“You’re footing is off, disciple.”

James grunted as his master sweeped a leg out from under him, taking him to the ground in a smooth motion.

“You couldn’t just say that?” James coughed out.

“I could,” Nadia answered. “But you learn best when experiencing the issue firsthand. Now, do you see why your footing in important?”

“Yeah,” James grumbled. He stood, the waters around him ebbing outward. Nadia moved next to him, helping him position correctly.

“So explain to me again how getting knocked to the ground helps me learn to use my core?” James asked in frustration.

“It is one thing to learn to use your core and another entirely to incorporate it into combat,” Nadia said. “Usually, this would be the time where I teach you how to call forth your powers comfortably. But we do not have the luxury of time.”

“Story of my life,” James grumbled.

Nadia stepped back, falling into a stance. “What we are trying to do, disciple, is link a set of movements with the act of calling forth water from the core.”

“Which involves my ass getting repeatedly knocked to the ground,” James complained again.

“We can stop if you wish,” Nadia said.

James sighed. “No, I’m just venting. You’re right that I need to learn this.”

The spar started once more. James moved forward, trying to call forth the connection with the core. The goal at the moment was to conjure a film of water over his hands. And yet the training was slow going.

Most of the problem was learning how to be in two places at once. Because of how he connected to the core, James could only call forth water when he had his connection open. But when he had his connection open James found himself focusing solely on his inner body.

His previous conjurations of water had been him opening his connection and just letting the feeling of water flow through him. It worked but there was no power behind the moves. Activating his core in that manner only made James a faucet. And while an uncontrolled deluge of water was appropriate in certain situations, it did not make for a good combat art.

The usual way of training would not work either. According to Nadia, James’s connection with the core was more like a handheld connected to the intranet instead of a direct link. If James wanted to use his power, he would have to send a request to the core, which would then grant the ability and send it back. That, compounded with the fact that the core sent approval to James’s inner body and not his outer, meant that he was either too slow in creating the water he needed or it just outright didn’t work.

James and his master had spent the better part of two weeks theorizing solutions until they came to their current theory. James would sync his inner and outer body while in the metastate, duping the core into granting its power outside its world.

Which was easier said than done.

It turned out trying to sync two bodies was like trying to play two separate songs on the piano at the same time. Certainly doable with the right songs, but jarring and disorienting when put into practice. Some part of James had separated his inner and outer bodies, meaning he had to control both at the same time to get his powers to work.

The act was frustrating, to say the least.

That was why they were practicing specific motions. Muscle memory would make sure both his bodies stayed in sync.

Still, it was easier said than done.

James took a breath, falling into the metastate and beholding both his bodies. The one outside rested easily in the park clearing, while his inner world fell into a stance in front of Nadia. A moment later, the outside body followed suit. He was getting faster, the first time he’d tried it had taken him leaving his inner world to move into a stance.

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“Okay,” he said.

Nadia moved forward with measured steps. She moved deliberately, her every move coming in slow. James met it with the same speed, both his bodies moving together.

Punch, punch, block, block, kick. The rhythm came together like an orchestra for practice. Nadia jabbed at his shoulder and James spun away from it. He responded with an elbow, Nadia leaning out of the way.

“Good,” she said. “Now, call the waters to cover your hands.”

She sent a punch toward his chest. James brought a hand up to block, sending a request to his core. His face scrunched in concentration as a thin film of water started to form around his hand. On the outside, James felt a coolness wash over his hand.

The feeling felt strange, as his inner world had none of that feeling. And as Nadia’s hand reached James’s he felt his concentration falter. The water outside fell, splashing on the ground and spraying his ankles. The feeling took him out of sync, and in his haste to reconnect he missed Nadia’s jab at his shoulder.

He stumbled back, his concentration fully broken.

“Scrapheaps,” James cursed.

“You almost had it, disciple,” Nadia said.

“Almost doesn’t count,” James answered.

“It will come,” Nadia said. “However, I believe it is time for a break. You are in need of food.”

James sighed. “Alright.”

He stepped out of his mind and back into the world at large. Gray concrete greeted him, nothing like the shimmering blue tones of the world inside his core.

Stretching, James made his way out of his makeshift practice arena and back toward his temporary dwelling, an old apartment quarters of some kind. He leaped over the pile of rubble blocking the doorway and made his way up the stairs to the only room not destroyed by time. A pile of cans lay to the side, the results of days of scavenging.

James grabbed one of the cans, grabbing the pull tab and yanking the top off to reveal some kind of soup. He downed it, ignoring the strange lukewarm taste.

It wasn’t worse than other things he’d eaten as a kid in Tower Ten.

He finished the meal with a swig of water called forth from his core and made his way back to the training area.

An echoing clatter of rubble gave him pause. James shrank back into the shadows, peering out to find the source of the sound.

He spied it in the distance, a large dog of some kind. A pack of smaller animals moved behind it, the lot of them sniffing the ground. The leader of the pack scanned the rubble much like James had.

One of the dogs barked, alerting the leader as it started making its way toward James. He stifled a curse, the animals had his scent or something.

Truthfully, James knew he had been lucky so far. A whole month of living in this dead city and not once had he been spotted by some animal. It stood to reason that his luck would run out at some point.

As the animals prowled closer, James moved back into the dilapidated building, heading up the crumbling stairs to create a choke point. He grabbed staffs from his bag, securing them to the ground and creating a barred wall between him and the animals. He pulled one more staff free and waited.

The pack appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Only the leader seemed to be well-fed. The rest had a half-starved look to them.

On seeing James, one of the skinnier animals rushed at him, likely too hungry to think. It dove against the staffs, bending them toward James but slowing its advance. James jabbed at it with his staff, striking the animal in the throat. It yelped in pain and retreated.

The leader stepped forward, intelligence in its eyes. It had a sleek black coat matted with dust and rubble. Its face looked to be a mix of dog and some other animal James couldn’t place. Its tongue lolled out between its teeth as it gave low undulating bark that set James’s teeth on edge.

Two of the larger animals behind the leader rushed forward. They dove at the wall of staffs, bending them forward. They held up, James quickly pushing the animals back with stabs from his staff. The leader barked again, sending three of the pack this time.

James knew he couldn’t allow this pack to dictate the fight. He entered the metastate, jabbing forward three times as the animals jumped toward his barrier. The staff hit each square in the eye, knocking them to the ground and sending them back behind the leader.

The animal growled at James, attempting to scare him. James stood tall, making eye contact and refusing to back down. They stood like that for a time, both sides looking, daring each other to make the first move.

Eventually, the leader barked and turned. Apparently, James was too much work to deal with. The pack kept an eye out until the leader had left, then followed.

James waited for a while, making sure the animals were gone before pulling the staffs out of the ground and placing them back into his storage. He sighed in relief, glad that the leader didn’t try anything reckless. James hadn’t been sure that he could hold the whole pack back at once.

“If that isn’t motivation for learning, I don’t know what is,” James said to himself.

He decided against going back to his training area, choosing instead to find a more secure place. There was no telling if the pack was still around.

Night fell, and James continued to train with his master, his focus renewed.