Astor watched closely as Kren, Caleb, and Amy practiced their abilities during training. Ever since escaping Fournier's exploitation, he had vowed to help the youths regain their free will and individuality gently. But undoing the brainwashing was slow, difficult work.
"Excellent teamwork neutralizing those targets," Astor said warmly as they finished the exercise. "You should be proud of how far you've come."
The teens beamed under the praise, though their eyes still held that disconcerting vacuous shine from the conditioning.
"We just want to make you proud, mentor," Kren said earnestly. The others nodded, gazing at Astor with unsettling adoration.
Astor suppressed a pang of regret. He had nurtured their attachment to him through manipulative means. Now he was trying to quietly undermine that conditioning while avoiding distress or confusion.
"You don't need to rely on my approval," Astor suggested gently. "What matters most is being true to yourselves."
The teens looked puzzled by that idea. "But guiding and pleasing you gives us purpose," Caleb said after a moment. The others murmured agreement.
Astor kept his expression neutral, but inwardly he despaired. The brainwashing had burrowed so deep into their psyches. But he had to keep trying to gently undo it.
"Why don't we take a break," Astor said lightly. "Feel free to just relax and chat normally. You don't have to keep impressing me."
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
The youths shifted uncertainly, unused to unstructured social time. But after an awkward start, soon they were laughing together over old stories from their limited shared past.
Watching them, Astor allowed himself a small smile. Their true personalities could emerge with patience and care. The light still lingered within, no matter how darkness tried to snuff it.
There would be more difficulty ahead, but Astor would guide them through. The bonds between him and these youths went beyond mere programming, twisted as their origins were. Together, they would find their way.
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Mitch eyed the three eager teens in front of him - Mike, Lea, and Karen - freshly recruited for the PSA after escaping Fournier's exploitation. As power users, they needed proper training, but their renown explorers fandom worried Mitch.
"Alright recruits, let's start with some basic forms," Mitch said. "Mike, show me an mana sphere."
Mike grinned and conjured a glowing orb that quickly sputtered out. "Whoops, hang on! I'm still getting the hang of this mana stuff."
Lea bounced excitedly. "Ooh, I wanna try! Do you think I could get Astor's autograph later?"
Mitch resisted the urge to rub his temples. "Focus please, Lea. This is a combat exercise, not a meet and greet."
The final teen, Karen, shyly spoke up. "I don't mean to be rude, but are you and Astor...you know, together? You seem so close in your photos."
Mitch clenched his fists. "That's not up for discussion. Now summon your weapons!"
The chastised teens hastily manifested their mystic tools. But Mitch could see training these starry-eyed fans would be an uphill battle. He had to temper their awe with discipline and purpose.
Over the next grueling hours of drills, the recruits' enthusiasm dimmed under Mitch's stern commands and corrections. But their combat forms gradually improved as well.
By the end, they regarded Mitch with apprehensive respect rather than giddy excitement. He tried to give them an encouraging smile.
"Solid effort today. Being a defender is more than glory or cool powers. But you've shown promise."
The teens beamed at his measured praise. There was still much work ahead, but they had taken the first steps. Given time, Mitch believed he could mold them into steadfast guardians ready to confront the darkness.
He clapped Mike on the shoulder. "Now hit the showers. And don't forget to review your training manuals."
As they scurried off, Mitch allowed himself a small smile. The next generation was coming into their own, for good or ill. But under his guidance, they would stand strong against the spreading shadows. The future remained unwritten.