Training

The very atmosphere of the gym is palpable with tension. Lysandra assumes a stance that, at first glance, looks formidable. However, as soon as she lunges forward with a wild swing, it's clear her "technique" is more of a toddler's tantrum than an actual fighter's stance.

She's fast, that's undeniable, but her moves are predictably unpredictable, if that makes sense. Like, I know she's going to do something idiotic, I just don't know which particular idiotic thing it's going to be.

Come on, think Kael, think! How do you train someone with zero technique? I barely dodge a haymaker punch aimed straight for my face, feeling the gust of wind it generates. Holy hell, if that connected…

Ilka's voice chimes in my ear, ever calm and composed. "Kael, remember to guide her movements. Let her energy flow, and then redirect."

I bob to the side, narrowly avoiding another wild swing. Easier said than done, Ilka.

"Why are you dodging?!" Lysandra growls, her frustration evident. "Fight back!"

"You think this is a joke?" I snap back, trying to calm my racing heart. "I'm trying not to get flattened by your... 'technique', if you can even call it that."

As she launches another attack, Ilka advises, "Shift to your left and pull her arm."

Following her direction, I step aside, grabbing Lysandra's outstretched arm and using her momentum to pull her off balance. It's a classic move, redirecting her energy, but given her raw strength, it feels like trying to divert a freight train.

Lysandra stumbles but quickly regains her balance, shooting me a glare. "What the hell was that?"

"That, dear lizard," I grin, "was a basic redirection technique."

She snorts, rolling her eyes. "Looks like a coward's way of fighting."

"Or," I counter, smirking, "it's a smart person's way of not getting their face smashed in. Tomato, to-mah-to."

"You little—"

"Enough!" I cut her off. "Try to focus. I want you to actually think before you throw a punch. It's not about overpowering me. It's about outsmarting me."

Lysandra looks like she's about to argue but then seems to reconsider. There's a glint in her eyes, a spark of determination. Hmmm, I like that she hasn't used any magic yet. 

As she readies herself for another go, Ilka whispers, "Kael, push her to think, to strategize. Let's see if there's more to her than just brawn. Heheheh, I've never trained a dragon, this should be fun~"

Nodding slightly, I brace myself, ready to dance this chaotic dance once more. With every dodge, parry, and redirection, I can see Lysandra's gears turning. It's like watching a caveman discover fire. Fascinating and slightly terrifying. This is... fun, I think? I never thought training Lysandra would be this interesting. 

The gym's atmosphere shifts from tension to action as Lysandra launches into a series of aggressive lunges. Her fists come flying at me with the force of a battering ram, each one threatening to obliterate whatever it makes contact with. Yet, her predictability is her undoing.

Every time she charges, her shoulder drops a fraction of a second before her fist flies. It's a tell, one I capitalize on.

"Watch your shoulders, Lysandra," I advise, dodging a particularly fast right hook. "They're giving you away."

She doesn't respond but instead tries to kick, her foot aiming straight for my chest. I sidestep, catching her foot and twisting it slightly, off-balancing her.

"Your kicks are powerful, but they're broad," I comment, pushing her foot down and making her stagger. "Try to focus on precision over power."

She regains her balance, her nostrils flaring with irritation. Without a word, she throws another punch, this time mixing it with a low kick. But her frustration is making her attacks more frenzied and less coordinated.

"You're telegraphing your moves," I remark, blocking a punch and redirecting her ensuing elbow strike. "Every breath, every twitch of your muscle is screaming your intentions."

"Goddamn it, V!" She exclaims, her face reddening. In a fit of pique, she throws a series of rapid-fire punches, trying to overwhelm me with sheer volume. But as her speed increases, her accuracy diminishes.

With a deep exhale, I deftly sidestep, parry, and redirect each attack, making her stumble, overreach, and overcommit. Each time she's off-balance, I offer another tidbit, "Balance is key. Without it, strength is useless." Hahaha, this feels amazing. Ilka said all that shit to me when she saw me train. It feels good not being on the receiving end. 

Her frustration builds with each thwarted attack, her moves becoming wilder, more desperate. It's a self-defeating cycle. She attacks in anger, I counter, and she grows angrier. Oh shit, if this continues she's going to start breaking the gym apart again. Ayla will definitely be mad if that happens again. 

I sigh deeply, watching the fire in Lysandra's eyes grow more intense, her frustration building to explosive levels. Before she can completely lose control and transform this gym into rubble, I decide to change my approach.

"If you actually focus today and train properly," I start, trying to appeal to her more primal instincts, "I'll cook you something really spicy tonight." I pause, searching for the right incentive, and then I add, "I'll also... give you some fire."

She grits her teeth, determination replacing the wild frustration from earlier. "Deal. But if you go back on it, I swear, V, I'll—"

"You'll what? Burn the academy down?" I interrupt with a smirk. Hahaha, this crazy fucker would definitely try. 

She narrows her eyes but doesn't reply. Instead, she lunges again, but this time her movements are more controlled, more deliberate. It's still a far cry from actual technique, but at least she's trying.

As we spar, Ilka constantly whispers advice in my ear, guiding me on how to correct Lysandra's stance, timing, and focus. "Move her arm a little higher," she instructs. "Her balance is off. Adjust her leg position."

After a while, I grab one of the enhanced wooden dummies from the corner. "Punch this," I instruct.

Lysandra, without hesitation, throws a punch. I quickly grab her arm, adjusting her posture and positioning. "No, like this," I say, guiding her fist in a straight line, correcting her shoulder positioning and teaching her how to twist her hips for added power.

We continue this dance of correction and repetition, with Lysandra's attacks slowly improving in form, if not in finesse. Finally, after what feels like hours, she groans in exasperation and flops onto the ground.

"I'm done," she declares, not out of exhaustion, but clearly out of sheer annoyance. She sprawls on the floor, staring at the ceiling, her chest heaving slightly.

Rolling my eyes, I lean over her, offering a hand. "Come on, lazy lizard, up you get." 

★  ★  ★  ★  ★

Aira, Lyria, and Isabella sat in an ornate room filled with plush seats and a sprawling wooden table. A set of large windows let in a gentle breeze, causing the sheer drapes to flutter softly. Atop the table lay an intricate-looking crystal, its center pulsating with a soft blue light, projecting an image of the gym with V and Lysandra. This was their hidden window to the gym, allowing them an unobstructed view of the training session.

Taking a sip from her porcelain cup, Aira watched intently as V maneuvered Lysandra, guiding her through various combat drills. Her smile was mischievous, enjoying the spectacle of their interactions. "So Lyria," she began, glancing sideways, "What do you think so far?"

Lyria leaned forward slightly, her eyebrows furrowing in thought. She rubbed her chin, her analytical gaze never wavering from the crystal. "I'm not sure... he seems to have a complete understanding of all the basics, however, he hasn't shown any actual technique." Her inner thoughts revealed more concern, 'His understanding of movements and muscle shifts seems to be perfect. But why is he ignoring her footwork? One of her major flaws and he's just... letting it slide?'

Beside them, Isabella seemed less impressed. Opening an ornate book bound with gold engravings, she clicked her tongue in disdain. Taking a sip of her tea, she uttered, "Anyone can easily learn the basics. He should stop that pathetic training and focus on magic." She flipped a page, her expression revealing a slight frustration, 'He understood the hieroglyphics in the ruin. Only those well-versed in the intricate magic circles could decipher that.' She internally sighed, 'Barbarians will always be barbarians unless they have someone smarter guiding them.'

Aira's smile grew wider as she picked up on Isabella's underlying frustration. With a playful tone, she teased, "Do you want him that badly? I can get you a stronger, noble, pureblood servant if you leave him to me."

Isabella shut her book with a soft thud, her piercing gaze meeting Aira's playful one. "Aira, I support you in becoming the next ruler, but this barbarian will be more useful under my care. He's already demonstrated a profound understanding of magic. If you want him, you need to offer me something... substantial."

Aira's smile was enigmatic, as if she held a secret none could fathom. Humming softly, she tilted her head and said, "Alright, alright. No need to get mad. Even if I want him, he seems to understand what's happening around him." She took a moment to sip her tea, the aromatic steam curling up in the cool air. Leaning back, her expression turned contemplative, "The fight for the throne isn't a hidden topic. Though we playfully dance around it, V grasped its depth rather quickly. He'll try anything to stay out of it." Internally, Aira pondered, 'Oh V, if it were that simple. The moment you set foot in Class A, you were destined to pick a side, whether you like it or not, just like the rest of them.'

Lyria, eyebrows raised in surprise, mused, "Is he truly a hidden talent? He just doesn't seem like it... plus, he's not exactly a sight for sore eyes." She seemed genuinely baffled, 'Why are they so focused on this man? Surely, someone like Isadora is of greater significance?'

Aira chuckled lightly, her eyes twinkling with amusement, "You're not wrong; he isn't exactly what one would call handsome." She retrieved her personal notes and slid them across the table to Lyria. "But there's more to him than meets the eye. His potential rivals ours. Isadora, as you know, is reserved, always keeping to herself. No matter what offer I extend, she gracefully declines. Yet V, with nothing more than a meal, not only befriended her but inadvertently bridged a connection between Isadora and Biana."

Lyria perused the notes, her eyes widening with every line. "I see... So you're aiming to secure Isadora and Biana's loyalty through him?" She pondered, 'That's a clever strategy. If he does indeed form a deep bond with them, it could work to our advantage.'

Isabella, ever the pragmatist, chimed in, "Securing Isadora would be a mere bonus. She's unlikely to choose any side, irrespective of V's decision."

Lyria looked skeptical, "Is he really worth all this effort?" 

Aira's grin was nothing short of predatory, "If we don't try, Liam might snag him first. That's something I cannot, and will not, allow."

Isabella smirked, her lips curling in a sly, confident smile, "Don't fret. It won't be long before he's right where I want him." Her inner thoughts echoed her determination, 'I'll ensure V loses his little bet. One way or another, he'll be mine.'

Aira smiled sweetly, her gaze soft yet calculating. "Lyria, why not give him a try yourself? You might stumble upon something intriguing. He knows nothing about you; he won't suspect a thing." Her thoughts swirled, considering the various outcomes, 'If Lyria can gain his trust, she might slowly sway him to our side. I trust Isabella's judgment, but forced loyalty has its limits.'

Lyria, reluctantly conceding to Aira's persistent interest in V, acquiesced, "Since it seems like you won't budge on this matter, I'll amuse myself with him for a bit. But what about the girl he's training with? She seems to have an abnormal amount of strength and speed, yet her technique is nonexistent."

At the mention of Lysandra, both Aira and Isabella sighed, their expressions revealing a mix of annoyance and concern. Aira clicked her tongue, voicing their shared frustration, "We have no concrete information on her; she's an enigma, much like V. It's aggravating; their backgrounds are undoubtedly fabricated, but we've found no inconsistencies to exploit. Lysandra is constantly under V's watchful eye; we haven't found an opportunity to approach her."

Lyria's eyebrows arched in genuine alarm, "Isn't this risky? If their identities are indeed fabricated, should we not tread more cautiously? What if he is a spy sent to infiltrate us?"

Aira waved off her concerns, her confidence unwavering, "No, there's no need for concern. I've already confirmed that V is merely using a false identity due to his outsider status. As for Lysandra... Rest assured, she poses no threat, at least for now."