Alix’s face reddened with anger as he tried to mask the embarrassment of his failure. His overconfidence was shattered, but instead of humility, it seemed to fuel his defiance. He tossed the wooden sword aside, letting it clatter loudly against the floor.

"Fine," he spat, crossing his arms over his chest. "Let’s see if you’re so tough without your sword. Hand-to-hand or guns, you pick."

I shook my head inwardly. This little guy is so stubborn. He must be in that rebellious stage, eh? Was I ever this rebellious when I was his age? I mused inwardly.

I rolled my eyes at him, "You are the student here. You pick."

Alix sneered, clearly thinking this was his chance to win against me. "Fine. Let's pick shooting then."

"Well, where's the range?" I asked, continuing to pressure him. I knew how to deal with people like him. I dealt with them when I was part-time mentoring younger students when I was in high school. The egotistical students who thought they knew everything and were too proud to admit they needed help. Alix reminded me of those kids, but with an added layer of entitlement that only wealth could bring.

"Follow me." He led the way, trying to regain his confidence. The shooting range was just next room. I sighed. This place is so fucking extravagant.

Alix strutted ahead, trying to project an air of nonchalance, but I could sense the frustration simmering just beneath his cocky exterior. He opened a sleek, automatic door that led us into the next room, revealing the private shooting range.

The moment I stepped inside, I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. The range was encased in polished glass, with holographic targets floating in mid-air, shifting and changing at random intervals to simulate unpredictable scenarios. The walls were lined with state-of-the-art firearms, each meticulously maintained and displayed like pieces of art in a gallery.

Everything looked so pristine and clean, that it looked to me like nobody had ever worked hard to master a skill in here. Alix walked over to one of the racks, picking up a pistol that looked super high-tech. It looked like a mix between a Desert Eagle and a 1911, which looked quite odd. It gleamed under the soft, ambient lighting, its design both elegant and deadly.

"Hope you're ready to lose," Alix smirked at me, reloading the gun with a smooth and practiced motion that was more that was more style than substance.

I didn't reply but I went up to the guns, feeling them up one by one. I found something I liked, which was labeled as Kiran Arms Enforcer—a sleek, compact handgun known for its reliability and power. The grip was textured, fitting perfectly in my hand, and the matte black finish was as unassuming as it was deadly. I nodded in satisfaction. This will do.

"Come on then, let's see what you've got. You talked the talk but can you walk the walk now?" I asked him.

He nodded and started to aim. I shook my head. His posture was so wrong. It was like he was asking to be hit in the head. With his posture, the recoil after every shot would ruin all his chances in a battle. He started shooting. Credit where credit is due, he hit every shot. But it took him over 10 seconds to hit five targets, which I considered to be quite bad.

He looked at me as if he was challenging me. I grinned and walked up to the middle. There were quite a few options for the range, from beginner to master. I took the one in the middle, Intermediate.

As I selected the Intermediate level, the range's holographic targets adjusted, becoming smaller and faster. They moved with erratic patterns, designed to simulate real-world scenarios where precision and speed were crucial. Alix watched me, a mix of curiosity and skepticism on his face. He probably expected me to struggle, thinking he had at least matched me in shooting.

I laughed at his thoughts. I took a deep breath to prepare myself. I wasn't as good with guns as I was good with my blades, but it was still enough to teach Alix a lesson. The target spurned to life, flickering as it moved from left to right. I raised the Kiran Arms Enforcer and without even aiming, shot instantly. Bullseye. Several more targets pop up. I continued shooting, hitting each target with precision. It continued for over a minute. I had taken out precisely 71 targets, which was half of the targets in the range.

I looked over at Alix to see his reaction. He was so shocked that his mouth was open. I looked behind him. The bodyguards who were standing by the door looked pretty uncomfortable too. I tilted my head, not understanding why they looked uncomfortable. I shook my head, shaking the thoughts away. I looked straight at Alix, "So, what was that about me losing?" I smirked, lowering the Kiran Arms Enforcer and ejecting the empty magazine with a smooth flick of my wrist. The sound of the mag hitting the polished floor seemed to echo in the silence of the room.

Alix stood there, his face a mixture of disbelief and frustration. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out at first. He didn't have any quick comeback so he couldn't mutter a word.

"That was..." He finally muttered, still looking for the right words. "Lucky shots," he finished, though his voice lacked the usual cockiness.

I laughed, "If those were lucky shots, I must be lucky all the time." I leaned against the counter and continued seriously, "Those had nothing to do with luck. Those have to do with how much practice you put in. It was all skill. When I started practicing, I didn't have all this fancy equipment."

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

He clenched his jaw, clearly annoyed but not quite willing to admit defeat yet. "Fine, teach me then. But don’t expect me to sit here and listen to lectures all day."

I crossed my arms, "I don't do lectures anyway so that's all good. Now, we'll start with the first order of business." I looked at him seriously, "Fix your damn posture."

He rolled his eyes and started to take aim as usual. "Feet shoulder-width apart," I instructed, stepping beside him. "Don't lock your knees. You need to absorb the recoil with your entire body, not just your arms."

He shifted uncomfortably but did as I said. His grip was too tight and his arm was too rigid, not flexible enough but it was better.

"Lean forward a little. You have to brace against the eventual recoil that's gonna hit your body. When it hits, you don't wanna move against it. You have to move with it. Otherwise, it's going to throw your aim off."

He grunted, fixing his posture as I instructed. I nodded as I circled around him, "Good, you have your aim down. You just need to relax your grip a little bit. You don't have to hold it so tight. It's not gonna fly out of your hands." I frowned and continued, "And keep your finger off the trigger. You aren't shooting right now so you should practice proper trigger discipline. Otherwise, someone might get hurt."

Alix grunted but relaxed his posture a little, doing as I instructed. He also took his finger off the trigger, which was a plus. I stepped back, watching if he could put what I'd said into actual practice.

"Now, try again."

Bang. Bang.

Two shots rang out and they hit the target, still slow but a tad faster than before. Acceptable results, I thought to myself. It was his first day and I wanted to give him some slack. I didn't want to scare them away, lest I lose the opportunity to earn lots of money.

I nodded, "Good enough for today, I guess." I looked at the time on my HUD, "There's still ten minutes left in today's lesson. Leave the gun for now. I'll teach you how to hold your own using your hands. Now that I think about it, you haven't shown me your H2H yet."

He looked visibly shaken, "Do I have to show you?"

I tried to keep a straight face as I asked, "Why? You lost your confidence after seeing my skills?"

He shook his head, trying to deny it, "No no. It's just I'm tired today."

"That's no excuse. If everybody quit whenever they're tired, nobody would be successful today," I instructed with a weird face. I wasn't used to talking like this.

After we went back to our training room away from the gun range, we took our place on the large mat again.

As we took our positions on the training mat, I could see Alix's confidence had taken a significant hit. His earlier bravado was replaced by a mixture of hesitation and stubborn pride. I decided to start with the basics, to get a sense of his actual skill level.

"Alright, show me your fighting stance," I instructed, crossing my arms and observing closely.

Alix reluctantly shifted into what he thought was a fighting stance. His feet were too close together, his guard was low, and his weight distribution was all wrong. It was clear he had picked up most of his "skills" from watching action movies rather than any real training.

I shook my head, "No, no, no. That stance would get you knocked out in seconds on the street." I moved closer, "First, widen your stance. Feet should be about shoulder-width apart." I demonstrated the proper foot positioning.

Alix grudgingly adjusted his feet.

"Good. Now, bend your knees slightly. You need to be able to move quickly in any direction." I continued, "Bring your hands up to protect your face. Your elbows should be tucked in to guard your body."

As Alix made the adjustments, I could see the frustration building in his eyes. He wasn't used to being corrected like this.

"Now, I'm going to throw a slow punch. I want you to try and block it," I said, getting into position.

I threw a deliberately slow jab towards his face. Alix's reaction was delayed and clumsy. He managed to get his arm up, but the movement was so exaggerated that it left him completely open for a follow-up strike.

"Stop," I said, lowering my fist. "Your block was too wide. You're leaving yourself exposed. The movement should be efficient and tight. Like this." I demonstrated a proper block, and my movement was quick and compact.

Alix's face reddened with a mix of embarrassment and anger. "This is stupid," he muttered. "In a real fight, I'd just use my implants or-"

I cut him off, "Implants and tech are tools, not crutches. What happens when they malfunction? Or when you're up against someone who can hack or disable them?" I locked eyes with him, my tone serious. "Basics save lives. Now, let's try again."

We spent the next few minutes working on basic blocks and strikes. Alix's form was improving, but his attitude was still a major obstacle. Every correction seemed to wound his pride.

As our time was nearly up, I decided to drive the lesson home. "Alright, last exercise. Try to hit me," I said, taking a defensive stance.

His eyes lit up with challenge. He lunged forward with a wild swing, clearly aiming to prove something. I easily sidestepped, using his momentum to guide him past me. He stumbled, his footing all over the place.

I didn’t follow up with a strike; instead, I stood my ground, arms crossed. "You're relying too much on brute force and wild swings. That’s going to get you hurt, or worse, in a real fight."

Alix turned, frustration etched into his features. "But I thought you said—"

"I said to keep things tight and efficient," I cut him off, my voice calm but firm. "Your punch was loud, obvious. You might as well have sent me a written invitation."

Alix clenched his fists, but to his credit, he tried again. This time, he aimed a jab at my midsection, quicker and more controlled. I blocked it with ease, keeping my movements minimal, just enough to deflect the blow.

"Better," I said. "But you're still leaving yourself open. When you throw a punch, your other hand should always be protecting your face. Think about balance. Attack and defend at the same time."

He adjusted again, trying to correct his form. The progress was slow, but it was progress. And at this point, that’s what mattered.

"Remember," I continued, "speed and technique will always beat raw strength. If you rely solely on power, you’re leaving a lot of vulnerabilities."

Alix was breathing hard now, sweat dripping down his brow. His earlier cockiness was gone, replaced with determination, even if tinged with frustration.

Alix straightened up, breathing heavily but nodding in agreement. "I’ll practice," he muttered.

I gave him a nod, signaling for a break. "You're getting better," I said, softening my tone slightly. "But you have to put in the work. There’s no shortcut to mastery." Wow, how cool of me, I thought to myself. I almost thought I was glowing by how cool I sounded.

As we wrapped up the session, I could see that despite his attitude, some of the lessons had started to sink in. Alix's posture was slightly better, and there was a hint of thoughtfulness behind his scowl.

I turned to Mr. Vandermeer who was watching from the sideline silently, "Today's lesson is done. We've made a start but we'll have to do more if we want him to get better. A lot more."

He nodded, "Alright, Ms. Night. We'll see you next session."

And with that, I left the apartment.