Combat Training

The first rule of survival: never hesitate.

CLANG!

Steel crashes against steel, the impact vibrating up my arms. The torches gleams like watchful spirits. I stand firm in the center, my grip tight on the hilt of my sword. My breath is steady, but my heart hammers like a war drum. Across from me, Lucian moves with fluid precision, circling me like a predator stalking its prey.

I have fought him before. I have lost before.

Not this time.

"Again," he commands, his voice sharp as a blade.

I tighten my grip. The urge to strike first gnaws at me, but I hesitate. The hunger coils inside me, thick and suffocating, clouding my mind. It slows me, tempts me with the scent of blood. I exhale sharply, forcing myself to focus. I cannot afford to lose control.

Lucian moves.

A blur of motion—his blade whistles through the air. I twist aside, but shhk! The tip slices into my shoulder. The pain is sharp but fleeting compared to the fire that burns within me. I grit my teeth, shoving aside my irritation. Pain is nothing. Pain is a reminder to be better.

"You're holding back," Lucian growls. "If you fight like this, you'll be dead before you even draw blood."

I force my breath steady. "I'm not—"

"Then prove it."

He lunges, faster, stronger. I drop low, sweeping my blade toward his legs. He leaps over it, twisting mid-air. He lands, sword crashing down in a deadly arc. CLANG! I barely block in time, my arms shaking from the impact. My muscles scream, but I refuse to yield.

We move faster now.

Lucian presses forward, pushing me back step by step. Sparks fly as our swords clash. I dodge, parry, counter—but I'm always reacting, never leading. Each step back feels like a loss, but I keep moving, searching for an opening.

My muscles burn. My breath comes fast and shallow. I am strong, faster than any human, but against Lucian, I am still not enough. Frustration coils in my gut. I shove it down. Emotions will not save me here.

Then, something shifts.

A spark ignites inside me. My vision sharpens. The world slows. I see the tension in Lucian's stance, the fraction of a second before he moves. The rhythm of battle clicks into place.

I attack.

My sword slices through the air, a blur of silver. Lucian barely dodges, his eyes widening in surprise. He recovers instantly, but now I am the one pressing forward. My strikes are sharper, faster, relentless.

"There it is," he murmurs, smirking.

I barely hear him.

The hunger roars within me.

I can smell the blood in the air.

I can hear his heartbeat, steady and strong, calling to me. A growl rises in my throat. Power surges, demanding release.

Lucian sees it.

In an instant, he's in front of me, his grip like iron around my wrist. He twists the blade from my grasp and slams me against the cold stone wall, his arm pressing against my throat. The impact steals the breath from my lungs, and for a moment, the battle inside me is louder than everything else.

"Control it," he orders. "Don't let it control you."

I struggle. My muscles scream to fight, to feed. My vision pulses red. My fangs ache. The whisper of blood in Lucian's veins is intoxicating.

But deep inside, I grab hold of something stronger than hunger.

I exhale, forcing my body to still. My fingers twitch, then relax. Slowly, the beast inside me quiets. My heartbeat slows. The need is still there—controlled, but never gone.

Lucian watches me closely. Seconds stretch. He waits, gauging my reaction.

Then, he smirks.

"Better," he says. "But you're not done yet."

He steps back and kicks my sword across the floor. It skids to a stop at my feet. The message is clear.

"Again."

I look down at the weapon. The hunger lingers, but it no longer owns me. I bend, gripping the hilt. My fingers tighten as I rise.

This time, when I lift my head, I am ready.

Lucian lunges.

I meet him head-on.

Blades clash.

Sweat drips down my back, but I don't falter. My strikes are sharp, controlled. I'm not just keeping up—I'm leading. Lucian adapts, but for the first time, he is adjusting to me. The shift is subtle, but undeniable. I feel it.

Then—

An opening.

I pivot, dropping low, sweeping my leg beneath Lucian's stance. Thud! He stumbles, just for a second, but it's enough. I surge forward, blade at his throat before he can recover.

Silence.

Lucian blinks. Then he chuckles. "Not bad," he admits. "But don't get cocky."

He knocks my weapon away, stepping back, his breath coming slightly heavier than before.

"We'll continue at dawn."

I nod, exhaustion taking over. But beneath the fatigue, something else burns—pride.

I fought. I won.

And I am only getting started.

I retrieve my blade, running my fingers along the edge. Tomorrow will be harder. I welcome it. Every lesson, every battle, makes me stronger. And I will be ready.

Lucian turns to leave, then pauses. "Get some rest, Aria. You'll need it."

I allow myself a small smile. The battle within me will never cease. But I will master it.

For the first time, I truly believe—

I am becoming unstoppable.

As I sheath my sword, I stay for a moment. The torches glow once more. My shoulder throbs where Lucian's blade found its mark, but I welcome the ache. It is proof that I endured, that I fought through the pain.

A faint breeze stirs the dust at my feet. I close my eyes, listening to the quiet hum of the night. Beyond these walls, the world waits. More battles. More trials. More moments that will test the strength I am forging within myself.

I will face them all.

One fight at a time....till every last drop.

They will learn to know me, rising up through the ranks to become the best.