their will, make them fear you. Pain is your tool. Now, get up and try again. Slowly this time. Make me feel it."

Joe got back on his feet, swallowing his frustration. He grabbed Kayvaan's hand again and applied pressure, slower this time, as instructed. "Better," Kayvaan said, grimacing slightly. "But you're still too rough. Torture is an art. It requires control and focus."

Kayvaan then moved on to psychological tactics. "Understanding your enemy's culture and customs can be invaluable. Of course, most of the Emperor's enemies won't live long enough for you to apply that knowledge, but it doesn't hurt to be prepared. Learn what you can about them, even if it feels like a waste of time. Knowledge is power, especially in our line of work."

And so, day and night, Joe trained under Kayvaan's relentless guidance. He learned to endure, to fight, and to adapt. With time, he mastered assassination, sabotage, interrogation, intimidation, and even demolitions. He trained in operating and maintaining nearly every type of Imperial power armor, from Mark IV Maximus Armor to Terminator Armor. By the end of it all, Joe felt confident that he could rival any legendary Imperial agent—or at least, outperform any holovid hero, considering none of them had piloted a Thunderhawk gunship.

Joe's combat prowess also grew exponentially. His steel claws moved like shadows, their cold gleam as dangerous as a predator's fangs. He could now spar with Kayvaan on equal footing, a testament to how far he'd come. The fighting style of the Raven Guard, lethal and efficient, flowed through him naturally—a blend of agility, stealth, and strength.

The first phase of his training was complete. But deep down, Joe knew this was only the beginning. From a tactical perspective, which Kayvaan valued most, Joe exceeded all expectations. Whether analyzing Imperial Tactica manuals or revisiting the battles Kayvaan had fought, Joe consistently offered fresh insights—ideas Kayvaan himself had never considered. What's more, he could articulate his thoughts clearly and logically.

"I've got to say, you've done well during this period," Kayvaan admitted, nodding in approval.

"This is all thanks to your excellent teaching, Captain," Joe replied modestly. "So, what's next?"

"Well, I don't know," Kayvaan admitted with a sigh. The one enemy he couldn't seem to defeat was back again—boredom.

"Why don't we start over?" Kayvaan suggested.

"Start over?" Joe looked puzzled.

"I said, let's start over. I'll teach, and you'll learn," Kayvaan clarified. "Of course, we'll skip the basics this time. We'll focus entirely on combat. You're still lacking in that area. If you want to inherit my name and this body, you'll need more than just strategy and clever ideas. Strength matters too. After all, I am Kayvaan Shrike."

Joe frowned slightly. "But I've already managed to hold my ground in our spars, haven't I?"

"Hold your ground? Against me?" Kayvaan scoffed. "You've got some nerve, kid. Do you really think you can stand toe-to-toe with a Space Marine Captain? Don't underestimate me. I'm a warrior forged in the Emperor's light, a servant of the Raven Guard, a battle-tested leader who's crushed enemies across countless war zones. The only reason you've done so well against me is because I've been holding back."

As he spoke, Kayvaan seemed to grow taller in Joe's eyes—his presence commanding, his tone more serious. Towering at over three meters tall in his full armor, Kayvaan's physique was monstrous yet majestic. "In our training sessions, I've been limiting myself, matching your height and strength so the fights would be somewhat fair," Kayvaan continued. "But now, in this second round of lessons, I'll be using my original strength and form."

Joe sighed, feeling a mix of helplessness and frustration. "Lord Shrike, are you trying to teach me, or are you just bored and taking it out on me?"

"At times like this, men shouldn't settle things with words," Kayvaan said, cracking his knuckles. "Let the battle speak for itself."

And so, the second round of lessons began. The instant the fight started, Joe felt like he'd regressed to that clueless boy from Terra who knew nothing about combat. Under Kayvaan's crushing attacks, he was reduced to a beginner, barely able to hold his ground for even a moment. Each encounter ended with him utterly defeated—slammed into walls, thrown to the ground, or torn apart in some other humiliating fashion.

But Kayvaan wasn't just focusing on combat this time. He'd also decided to involve himself in Joe's cultural education. At first, Kayvaan had been indifferent to Joe's studies, letting him roam the vast library to read whatever he fancied. That hands-off approach was now over. Kayvaan, seemingly struck with the joy of being a cultural guide, took it upon himself to start actively teaching Joe.

First on the list was language. Thankfully, most of the Imperium used Low Gothic, a common language descended from ancient Terran tongues. Its pronunciation and conversational tone made it relatively straightforward for Joe to pick up. Relatively.

For Joe, however, language learning was a nightmare. Back on Terra, English classes in school had been his worst subject. Now, in this strange new galaxy, he was forced to start over again. Still, complaints didn't change the reality—he had to learn.

After Low Gothic came High Gothic—a rigid, aristocratic tongue used for formal and religious purposes. It was complex and exhausting, pushing Joe's limits even further. By the time he'd made some progress with the languages, his combat training was still abysmally one-sided. Facing Kayvaan in his true form was like trying to fight a mountain. No matter how much effort Joe put in, he was always completely overpowered.

"I don't get it," Joe finally said after being "killed" for what felt like the hundredth time. "I've tried everything I can think of, but there's just no way to beat you. Your strength, speed, and reactions are all leagues above mine. All the techniques you've taught me are about risking everything to take down the enemy before they take you down. How am I supposed to win like this?"