As she landed another square blow on his chin she asked, “So when in this process do I begin to breathe fire?”
He was visibly annoyed but motioned her to do it again. Doing as she was directed, she repeated the motion, he explained, “It isn’t that simple. You may never breathe fire. You may never run on air or cut a black hole in half. The point isn’t gaining super powers.”
“Then explain again.” Hepta tried to land a kick, but got tripped by him again. She was getting bored of this repetitive behavior.
He helped her back up. “It takes a lot of work and challenges to do anything massive, but you read about the Greasians, right?” She nodded, familiar with the odd warrior culture, “They are…” he shuddered, “An experience, but they have a belief as to why certain champions and veterans rise to the top that stays true.” Hepta did the punch as he had taught, but figured it would be fun to throw in some extra gusto. He noticed it and turned his head so she hit him square in the middle of his forehead. She felt less pain this time but she swore there was steam coming from where she hit. He continued, “That those who were pure of heart and strong of will had more power, endurance, and skill than the inexperienced fearful rookies who would fade from history.”
Hepta stared at him in a bit of surprise. She asked skeptically, “So what. They had guts. We tend to push ourselves harder if we believe in what we do.”
He nodded, taking a deep breath before speaking, “Exactly. And when a nobody who has been beaten to near death by a superior foe suddenly gets a second wind and becomes stronger than when they began, where did that come from? Why aren’t they that strong from the start next time?” She started taking various reckless swings for her own amusement and he began to deflect them effortlessly, “The answer is deeper. They impose their will on reality and on their opponent. Denying pain and consequences, seeking their one true vision of how the story ends.”
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
She chuckled, “So you are telling me if I can keep my focus on beating you to a pulp, I can make it happen?” He smirked in reply. She tried to picture it in her mind, him battered with a black eye propping himself against the wall. Laying into him with that focus in mind, she was a little surprised. Her blows were clearly still sloppy based on his expression, but when he would correct her form, she would find herself trying to use those corrections as more openings to strike him.
He seemed to be taking it in stride but he almost seemed to be growing in disappointment as she continued this. She felt like she was making him work harder to defend himself, but he didn’t seem concerned in the slightest. She went to strike him and she could swear he was thinking. Not scared or worried, but just thinking. She landed a blow square into his left eye, and he stumbled back looking pretty battered. She pumped her arm excitedly, but when she blinked, he was gone. Feeling heat on the back of her neck, she froze. “You have the right idea, but you aren’t thinking ahead. But it isn’t your fault. You lack experience.” She was too scared to move, every drop of cold sweat down her neck seemed to evaporate beneath the heat of his flames. He sighed, “I don’t expect you all to be as strong as me, but I think a field trip will help. Maybe then you all can truly see what I’m talking about.”
He walked away from her. Hepta tried to follow him in hopes of getting answers but he locked himself in his room again, his temper getting the better of him.
In the room he started to record another message, “My lord, I hope your training has continued as intended. When we meet for the next movement against Zora I hope that our current efforts will have born fruit.” He sighed as he stared at it for a moment. He looked around the sparsely decorated room and nodded. “Yeah, maybe that’s it. It has been on the emperors list of tasks for me. Maybe that will be the right amount of pressure.”