Learning

WHOOOOSH

Talon ducked just in time as a roaring fireball scorched past him, searing the air with intense heat. He threw himself behind a jagged rock, his chest heaving as the fireball detonated against a tree behind him.

BOOM

Splinters of charred wood rained down, smoke curling upward in the simulated forest arena. The sharp tang of burning sap filled his nose as Leon's voice crackled in his ear, clear and commanding.

"Come on, Cadet! You're a Spear! How do you plan to close the distance?!"

Talon clenched his jaw, peeking over the edge of his cover. He could see his opponent, Orlen, an uncommon flame user, standing confidently across the field. Orlen's hands glowed with a fiery aura, another fireball already forming in his palm.

'How?' Talon thought, his mind racing. He wasn't just fighting Orlen; he was fighting the limitations of his own abilities.

BOOM

Another explosion ripped through the air as Orlen hurled another fireball, forcing Talon to leap away. He vaulted into a nearby tree, using its thick branches as cover. His foot pushed off the bark with a sharp crack, propelling him toward another rock as the flames obliterated his previous hiding spot.

Flames and debris filled the air as Talon darted from cover to cover, constantly moving, his opponent keeping up relentless pressure.

"I see you, Graves!" Orlen called out, his voice dripping with confidence. Another fireball flared to life in his hand. "Come out and burn already!"

Talon gritted his teeth. He might've been twice as strong and fast as anyone else here, but none of that mattered if he couldn't get close. His opponent's power kept him pinned, forcing him into a game of survival rather than offense.

But then, an idea began to take shape in his mind.

'Twelve fireballs so far,' he counted silently. Orlen's flames burned bright, but Supers at the early soldier rank had limits. Energy reserves were precious, and his opponent was burning through his too quickly.

Talon pressed his back against a boulder, catching his breath. His mind worked fast, calculating his chances. He stole a quick glance over the edge, noting the sweat dripping down Orlen's brow, the slight hitch in his breathing.

'He's tired.'

His heart pounded. This was his opening.

Go!

Talon shot out from his cover like a bullet, zigzagging between the trees. Another fireball blazed past him, the heat grazing his cheek as he leapt to a higher branch. He used the momentum to springboard off, launching himself directly at Orlen.

Orlen's eyes widened in surprise. Talon was fast, way faster than anyone he'd fought before.

In a heartbeat, Talon closed the gap, his blade gleaming as it arced toward his opponent's neck.

'I've got you now.'

However, Orlen smirked. The fatigue vanished from his face in an instant, replaced by sharp, calculated confidence.

"I've won."

BOOM

A wall of flames erupted around Orlen, engulfing Talon mid-air. Agonizing heat tore through him as the inferno consumed his body. His sword, mere inches from Orlen's neck, slipped from his grasp as everything went black.

--YOU DIED--

Talon gasped as he woke outside the arena back on the grassy plateau, his body drenched in sweat. He sat up, blinking against the bright blue sky. Across from him, Orlen materialized, looking equally drained but victorious.

"Good fight," Orlen said, offering a hand to help him up. "You nearly had me that time."

Talon accepted the hand with a wry smile, pulling himself to his feet. "Yeah, yeah. Honestly, well played faking the fatigue. I completely fell for it."

Orlen chuckled, shaking his head. "It's a good trick. You'll get me next time."

Talon nodded, watching as Orlen walked away. Around them, other cadets trained in their own simulated matches, their powers creating bursts of energy, frost, and lightning across the arena.

It was the first day of intense sparring, and Talon had spent most of his time going up against Controllers, long-range fighters like Orlen.

He was a close-range specialist, and these battles were a brutal but necessary learning curve.

Seven out of ten fights ended in his defeat, and he hated it.

Talon knew he was strong. Against common-ranked opponents, most of whom had stat-enhancing abilities similar to his own, but far weaker, he won with ease.

But for training purposes, his abilities were capped to match his opponent's level in those king of close encounter brawls, ensuring he got the neccasary expirience.

Unfortunately, that left him at a disadvantage. Raw power wasn't enough when it came to martial skill, and he just wasn't as good as most others in combat right now.

Each defeat, however, was a lesson. He was beginning to learn when to press the attack, when to bait his opponent, and when to conserve his strength.

He felt himself improve for the first time in years, it was slow, but he was happy.

As frustrating as the losses were, he knew this training was necessary. Everyone here was learning, adapting to their powers, and pushing their limits.

'One day,' Talon thought as he sat on the edge of the arena, catching his breath, 'I'll be the one they can't beat.'

He glanced back at the scorched battlefield, the remnants of Orlen's fiery victory still vivid in his mind.

He could have won, but he just can't seem to close the distance efficiently enough.

He wanted to learn.

The next fight couldn't come soon enough.

For now, though, he decided to take a walk around. The sim today featured a variety of environments designed to test the cadets' adaptability. Each match took place in a unique setting: open water, desert wastelands, dense forests, or sprawling urban landscapes.

Talon excelled in urban arenas. The cover provided by buildings made it easier for him to close the distance and dominate in close quarters. But in forests or open plateaus against long-range fighters?

Yeah, he didn't stand a chance, not yet.

And that was exactly why he had been assigned to train in those environments.

Yeah, he would lose, and that's the point.

"Graves, you're up next. You're fighting a Bruiser in a dreadnought," came the call. 

Talon's lips curved into a confident smile. Bruisers? He was good at dealing with those. They wouldn't give him trouble. 

This time, he'd make sure he'd win.

Sure, he loved improving, but there was one thing he loved even more.

Winning.