Break something

"These are called the Airstep Boots. When activated, they create artificial steps in the air. However," he emphasized, "controlling these steps is tricky, especially when you're in motion. That's why the Skygrappler and the Airstep Boots are used together. While the Skygrappler ensures stability, the Airstep Boots provide mobility and maneuverability in mid-air. Together, they're a game-changer for melee fighters in high-stakes combat."

Visconti leaned toward Elijah and whispered, "That's cool and all, but I bet Kieran's going to whine about how unfair it is that ranged fighters don't get these."

Elijah smirked. "You mean the same Kieran who would probably trip over his own feet trying to use them?"

Visconti chuckled, but their attention snapped back to the instructor as he continued.

The instructor's sharp gaze silenced their murmurs. "You'll each get a chance to practice with these tools. And let me be clear," he said, voice dropping into a more serious tone, "These aren't toys. If you misuse them, you'll not only fail, but you might injure yourself—or worse. Pay attention to the demonstration."

The cadets groaned collectively, a mix of excitement and dread filling the air.

The cadets watched closely as the instructor expertly hooked the Skygrip Ascender to a ledge, leaped into the air, and activated the Airstride Sole. With fluid precision, he climbed upward, stepping on the glowing, translucent stairs that appeared beneath his feet.

"Wow," Elijah muttered, impressed despite himself.

Elijah laced up the Airstride Sole, surprised by how light they felt. Unlike regular boots, they seemed to mold perfectly to his feet, as if they were a natural extension of his body.

"Huh," he muttered, flexing his toes. "These feel... weirdly comfortable."

Gripping the Skygrip Ascender, he scanned the room.

The ceiling was high, with a black flag dangling precariously from a hook.

Elijah swung the hook toward the ceiling, but it missed. "Tch," he clicked his tongue. "Let's try that again."

On his second attempt, the hook latched securely.

Satisfied, he tugged the rope, testing its strength. "Here goes nothing," he said, placing his foot cautiously in the air.

To his surprise, a faint, glowing step materialized beneath his sole.

He placed his other foot forward, and another step appeared.

He took another step, then another, finding the process surprisingly intuitive.

Compared to the strain of his gravity manipulation ability—which required extreme precision and left his body aching—this felt almost effortless

'Hey, this isn't so bad,' he thought.

But on his third step, his foot slipped, and he wobbled precariously in midair.

His stomach lurched as he flailed to regain balance.

Below him, cadets were struggling even more. One slipped and crashed into a padded wall, while another lost their grip entirely, dangling helplessly from their rope.

Elijah scanned the room, puzzled. "Why is everyone struggling so much?"

That's when he noticed Visconti.

Unlike the others, Visconti moved gracefully, as if he were strolling up an invisible staircase.

His movements were fluid and confident, and he was making quick progress toward the flag.

Elijah couldn't help but marvel.

"Of course, he's a natural," Elijah muttered, shaking his head.

Determined not to be outdone, Elijah inhaled deeply. "Alright, focus."

He stepped forward, and then another, gaining momentum.

Soon, he was running in the air.

As he neared the halfway point, disaster struck.

His ankle twisted at an awkward angle, sending pain shooting up his leg.

He lost his footing and plummeted.

From below, the instructor's eyes widened in alarm. "Oh no!" the man whispered, his hands twitching as he prepared to use his gift to catch Elijah.

But Elijah didn't panic.

Years of practicing his gravity manipulation had made him used to falling.

Back in their backyard, he'd spent countless hours tumbling from trees during training. Instinct took over.

As he fell, Elijah gripped the rope tightly, tucking his knees to his chest. With a practiced motion, he executed The Arabian Arc, a daring maneuver that involved a backflip transitioning seamlessly into a frontflip mid-air.

The move wasn't just for show—it allowed him to regain his balance and trajectory.

Gasps echoed throughout the room as he landed smoothly on the glowing steps, his movements now more confident.

"Just like climbing that old oak tree," he muttered, shaking out his sore ankle.

Elijah didn't pause.

As soon as he landed back on the glowing steps, he launched himself upward with renewed determination.

Finally, he reached the ceiling. He grabbed the black flag, holding it triumphantly in his hand. Pausing for a moment, he looked down.

Looking down, he saw everyone staring up at him in stunned silence, including the instructor.

A few cadets' mouths hung open, frozen mid-climb.

Elijah scratched the back of his neck, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. "Great," he thought, cringing internally. "Exactly what I didn't want—attention."

Without wasting time, he prepared to descend.

Instead of climbing down like a normal person, Elijah leaped off the edge, plummeting rapidly toward the ground.

"Wait! What's this kid doing now?" the instructor yelled, his hand glowing as he prepared to activate his gift. "He's going to break every bone in his body!"

But Elijah wasn't worried.

But Elijah had already activated his signature gravity manipulation trick "Featherfall".

It was a skill he'd honed to perfection, allowing him to manipulate gravity around his body to slow his descent to a gentle glide.

His fall slowed dramatically, and he landed softly on the ground, barely stirring the dust around his boots.

As he landed softly on the ground, the room erupted in stunned silence.

A few cadets started clapping, while others stared in awe.

Visconti crossed his arms, smirking. "Show-off," he muttered just loud enough for Elijah to hear.

Elijah scratched his neck again, avoiding everyone's eyes as he handed the flag to the instructor. "Uh… here," he said awkwardly, his voice barely above a whisper.

The instructor blinked, still processing what had just happened. "…Good work," he finally said. "Now… uh… the rest of you, keep practicing."

Elijah quietly returned to the sidelines, hoping the others would forget about his performance as quickly as possible. "Next time," he muttered under his breath, "I'll just aim to be average."