Challenge

Without warning, he moved. One moment, he was standing in front of Thor. The next, he was behind him. A sharp crack echoed through the hall as Kayvaan's knee drove into the back of Thor's skull. The massive warrior collapsed face-first into the ground. The room was silent. Kayvaan turned to the others.

 "Anyone else want to test me?" No one moved. Satisfied, he crossed his arms. "Good. Now listen up." His voice carried through the hall, authoritative and unwavering. "From today forward, I am your instructor. You will call me Captain Kayvaan. Or Mentor. Or Sir. I don't care which—but you will follow my orders. Fail to do so, and you will regret it." His gaze swept over them. "You've all been chosen because you're the best. But understand this—being the best here means nothing. You are nothing compared to what true warriors are capable of." A pause. Then, in a quieter tone: "But that can change." He stepped forward. "You want glory? You want to stand in the halls of heroes? Then earn it. And if you can't—leave now." 

A voice hesitated from the ranks. "Sir... what exactly did you do to him?"

Kayvaan barely glanced at the speaker. "If you wish to speak, raise your hand and request permission. That is the first rule."

The room was still. Then, after a pause, Lancelot—his expression dark—forced himself to swallow his pride. "Sir, permission to speak."

"Granted."

"Is Thor going to be alright?"

"If you're asking whether he'll live, then yes. He's just experiencing some temporary... disorientation. Though he may have some difficulty hearing in one ear from now on." Kayvaan's sharp gaze scanned the room, noting the warriors' stiff postures and the way they avoided looking at the unconscious northerner. "I know none of you actually care about Thor's well-being," he continued. "What you really want to know is how I took him down so effortlessly. But it doesn't matter if I explain it to you. What I used just now was not an ordinary strike. The shape of my palm, the angle of my strike, the speed—it's all technique. The movement I used was a precision strike aimed at disrupting the pressure balance in his inner ear. In simple terms, I shattered his eardrum without even needing force."

The warriors stared at him blankly. Kayvaan sighed. "Right… you lot probably don't even know what an eardrum is."

Still, the warriors remained silent. Even the more learned among them weren't entirely sure of what he meant. "Think of it like this," he explained, tapping his temple. "Inside your ear, there's a thin membrane. When sound waves hit it, your brain translates that into what you hear. If that membrane—your eardrum—is ruptured, you lose your hearing in that ear. More importantly, it throws off your entire sense of balance. That's why Thor dropped like a sack of bricks. Without equilibrium, even the strongest warrior will fall."

Thor groaned on the ground, clutching his head, blood still seeping from his ear. Kayvaan glanced down at him and smirked. "Don't look so worried, Thor. You've got two ears. You're only half-deaf."

Some of the warriors shifted uncomfortably, but their eyes held unmistakable curiosity. They weren't just impressed—they wanted to know more. "When I struck his eardrum, I disrupted his ability to stand. That's one way to disable an enemy, but there are countless others. You think strength wins battles? Strength is nothing without precision. The human body is full of weaknesses—exploitable openings just waiting for someone skilled enough to take advantage of them."

Kayvaan's boot nudged Thor's chest. "The heart. A well-placed strike, and you're dead before you hit the ground." His foot moved to Thor's neck. "The throat. A precise cut and all the armor in the world won't save you." Then, lower. "The groin. Strike here, and even a warlord will curl up and weep like a babe." He moved again, pressing lightly at the lower back. "The kidneys. A single heavy blow, and the pain alone will cripple even the toughest opponent."

Kayvaan continued listing vital points—the spine, the arteries, the joints—all the weak spots that no amount of muscle or armor could fully protect. Thor, still reeling, lay there motionless, enduring the demonstration like a helpless training dummy. "These vulnerabilities exist in every human body. You. Me. Everyone here." Kayvaan's voice was calm, measured. "A human is a complex structure, but the more intricate something is, the easier it is to break. It only takes one failure, one shattered link, to bring the whole system crashing down. Understanding this is the difference between fighting like a wild animal and fighting like a warrior." He let the words sink in before delivering the final blow to their egos. "The battles you've seen so far? They weren't real fights. They were just wild beasts clawing at each other. Or, worse—children playing at war." His gaze swept across the assembled warriors. "Do you want to learn how to actually fight?" His voice dropped slightly. "Because if you do, I can teach you."

A brief silence. Then, someone stepped forward.

"Instructor, permission to speak."

"Granted."

"You're strong. That much is clear. But who are you, really?" The warrior's voice was wary. "You weren't trained by the Holy See, and no one here has heard of you. What's your purpose?"

Kayvaan exhaled through his nose, a small, amused scoff. "You lot are worried about conspiracies?" He shook his head. "Listen carefully: you are nothing but a pack of barely trained animals. Why in the Emperor's name would I waste my time plotting against you? There's nothing here worth scheming over." A few of the warriors bristled at the insult, but Kayvaan continued before they could speak. "And judging by your faces, that stings, doesn't it?" His tone remained cool. "That's good. Now, let's settle this the proper way—through combat. I don't expect you to take my word for anything. I'll let you feel the difference instead."

As if on cue, a warrior burst from the ranks, rage burning in his eyes. He lunged at Kayvaan without hesitation. Kayvaan barely blinked. His foot lashed out in a blur. The warrior was airborne before he even understood what had happened. He flew over ten meters before crashing hard against the frozen ground, rolling limply before coming to a stop. Kayvaan dusted off his boots and turned back to the rest of the group. "Are we done with the doubts?" His voice was still utterly calm. "Or do you all want a turn?"

Silence. Then, he smirked. "Tell you what—I'll give you a chance. Go put on your best armor. Pick up your weapons. Gather your courage. When you're ready, all of you—every last one of you—come at me together." His smirk turned into a challenge. "If you work together, maybe, just maybe, you'll have a one-in-a-thousand chance of victory."