Training Ground: Power

An otherworldly surge coursed through Libert's being, a strange energy that felt both unfamiliar and strangely familiar. From the depths of his core, it flowed, electrifying his every nerve and extending to his very fingertips.

In that fleeting moment, Libert experienced a rare sensation of power, he felt that had gained a small amount of control over his passive life.

Yet, as quickly as it had arrived, the intensity dissipated, leaving him longing for its return, like a flickering candle extinguished before his mind could fully comprehend its flame.

"It...didn't work," Libert's voice carried a tinge of disappointment, his gaze shifting to the young girl standing beside him, seeking solace or understanding.

"It's okay," Elena's voice held a hint of reassurance, a drop of enthusiasm still lingering within her words. She understood the fleeting nature of such extraordinary experiences.

Summoning his resolve, Libert echoed Elena's guidance in a whispered mantra, "Focus my intent..." He steeled himself for another attempt, determined to reclaim the ephemeral power that had briefly embraced him.

The sensation returned, but this time, it felt fragile and diluted compared to its initial surge. Libert's heart sank, his fingers tingling with a weakened energy that struggled to match his earlier encounter.

"It's...okay," Elena's delicate voice broke through the heavy atmosphere, carrying a note of understanding rather than pity. She saw beyond the surface of power, recognizing the strength in vulnerability and the courage it took to face one's limitations.

"I'm a m-mundane..." Libert's voice wavered, his eyes unable to meet Elena's gaze, consumed by a twinge of shame at his perceived lack of prowess.

"I don't have a problem with that," Elena's unwavering gaze met his, her elegant voice cutting through his self-doubt. In her acceptance, Libert found a glimmer of acceptance within himself, as if her words had permitted him to express his vulnerability.

"I thought y-you would be d-disappointed," Libert's voice quivered, his self-doubt seeping through his words.

"Nah, but I'll be more disappointed if you don't wanna spar," Elena's spirited voice echoed, injecting a dose of reassurance into Libert's fragile state of mind.

"Sure…" Libert's response was hesitant, lacking the confidence he so desperately wished to possess. He didn't want to let Elena down, but the truth was, his fighting experience was close to nonexistent.

"Okay!" Elena's enthusiasm filled the room as she took a few steps back, ready to engage.

'Hopefully, I won't die?' Libert's internal plea for mercy mingled with his anxious thoughts, a humorous attempt to lighten the tension that gripped him.

"Are you ready?" Elena's voice cut through Libert's mental turmoil, her eyes shining with excitement and joy, like sapphire gems in the dim light.

Libert drew in a deep breath, the intake of air filling his lungs and steadying his racing heartbeat. With a nod, he signaled his readiness, pushing past his doubts to embrace the challenge before him.

"D-do I sta—"

In the blink of an eye, the air around Libert took on an eerie aura, sending a shiver down his spine. It was a sensation he had come to dread, one that heralded the return of a dark presence.

"Mr. Xavier..."

The familiarity of the name stirred memories of a traumatic event, triggering a whirlwind of emotions within Libert's mind. His body, instinctively responding to the threat, shifted into survival mode, every fiber fighting for its existence.

The world around him seemed to slow down as his senses intensified. Sight became razor-sharp, capturing even the smallest details. The scents in the air overwhelmed him, while each touch felt magnified, every sound reverberating through his very being.

Elena, once a solid presence beside him, became a blur, as if defying the laws of physics. She phased through the air with an otherworldly speed, transcending natural limits.

But Libert's bewildered eyes caught glimpses of something more extraordinary. She wasn't simply phasing through the air; she was traversing an endless series of portals, her movements defying all reason. Her raven-black hair became a streak of blurred motion as she broke through the confines of reality itself.

In an instant, the elegant girl arrived at her destination, her fist connecting with Libert's chin in a brutal, unrelenting strike. The impact sent him sprawling back, his body aching with searing pain, his senses overwhelmed by the metallic tang of blood.

The room fell into silence, the only sound being the thud of Libert's body hitting the ground. Elena, the relentless yet graceful aggressor, continued her ethereal dance, seamlessly shifting through portals with uncanny speed.

Through the haze of pain, Libert caught sight of Elena's fist emerging from a swirling vortex, dangerously close once again. He braced himself, anticipating another onslaught. But in that brief moment, the fist hesitated, as if granting him a chance to speak.

"Wai—"

Before Libert could utter a plea for mercy or understanding, Elena's onslaught resumed with even greater intensity. Each strike carried the force of a missile, reminding Libert of his past encounters with powerlessness.

The pain inflicted on his body echoed the anguish of his past, yet within that moment, a dormant ember began to ignite within him—a spark of resilience, buried deep within his core.

As Elena's barrage continued, something awakened within Libert. The buried fragments of his true potential stirred, flickering to life.

The memories of helplessness and vulnerability served as fuel, kindling a determination he had never known before. The fear that had gripped him for far too long transformed into a resolute defiance.

At that moment, in that second, something awoke within Libert; something that was buried…