[Grayson]

The sun was just a pale smudge in the sky when I stepped onto the training grounds. A cold wind whipped across the open field, carrying the faint scent of metal and dust. Rows of equipment lined the area—everything from towering obstacle courses to mechanical dummies that sparked and smoked when struck. I stuffed my hands into my jacket pockets, pretending the chill didn’t bother me.

“So, you’re the teleporting kid.”

I turned to see a grizzled soldier leaning against a steel crate, arms crossed. His uniform was spotless, his boots polished to a mirror shine. His eyes, though, looked like they hadn’t seen sleep in days. He had the kind of face that screamed don’t mess with me.

“Grayson,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. “You’re my trainer?”

“Sergeant Malik,” he replied, pushing off the crate. “And yeah, I’m your trainer. Lucky me.” His smirk didn’t exactly holler enthusiasm. “You’re the one who thinks teleportation’s all about vanishing and reappearing, huh?”

I frowned. “That’s... kind of the definition.”

“Sure, if you’re thinking small.” He gestured to a nearby platform with a set of weights on it. “But here, we don’t do small. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I hesitated, glancing at the weights. “Uh, I don’t think teleporting involves lifting dumbbells.”

Malik chuckled, the sound dry and humourless. “Teleporting is more than poofing around like a cheap magician. It’s about control, precision, and endurance. You think you can just blink from point A to B without breaking a sweat? Try it after I’ve pushed you to your limits. Now move.”

Great. Drill sergeant vibes. Just what I needed.

Reluctantly, I climbed onto the platform. Malik barked out instructions, and for the next twenty minutes, I did everything but teleport. Push-ups, squats, pull-ups—you name it. Sweat poured down my face, and my muscles burned like I’d been set on fire.

“Feeling tired?” Malik asked, not looking the least bit sympathetic.

“Exhausted,” I panted, wiping sweat off my brow. “What’s this got to do with teleporting?”

He smirked. “You’ll see. Now, take a breath.”

I barely had time to gulp down some air before he tossed a small, round object at me. Instinct took over, and I teleported. The rush hit me like a jolt of electricity—my body dissolving into particles, zipping through space, and slamming back together a few feet away.

I staggered, my heart racing. “What the—”

“Good,” Malik said, his eyes sharp. “But you’re slow.”

“Slow?” I snapped. “I literally teleported. How much faster can I get?”

“Faster than that,” he shot back. “You hesitated. Hesitation gets you killed.”

I clenched my fists, my frustration mounting. “You try ripping yourself apart and reassembling on the other side without hesitation!”

Malik stepped closer, his voice low. “That’s exactly what I expect you to do. Because out there, hesitation isn’t an option. You want to survive? You push past the fear. You move before you think.”

I bit back a retort and nodded. “Fine. What’s next?”

He handed me a blindfold. “Put this on.”

I stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “You want me to teleport blind?”

“You’re not blind. You’re just not using your eyes. Trust your instincts.”

“This feels like a setup for me to crash into something.”

“Then don’t crash,” he said simply.

With a deep sigh, I tied the blindfold over my eyes. The world went dark, and I felt my pulse quicken. Malik’s voice cut through the blackness.

“Feel the space around you. Listen to it. Where am I standing?”

I frowned. “How am I supposed to know—”

“Where?” he barked.

I strained my ears, trying to pinpoint his position. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel... something. A faint pull, like the air itself was whispering where he was.

“There,” I said, and without waiting for confirmation, I teleported.

The landing was rough—my knees buckled, and I nearly fell. But when I pulled the blindfold off, Malik was standing right in front of me, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“Not bad,” he admitted. “You might actually have potential.”

I straightened, a flicker of pride warming the exhaustion. “So, what’s next? More blindfold tricks?”

He chuckled, the sound almost genuine this time. “Oh, we’re just getting started, kid. Tomorrow, you’ll wish you were only blindfolded.”

I groaned. This was going to be a long training session.

~ ~ ~

[Noah]

The second I stepped into the training arena, my jaw practically hit the floor. This place was wild—way cooler than Grayson’s boring dirt patch. The walls were covered with racks of weapons, some shiny and sharp, others looking like they came straight out of a sci-fi movie. There were practice dummies, holograms buzzing with light, and this low hum of machines running in the background. The air smelled like sweat and gunpowder. Intense.

“This is sick!” I blurted out, spinning around to take it all in. My legs couldn’t stay still—I was already bouncing on the balls of my feet. “So, where do I start? Dodge lasers? Take down robots? Fight a dragon?”

That’s when this tall, no-nonsense guy walked up to me. He had this baton slung over his shoulder, and he looked at me like he was sizing up a bug. “Noah, right?”

“Yup,” I said, puffing out my chest. “Fastest kid alive. You’re gonna love this.”

The guy didn’t even blink. “I’m Lieutenant Akio. I’m here to make sure that ‘fastest’ doesn’t get you killed. Sound good?”

“Sounds awesome,” I said, grinning. “When do we start?”

He pointed to this sleek track at the edge of the room. It had these glowing blue lines running through it that looked like a neon highway. “Get on the track.”

I jogged over, feeling like a racehorse about to bust out of the gate. Akio followed, holding some kind of high-tech wristband.

“This is a pulse monitor,” he said, strapping it onto me. “Tracks your heart rate, oxygen levels, and stamina. If you overdo it, the track shuts down.”

“Sounds boring,” I said, cracking my knuckles. “I’ve got stamina for days.”

“Prove it,” Akio said, pressing a button on his tablet.

The blue lines on the track lit up, and I took off like a rocket. The first lap was easy—almost too easy. I kept it casual, giving a little wave to some soldiers who were watching from the sidelines. By the third lap, I cranked it up a notch, my legs flying faster than ever. The wind whipped past me, and I felt unstoppable.

“You call this a challenge?” I yelled, laughing.

Akio didn’t answer. Instead, he tapped his tablet, and the blue lines on the track turned red. That’s when I heard the buzz.

I glanced back and saw these sleek, holographic drones pop into existence. They zoomed forward, shooting beams of light that sizzled as they zipped past me.

“Oh, so it’s like that!” I said, grinning even wider.

I dodged left, then right, zigzagging across the track. The drones fired again, but I was too fast. My heart was pounding, my legs were burning, but I didn’t care. This was awesome.

“Faster, kid,” Akio called out. “You’re still an easy target!”

Challenge accepted. I pushed harder, my legs a blur. The world around me melted into streaks of colour, and the drones were nothing but flashes of light in my peripheral vision. For a moment, I felt untouchable—like I could outrun anything.

Then a beam clipped my arm.

“Ah, crap!” I yelled, stumbling to a stop. I grabbed my arm—it wasn’t bad, just a sting—but it was enough to knock me down a peg.

The track powered down, and Akio walked over, shaking his head. “You’re fast, but you’re reckless. That graze would’ve been a kill shot if this were real.”

“I was dodging everything else just fine,” I muttered, trying to save face.

Akio crossed his arms. “Speed without strategy is useless. You need to think ahead, anticipate, not just react. You’ve got the instincts, but instincts alone won’t save you.”

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “Alright, sensei. What’s the plan?”

His lips twitched, like he almost wanted to smile. “Good. Now you’re ready to listen.” He pointed to the middle of the room, where this massive holographic battlefield appeared out of thin air.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“For this phase, you’ll face moving targets that adapt to your speed. It won’t be easy, and it won’t be forgiving.”

“Me? Cocky? Never,” I said, smirking as I rolled my shoulders.

Akio didn’t bite. “Get ready. This isn’t a game.”

As I stepped into the simulation, the excitement bubbled back up. This was what I’d been waiting for. The stakes were higher now, but so was the fun.

“Alright, drones,” I muttered, cracking my knuckles. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

~ ~ ~

[Everett]

Standing in the middle of what looked like a storm simulator, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride. This was my element—literally. The room was massive, with steel walls reinforced to handle anything I could throw at it. Above me, a cluster of high-tech generators hummed softly, sparking with raw energy. The air buzzed, thick with static, and I felt it on my skin, like tiny pinpricks. It was the kind of place where someone like me was supposed to shine.

"Alright, Sparky," said Captain Kaine, my trainer for the day. He was tall and built like a tank, with arms crossed over his chest and a scowl that could probably scare thunder itself. "Your dossier says you can handle electricity. We’ll see if that’s true or if you’re just another overconfident kid."

I raised an eyebrow, giving him my best smirk. "Overconfident? Nah, I’m just confident enough."

He didn’t laugh. Tough crowd.

Kaine pointed to a console on the wall. “First, we’re starting simple. Channel your power into that conductor over there. I need to see how much voltage you can handle.”

“Simple enough,” I said, rolling my shoulders. I walked over to the console, which had this glowing crystal dome in the centre. Placing my hand on it, I closed my eyes and focused.

At first, nothing happened. But then, I felt it—a faint tingling in my fingertips, like the buzz of holding a live wire. I thought about the storm I’d seen the night before, the way the lightning had split the sky, raw and untamed. The sensation grew stronger, racing up my arm, until I could feel it thrumming in my chest.

With a sharp exhale, I let it flow.

The crystal dome lit up like a miniature sun, throwing sparks in every direction. The hum in the air grew louder, vibrating in my bones. My heart raced with it, and for a moment, I felt unstoppable.

“That’s enough!” Kaine barked.

I pulled my hand back, the energy fading as quickly as it had come. My fingers tingle, and the faint smell of ozone lingered in the air.

Kaine walked over, glancing at the readout on the console. “Not bad,” he said gruffly, though his tone barely betrayed any actual praise. “But raw power’s only half the equation. You need control.”

“I’ve got control,” I said, crossing my arms.

“Oh yeah?” Kaine gestured to a set of targets on the far side of the room. They were shaped like human silhouettes, glowing faintly. “Prove it. Hit those targets—precisely. No collateral damage.”

“Piece of cake,” I said, holding out my hand.

The energy came easier this time, like it was itching to be let loose. My fingers sparked, tiny arcs of electricity jumping between them. Taking a deep breath, I focused on the first target.

I pointed my hand and fired.

The bolt of lightning hit dead centre, leaving a charred mark on the target.

“See?” I said, grinning.

“Don’t celebrate yet,” Kaine snapped. “Next.”

I shifted my aim to the second target. This one was smaller, more narrow, but I was confident. Another bolt, another direct hit.

By the fourth target, though, I started to feel the strain. The energy wasn’t as easy to control—it wanted to go everywhere, like a spark jumping out of a campfire. My arm trembled as I aimed at the last one.

“Come on, Everett,” I muttered to myself. “Focus.”

The lightning surged again, and I fired.

The bolt hit the target—barely. It scorched the edge, but I couldn’t stop it from arcing off and hitting the wall behind it. Sparks rained down, and I winced as Kaine gave me a look that could melt steel.

“Sloppy,” he said.

“Hey, I hit it!” I protested.

“You hit it and nearly fried the wall. Out there, a stray bolt could mean the difference between taking down an enemy and taking out an ally. You’ve got power, kid, but no discipline.”

I clenched my fists, the residual energy sparking faintly. I wanted to argue, but deep down, I knew he was right.

“What do I do then?” I asked, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice.

Kaine’s expression softened—just a little. “You practise. You learn to hold back, to direct the energy exactly where you want it. And you don’t stop until it’s second nature.”

He walked over to the console, pulling up a new set of parameters. “We’ll work on precision next. Smaller targets, faster movement. And no shortcuts.”

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “Alright, alright. Let’s do it.”

As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. This power wasn’t just a toy or a party trick. It was a responsibility. And if I was going to use it, I needed to be better.

“Good,” Kaine said, a hint of approval in his voice. “Now, get back to work. You’ve got potential, Everett. Don’t waste it.”

The words stuck with me as I stepped back into position. Potential. Maybe this whole training thing wasn’t so bad after all.

~ ~ ~

[Liam]

If I’m being honest, I half-expected this to be easy. I mean, fire? I’ve seen it in movies, I’ve cooked on a grill, I’ve lit candles—how hard could it be to make a few flames dance around? Turns out, it’s way harder when you’re the lighter.

“Liam, focus,” Sergeant Malkor said, her voice sharper than the sparks I’d been trying to summon. She was my trainer for today, a straight-face woman with a permanent frown and a uniform so crisp it looked like it could cut glass. She stood with her arms folded, her piercing green eyes locked on me like I was a science experiment that had already failed three times.

“Focusing is exactly what I’m doing,” I said, trying to keep my cool. “This is my ‘focused’ face.”

Malkor raised an eyebrow. “Your ‘focused’ face looks a lot like your ‘thinking about lunch’ face.”

Okay, fair. But in my defence, I was hungry. “Maybe because it is close to lunch?” I shot back with a cheeky grin.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Let’s try this again. Hands out, palms up. Imagine the heat in your core—deep in your chest—and pull it outward.”

Nodding, I planted my feet and held out my hands, palms up like she said. Closing my eyes, I tried to feel for that heat she kept talking about. At first, there was nothing. Just the usual thoughts about what kind of food they’d serve here (I was praying for burgers). But then, faintly, I felt it—a flicker, like a candle flame somewhere deep inside me.

“Good,” Malkor said, her tone softer now. “Don’t rush. Build it slowly.”

I focused harder, imagining the flicker growing brighter, hotter. My palms tingled, and a warmth spread through my fingers. I cracked one eye open just in time to see a tiny flame appear in my left hand.

“Yes!” I said, grinning.

The flame sputtered out.

“No!”

Malkor groaned. “Liam, focus. Fire isn’t just about power. It’s about control. You can’t let it burn out the moment you get excited.”

“Right, right, control,” I muttered, shaking out my hands. “Cool as a cucumber. Or...hot as a pepper? Whatever.”

She ignored my commentary and gestured toward a row of targets on the other side of the room. “Let’s see if you can aim that flame. Hit the centre of the targets—without setting the entire room on fire.”

“No pressure or anything,” I joked, stepping into position.

This time, I focused harder, pulling that heat from my core and letting it flow into my hands. Flames flickered to life in both palms, small but steady. Taking a deep breath, I thrust my right hand forward, hurling a fireball at the first target.

It hit dead centre, leaving a black scorch mark.

“Ha! Nailed it!”

“Again,” Malkor said, her expression unreadable.

I hit the second target, then the third, the fireballs growing stronger each time. By the fourth, sweat dripped down my face, and my arms felt like they’d been holding dumbbells for hours.

“Not bad,” Malkor admitted. “But what happens when you’re under pressure?”

“Pressure?” I repeated.

She pressed a button on a console, and suddenly, the room wasn’t just a training arena—it was a full-on obstacle course. Metal walls shifted, rising and falling to block my view of the targets. Jets of water sprayed from hidden nozzles, drenching the air. And worst of all, a siren wailed loudly, making it almost impossible to concentrate.

“Oh, come on!” I yelled over the noise.

“Welcome to real combat,” Malkor said, her voice somehow cutting through the chaos. “Now hit the targets.”

I groaned but raised my hands again, summoning the flames. The water made it harder, each droplet sizzling as it hit my skin, but I managed to throw a fireball at the first target. It wavered mid-air but hit its mark.

The second target was trickier. A metal wall slid in front of it just as I launched the fireball, and it fizzled out on impact.

“Liam, adjust!” Malkor shouted.

“Yeah, yeah, adjusting,” I muttered, sweat soaking my shirt. This time, I waited for the wall to drop before launching the next fireball. It hit the target just as the siren cut out.

When the chaos finally stopped, I slumped to the floor, breathing hard. “That...was insane.”

Malkor walked over, her boots clanking against the metal floor. “You’re better than I expected,” she admitted, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “But you’ve got a long way to go.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said, rolling my eyes.

She chuckled. “You’ve got potential, Liam. But you need to learn discipline. Fire can be a powerful tool—or a dangerous weapon. The choice is yours.”

I nodded, too tired to argue. As I walked out of the room, I couldn’t help but feel a spark of pride. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, but I was getting there. One flame at a time.

~ ~ ~

[Tristan]

"Alright, gentlemen," the instructor barked, his voice crisp and booming. "Healing might sound like the safest ability on the battlefield, but let me tell you—it can be the difference between victory and defeat."

Steven and I stood side by side in the sterile training room, which smelled faintly of disinfectant. The walls were lined with cabinets filled with bandages, salves, and strange devices I didn’t recognize. Our instructor, a burly man with a thick beard and piercing grey eyes, paced back and forth in front of us. His name was Commander Vance, and he had the vibe of someone who took things way too seriously.

“First things first,” Vance said, stopping to look us both in the eye. “Healing isn’t just about patching up wounds. It’s about knowing when to act, where to apply pressure, and who to prioritise. The battlefield is chaotic, and you don’t have time to second-guess yourself.”

“Got it,” I said with a casual shrug. “Save the people who matter. Easy.”

Steven shot me a look, his glasses catching the fluorescent light. “It’s not just about who matters, Tristan. It’s about who needs it most.”

“Oh, sure,” I said, smirking. “But if it’s you or me? Guess who I’m picking.”

Steven rolled his eyes. “Classic Tristan.”

Vance cleared his throat, and we both snapped to attention. “Enough chit-chat. Let’s see what you two are made of.” He led us over to a series of dummies, each one covered in simulated wounds—cuts, burns, and bruises that looked disturbingly real.

“Your goal,” Vance said, “is to heal these injuries as quickly and efficiently as possible. Focus your energy, visualise the cells knitting back together, and channel your power through your hands. Understood?”

Steven nodded eagerly. “Understood.”

“Got it,” I said, though I wasn’t entirely sure I did.

We each stepped up to a dummy. Steven was already in the zone, his hands glowing faintly as he worked on a deep gash across the dummy’s chest. I, on the other hand, stared at my dummy like it had personally offended me.

“Come on, Tristan,” I muttered to myself. “You’ve got this.”

I placed my hands over a nasty-looking burn on the dummy’s arm and closed my eyes. At first, nothing happened. The room was too quiet, except for the faint hum of Steven’s energy as he worked.

“Focus, Tristan,” Vance said from behind me. “Healing comes from within. You need to tap into your instincts.”

Instincts, huh? Okay, sure. I tried to imagine the burn healing—skin regenerating, tissue repairing itself. Slowly, a warmth spread through my palms. When I opened my eyes, I saw the burn fading, the charred skin smoothing out.

“Ha!” I said, grinning. “Told you I could do it.”

“Don’t celebrate too soon,” Vance warned. “This is just the beginning.”

Steven finished his dummy first, of course. He adjusted his glasses and turned to me with a smug smile. “Need a hand, Tristan?”

“Pfft, I’ve got this,” I said, waving him off.

The next part of the training was even harder. Vance set up a simulation where holographic soldiers appeared, moaning and writhing as if they were actually injured. We had to work together to heal them while dodging holographic explosions and bullets.

“Stick to your side,” Steven said as we started.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I shot back, darting toward a soldier with a leg wound.

The simulation was chaos. Holographic grenades went off around us, and the cries of the soldiers made it hard to think. I healed as fast as I could, my hands glowing with that warm energy, but it wasn’t enough. For every soldier I saved, another one cried out in pain.

Steven, of course, was handling it like a pro. He moved quickly from one soldier to the next, his focus unshakable.

“Tristan, over here!” he called, pointing to a soldier with a chest wound.

“I see him!” I shouted back, rushing over.

We worked side by side, our powers overlapping as we stabilised the soldier. For a moment, it felt...good. Like we were actually making a difference.

“Not bad,” Vance said as the simulation ended. “You two have potential. But you’re not there yet.”

I wiped the sweat from my brow, glancing at Steven. “Well, Mr. Perfect, looks like we survived.”

Steven smirked. “Barely. But yeah, we make a good team.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” I said, grinning.

As we left the training room, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride. Sure, Steven and I bickered like crazy, but when it came down to it, we had each other’s backs. And on the battlefield, that’s what mattered most. I hope.