The morning sun penetrated across the training ground, christening the spacious area in golden light. The bustling of Sector 5 had simmered in the late afternoon, which left only a distant hum that was smothered by the thick stone walls that surrounded the Voltaire’s estate. Within the training ground, Warren stood face to face with his sister, their bodies both tense and in fighting position. Singed marks and cracks in the shape of fists and feet branded the ground they stood on. A battlefield that Warren endured for his entire life.

As early as Warren could remember, sparring was a daily occurrence with his sister, each and every time he would be knocked down, hurt and tormented. Warren had never enjoyed these sessions whenever they took place. For him, they were less about honing his skills and more about enduring his sister’s cruelty. Survival was his only dream.

Although Warren and Elektra were the same age at 17, Elektra had been born only a few months earlier. Those few months were just another card to flaunt her strength over him. However, when it came to sparring, the gulf in strength between the two siblings was not simply about age or experience. No. Warren knew as soon as he hit the floor against Elektra at the age of three.

She was simply stronger. She was better.

Elektra would use her deadly fighting grace, only fueled by her deep-seated contempt for Warren, to leave him bloodied and bruised. No one cared what happened to him. Why would they? In the Voltaire family, the only thing that matters is strength. For Warren that meant being his sister’s punching bag.

But today, something was different. Warren’s purpose today was more than just survival; He took a deep breath as he steadied himself against Elektra’s overwhelming presence. He knew he was taller than Elektra, yet she seemed colossal in his view. Amid his fear, the words of the captor down in the cellar, the boy named Sabir, rang in Warren’s mind. “Just try.”

When was the last time Warren had ever stood up to his sister? Warren knew deep down he had never even said a word back to Elektra. He just rolled over like a puppy and let her stomp on him. It felt as if it was only natural. He was the prey, and she was the predator. Today, he was going to change. A life was on the line. Warren needed to save him.

Elektra’s eyes gleamed with a cold, predatory light as she watched her brother, who trembled at her mere presence. It was a satisfactory response, considering her greatness, reveling in her brother’s fear. She analyzed him checking for any slight twitch of Warren’s muscles, calculating any weakness he may have. The fight hadn’t even begun, and yet she was confident of her victory.

“Ready, half-breed?” she taunted, the words dripping with disdain.

Warren didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he focused on his breathing, his heartbeat pounded against his chest like a storm. He knew better than to waste energy on her insults. Over the years, he’d learned even reacting to her provocations only made things worse. But today, Warren was determined to get his first win, a determination that he never had his entire life.

Mistaking his silence for fear, Elektra smirked as she decided she’d make the first move today. Closing the distance between them, her body moved with incredible speed. Before Warren could even blink, she was already on top of him, delivering a rapid succession of precise strikes with her fists. Although he managed to block the initial attacks, her speed and strength proved too much for him to handle.

Elektra struck a knee at Warren’s stomach, forcing the air from his lungs, and before he could even recover, she grabbed him by the waist and lifted him off the ground. Warren scrambled to try to get free, but he could not release Elektra’s tight grip on him.

Warren experienced a moment of time slowing down as déjà vu hit him. He had been in this position many times before, but it didn’t make the impact any less painful. Elektra flawlessly executed a suplex, sending Warren crashing onto the hard ground with bone-jarring force. Pain exploded through his body as he landed on his back, the wind knocked out of him. He gasped for breath, his vision swimming.

Elektra straightened and played a cruel smile on her lips as she looked down at her brother, who sprawled on the ground at her feet. “The half-breed is trying hard today,” she remarked with mock admiration. “It’s almost cute.”

Warren’s entire body ached, but he forced himself to sit up, propping himself on his elbows. He breathed raggedly, his chest rising and plummeting. Despite the pain, he managed a weak smile. “Let’s make this spar interesting sis, let’s add a wager,” he said, as his voice trembled.

Elektra raised an eyebrow, intrigued. This was new. Warren, out of fear, would never speak. His fear of getting hurt meant that she would only communicate with him through fists. Yet here he was today, asking for a wager. “A wager?” she repeated, her tone laced with curiosity. “And what exactly do you want, little brother?”

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Warren forced himself to push aside his fear. He had been thinking about this moment for days, ever since he had spoken to Sabir. He had replayed the exact words he needed to say, over and over to himself like it was a mantra. “I want ownership of Sabir,” he said, his voice gaining strength. “I know Noah placed you responsible for him. So let me have him.”

The smile on Elektra’s face faded, replaced by a look of mild annoyance. “Sabir?” she echoed, her tone dismissive. “I was ordered to kill him. He’s not going to stick around, and honestly, he’s only drawing breath for my entertainment.”

Why did her brother have to bring up that annoyance? She still hadn’t gotten over her bitter win against him in The Commons. Yes, she had won, but during that time, they traded blows. For the first time in her life, Elektra had felt fear from someone so inferior. She hated it to no end. There was no satisfaction in her victory, and her only consolation was that the boy was her prisoner.

Warren’s gaze hardened. He had expected as much, but hearing her say it out loud still sent a chill down his spine. Warren knew that if Elektra followed through on her orders, Sabir wouldn’t survive. He looked up at his sister, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and desperation. “Cynthia Quinn,” he said, the name slipping from his lips like a weapon.

Elektra’s eyes widened in shock. The reaction he had been hoping for. Her usually cold and composed demeanor cracked, just for a moment. “Why did you say that name?” she demanded, her voice edged with a rare hint of vulnerability.

Warren didn’t flinch. This was his chance, perhaps his only one, to get the answers he’d been seeking for years. “Where did she go all those years ago?” he asked, his voice steady. “And why isn’t Vincent around anymore?”

Elektra’s shock quickly turned to anger. She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head as if to dismiss his questions. “You really think a useless half-breed like you gets to find out what happens in the real family?” she sneered. The moment of weakness was gone, replaced by the familiar contempt. “Get back up so I can beat you down again.”

Warren could see his words had rattled that Elektra. The curiosity of what had truly conspired was temporarily on hold, as Elektra charged towards him once again. Once again, they collided, ensueing a battle between seamless elegance and brute force. Warren fought with everything he had, his mind racing as he tried to expect her moves. Yet Elektra’s strikes became more intense and rapid, but Warren forced himself to stay firm.

Elektra’s frustration grew as the fight dragged on. She was used to Warren folding quickly, used to him being nothing more than a punching bag. Yet, today, he exhibited a distinct shift in behavior. His strength, fueled by his unexplained resolve, caught her off guard. While exchanging blows, she taunted him with sharp and cutting words.

“You have a tall build, a strong body,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “But you have no will, no ferocity. You’re a disappointment, Warren.” Her words were like daggers, each one meant to wound, to break his spirit. “You get your feebleness from your mother,” she added, her tone cruel.

A seething anger bubbled within Warren at the mention of his mother. The heat and intensity surpassed anything he had felt before. His vision blurred with rage, and he felt something ignite within him, something raw and primal. His body crackled with energy, tiny sparks dancing across his skin. It was a power he had never controlled, a power that had always eluded him.

But now, in his fury, it came to him naturally. He moved with a speed that took Elektra by surprise, closing the distance between them in an instant. His fist connected with her jaw with a force that sent her flying backward, crashing into the ground with a thud. The shock of the impact reverberated through the courtyard, the sound echoing off the stone walls.

Elektra lay on the ground for a moment, stunned by the force of the blow. When she finally sat up, her eyes were wide with disbelief. She touched her jaw, feeling the heat from where his fist had connected, and then looked at Warren, who stood a few feet away, his body still sparking with energy.

For a moment, there was silence between them, the only sound the crackling of the electricity that surrounded Warren. Elektra’s surprise slowly morphed into something else—a mixture of anger and grudging respect. She got to her feet, her movements slow and deliberate as she dusted herself off.

“Even with the dirty blood inside of you,” she said, her voice steady but with an edge of anger, “the Voltaire blood runs deep.” There was a flicker of pride in her voice, though it was buried beneath layers of disdain.

Warren didn’t respond, his chest heaving as he tried to calm the storm raging inside him. He could feel the power coursing through his veins, a wild, untamed force that was both exhilarating and terrifying. His entire life since he awakened all he could muster were a few lousy sparks. Although the electricity that coursed through him was inferior to that of the rest of his family, he had made some progress.

But now, standing there with the remnants of that power crackling around him, he felt something he had never felt before: a sense of belonging, a connection to the Voltaire bloodline that ran through his veins. He was more than just a half-breed, his Esper powers proved it. A sense of bitterness came over Warren as he came to this realization.

Elektra narrowed her eyes, clearly annoyed by her momentary lapse in control. “Let’s change the rules,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “Let’s not hold anything back.” As she spoke, her own power manifested, electricity crackling along her arms, her body radiating with an aura of energy.

Tension filled the air as their powers crackled and hummed in the space that separated them. Warren’s chest throbbed with a pounding heart, yet he remained resolute. This was what he had been waiting for, a chance to prove himself, to show that he was more than just the sum of his bloodlines.

He clenched his fists and charged.