I walked into the building that was hosting my Swordsmanship class. The amount of my peers here was smaller than my previous Anatomy class, there were only eleven others and a Bronze woman. She had a sword buckled at her waist. The “classroom” reminded me more of a windowless warehouse than a facility of higher education. One of the walls was lined with blades.

“Hello, students. My name is Instructor Lilliana Kaesarion and I will be your teacher for this class.” The woman said. “Please line up in front of me.”

We complied with her request and did so and she walked back and front of us like we were rank and file soldiers of the Militares.

“This class is designed to elevate and advance your bladecraft to preternatural levels. Though you have all had training in combat and your natural Imperator instincts of battle and your Bronze strength and speed will have made you superior to the vast majority of lifeforms living in the Dominium, there is still more to be done to further your prowess with a sword. As Strategos officers in the Solar Guard of Apollo system you will be serving not only as commanders and coordinators of lower cultivators in our armies but also as warriors fighting against other Bronze Imperators in the event of a mass scale insurrection or the invasion of another solar system. You will lead from the front and will be required to slay and master all before you. Understood?” Instructor Kaesarion said.

“Yes, ma’am!” The twelve of us said together.

“Good. As Bronzes you will have noticed that Thanatosian particles no longer significantly hamper your regeneration for the lengths of time or degree of effect they had when you were Copper Rank, nor do they cause any blood loss. As such, specialized technology too costly to mass produce for ordinary soldiers and too dangerous to place in non-Imperator hands has been developed and added to the Keenblades wielded by officers of the Guard.” The instructor said.

She pulled her Keenblade sword from her scabbard, the black swordholder melting away like liquid to free the blade and then reforming and hardening back into its shape when she had drawn it fully. Forgoing activating the molecular disruption field that would have blurred the air around the weapon in a heat haze or turning on a Thanatosian particle generator that would have cause miniscule black specks to flake off the sword, she instead initiated a function that turned the edges of the reddish Jovium-copper alloyed Keenblade a glowing electric blue.

“This is a Chronosian edge, and it is what real Strategos Bronzes use to fight other Bronzes and kill them, which is why we will not be using them in training. The devious tactical nature of Chronosian edges comes from a simple realization: neither burns nor cuts nor electrocution will claim a Bronze Imperators life, but age will take all but the most exalted in the end and cut their life’s thread. The technology accelerates time to advance aging and decay, killing cells it comes into contact with, making healing factors extremely lethargic when it comes to repairing wounds, and taking years off an enemy’s life with a single touch.” She said.

“Why are these Chronosian edges only effective and used against Bronzes?” I asked the teacher.

“The Silver teleportation special ability gained by their Metallic Rank is a manipulation of space and time and it protects them against the temporal acceleration and unnatural aging.” Instructor Kaesarion replied.

“Thank you, Instructor.” I said.

“Now then, take a sword off the wall and pair up. First to seven connecting strikes wins. Switch partners when one of you is proven the victor. I will be analyzing your skill as you practice together.” Lilliana Kaesarion said.

I got a Keenblade and then raised my weapon in challenge to another boy and he lifted his own in response. We got closer together, conscious of the fact that though the warehouse-like classroom was relatively big, we clearly were not expected to take full advantage of our superhuman mobility without risking crashing into one of the five other fights or blowing through a wall.

I grinned as we began exchanging a discourse of violence, the damage that Heracles’s funeral pyre had done to me had finally receded, wrestled into submission by my healing factor after over a day.

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The other boy was well trained in a classical style characteristic of the nobility that I recognized from working with the other Imperators on Sunburst Station when I was trying to forcibly advance them to Bronze, but he lacked real passion and zeal. He had enough experience and drive to beat out lesser Imperators enough times and with enough brutality that he had ascended to the Second Rank of our Path, but he did not want to win as badly as I did. He had never known what it had been like to fight as a gladiator to the cheers of seventy thousand spectators packed into a single arena and because of that his desire to break bone and rend flesh did not come to a fraction of my bloodlust and determination. I got my seven hits in soon enough while he only got two past the guard of my blade and my dexterous footwork pulling me out of his reach.

The next person I drew my Keenblade against was a girl with the opposite problem of the youth I had just won against. Her constant need to be on the offensive exceeded her actual skill compared to mine and I took the victory before she made even a single connecting attack successfully on me. I was going to give her advice but thought better of it when she glared murderously at me.

I was just about to start on my third opponent when the instructor singled me out.

“Alright, what’s your name?” She said to me, pointing her blade at me.

“Adrias Lucion.” I said.

“You’re a bit ahead of the curve, Lucion, so I will have you practice with me.” Kaesarion said.

“Okay.” I replied, taking a stance.

At first, she was merely better than me, more graceful and efficient in her attacks. Right when we were falling into a rhythm of her pressing me hard and me just barely managing to keep up, she flipped the script and changed the entire dynamic. She moved impossibly fast, far quicker than any Bronze Imperator I had ever seen, and when I blocked her strikes, I heard cracks coming from tiny fractures in my bones. I could not believe it; how could she be so remarkably agile when she lacked a Red Halo that would mark her as genetically engineered?

In speedy succession, she struck me thirteen times, each blow stinging harshly, landing six more blows than she needed to win that I was helpless to stop or dodge.

Panting and beaten, I staggered slightly.

“How did you do it?” I asked her when I caught my breath and my heart slowed down from its racing pace. “How do you move so fast and hit so hard when you’re not Red Haloed?”

“Effective use of a psychic power called physio-augmentation. It turns mental energy and willpower into an amplification of the body, enhancing your explosive power in your movements.” The instructor explained.

I remembered my conversation with Justinias about Gold Imperators and their superb mastery of psychic powers.

“The psychic arts can strengthen your body, give you flight, telekinesis, control of the elements, create unbreakable armor so long as you have the will to maintain it.” He had said. Strengthening your body, huh.

“How is it done?” I said to her.

“It’s not taught to Scholarium students until Third Year for reasons of waiting for maturity and to further ingrain practice to avoid overreliance on the ability to brute force combat encounters.”

I was disappointed to hear that, and I guessed it showed on my face because she sighed.

“Meet me tonight at this location and I will teach you some of the basics under the table, if you can keep quiet about it around other instructors or teachers.” She said, tapping on her wrist communicator and sending me an address in the Apollonian Citadel through a function that allowed messaging from nearby communicators without either one of them having each other’s number.

“Thank you, ma’am.” I said to her, pleased.

Having her attention, I decided to question her further on inter-Rank fights.

“How does one fight a Silver if the Chronosian edged Keenblades don’t work on them?” I said to her.

She laughed. “Even with psychic physio-augmentation a Bronze Imperator fighting a Silver Imperator would be like an Unawakened child fighting a Copper.”

I wondered how I would do against one with Heracles’s power burning me up and physio-augmentation and my Bronze body combined all together into one unholy blend.

“How do Silvers fight each other then? Just hit hard enough?” I asked.

“They use our Path and their high Rank’s natural connection to the Skyfather to bind an echo of his near omnipotent thunderbolts to their blades or fists and the divine power inflicts cursed wounds.” Kaesarion said.

Another question occurred to me, a natural extension of my previous thoughts.

“And how about Golds?” I said.

“As I hear it, they find it uncivilized to face each other physically and reserve ordinary fighting for punishing lesser beings. They fight each other with the power of their minds in dreamscapes. Even with their herculean strength and arcane techniques, there’s not much they can do against a peer opponent that can tank planet cracking missiles to the chest, regrow heads and limbs in a thousandth of a second, and resurrect from half a pound of intact flesh or bone.” The instructor said.

I was a little stunned hearing about how difficult it was to kill one of them.