Chapter 45 - Lancelot's thoughts

After the biology class, we had combat training with Lancelot.

Thankfully, 1-A wasn't joining us today—instead, it was 1-C. I couldn't help but feel a small wave of relief.

Afterall the last thing I needed was another run-in with Theodore. That guy was a walking headache.

Not to mention with these nightmares about Liza resurfacing, I really didn't want to face him.

Anyway back to it. Today's sparring session was a bit different.

Lancelot had given us the green light to use our powers in combat, which meant things were about to get intense.

My training partner for the day was Trevor Benson, a guy from C class whose power was fire.

He was already stretching, his hands crackling with small flames as he warmed up.

I unfurled my wings just enough to use them as extra limbs, the feathers glinting faintly under sun.

We squared off, and the spar began.

Trevor came at me first, launching a stream of fire in my direction.

I dodged, using my wings to propel myself to the side and counter with a quick slash of my katana.

Oh yeah we were also allowed our main weapons. Well a blunter version of them but still.

Trevor blocked it with a flaming arm, the heat radiating off him in waves. We traded blows, the sound of clashing metal and crackling fire filling the area.

Trevor was good—really good. His control over his flames was impressive, and he used them both offensively and defensively.

But I had my wings, and I wasn't about to let him get the upper hand. I used them to maneuver around him, striking from unexpected angles and keeping him on his toes.

*************

Lancelot stood at the edge of the training grounds, his sharp eyes scanned the area, taking in the sight of teenagers wielding powers that would've been unimaginable just a few generations ago.

The thought that crossed his mind was simple, yet profound: 'Monsters. They're all monsters'.

He couldn't help but recall an article he'd read years ago, one published long before he was born.

It had predicted that Terra would only grow stronger with each generation, that the children of the future would be more powerful, more monstrous, than those who came before.

At the time, it had seemed like speculation, but now, standing here, Lancelot couldn't deny the truth of it.

Among the first-year cadets, almost half of them already displayed strength and skill comparable to First Class soldiers—and they were only sixteen.

Most of them had only received proper training after turning fifteen, the age at which the implant was typically injected.

Of course some received theirs before turning fifteen but this wasn't advisable.

Why? Because of how the implant worked.

The implant worked by integrating nanobots into the user's nervous system, allowing them to sync with the nano-tech suits and enhance their physical and mental capabilities.

However, the process of integration was highly invasive and required the body to be mature enough to handle the strain.

For children under fifteen, the risk of neurological damage or even death was significantly higher.

Their bodies and brains were still developing, and the implant could disrupt that process in catastrophic ways.

As for those without superpowers, the risks were even higher.

The implant was designed to amplify existing abilities, and without a natural power to anchor it, the device could overload the user's system, leading to catastrophic results.

It was why the military and the ruling families waited until they were older and stronger before giving them the implant.

But now, looking at these cadets, Lancelot couldn't help but feel a mix of awe and unease.

They were strong—too strong. Many of them could already contend with First Class soldiers, and they were only just beginning their training.

It was a feat that was both impressive and terrifying.

He sighed, running a hand through his golden hair. "No doubt," he muttered to himself, "from this generation, there will be more than ten Class Seven soldiers."

A thought that was both exhilarating and exhausting.

After all, there were currently only ten people on the level of Class Seven soldiers in the entire federation.

And if the cadets he was watching now were any indication, that number was only going to grow.

Lancelot shook his head, a small, tired smile playing on his lips. "Monsters," he muttered under his breath. "Every last one of you."