Edward Regret

The air vibrated with the percussive rhythm of Vaishnav's technique-enhanced strikes. Thud-Crunch-Thud! Each blow landed with the sickening finality of a hammer on an anvil, driving Rudra back across the scarred training floor. Dust plumed with every impact. A vicious Iron Willow Thrust slammed into Rudra's crossed forearms, the amplified prana shockwave vibrating through his bones, forcing him to skid another meter, boots grinding against stone. Blood trickled freely from his split lip, his left shoulder screamed from a near-dislocation, and his ribs throbbed with a deep, bruising ache.

Yet, within the storm of pain, Rudra's mind was crystalline, coldly analytical. He's stronger. Faster. More skilled. But… He blocked another whistling kick aimed at his knee, the impact jarring his stance but not breaking it. But his power… it's not crushing me. This fight wasn't about showing off. Not out of arrogance. Not to impress. But to learn.

It was about knowing. He'd ascended too rapidly, vaulting from mortal limits to awakened strength in a dizzying blur. He had grown strong far too quickly, his sudden breakthrough on the Divine Path catching even him off guard.

His body was a fortress he hadn't had time to map. He'd deliberately held back his nascent prana stream, a dam against the internal flood, forcing himself to rely solely on the raw, physical strength ,his dense musculature, the reinforced skeleton, the heightened senses . He needed to feel the limits of the cage before he unleashed what lay within.

And now he knew. Even without prāṇa, his raw physical strength was enough to go toe-to-toe with a Grade 3 Prāṇa Initiate. Vaishnav wasn't winning through sheer overwhelming force; he was winning through skill, through decades of honed technique applied with amplified speed and precision that Rudra, in his inexperience, couldn't fully counter. If Rudra possessed even basic combat forms, a fraction of Vaishnav's experience… the thought was electric. I could beat him. Not just survive. Beat him. The realization wasn't arrogance; it was cold, hard calibration.

The timer in his mind, synced with the pounding of his heart, ticked past three minutes. He'd tested the cage. He'd pushed his flesh to its screaming edge. He knew its contours, its weight, its surprising strength against the torrent. Now… now it was time to open the gate.

Vaishnav lunged again, a Whirling Branch Kick aimed to shatter Rudra's guard. Rudra didn't just block this time. He moved.

Not with desperate evasion, but with a sudden, shocking economy of motion. Simultaneously, deep within, Rudra released the dam.

His prana, a deep, wide stream compared to Vaishnav's turbulent spring, didn't explode. It flowed. With absolute, instinctive control honed by the unique circumstances of his awakening, he directed it. First, a surge to his feet – not a blast, but a reinforcement, a densifying of muscle fiber, a lightning conduction of nerve impulse. He didn't vanish; he simply wasn't there when Vaishnav's heel slammed into the space he'd occupied a microsecond before. The displaced air cracked like a whip.

Vaishnav's eyes widened, not in surprise this time, but in dawning disbelief. Impossible! His speed… it just… doubled? Tripled? Without any aura flare?

Rudra didn't attack immediately. He flowed around Vaishnav's next flurry – a furious combination of Iron Willow Thrusts and chops. Where before he'd been a battered shield, now he was quicksilver. He reinforced his hands and forearms next, the prana weaving into the dense tissue, turning blocks from desperate parries into solid, immovable walls. Vaishnav's knuckles cracked against reinforced bone, sending jolts of unexpected pain up his own arm. A punch Rudra caught on his newly fortified palm didn't just stop; it felt like hitting solid granite. The recoil stung Vaishnav's wrist.

Frustration curdled into something darker in Vaishnav's gut. What is this?! He's… he's matching me? The smooth, disciplined flow of his techniques faltered. He poured more prana into his strikes, the air around his fists shimmering violently, but Rudra was there, reading the telegraphed movements with terrifying new clarity, dodging or deflecting with movements that were suddenly smooth, efficient, terrifyingly fast. The gap in experience was still vast, but Rudra's raw physical speed and power, now amplified and perfectly controlled by his deep prana stream, were rapidly negating it.

Rudra wasn't struggling anymore. He was fending. Effortlessly. He began to counter. Not with techniques, but with sheer, brutal efficiency. A reinforced forearm slammed aside a kick, creating an opening. A fist, imbued with the focused might of his prana-enhanced physique, snapped out like a piston. Vaishnav barely jerked his head back, feeling the wind of its passage scrape his chin.

Panic, cold and unfamiliar, began to seep through Vaishnav's rage. He's toying with me! The thought was a poison dart. Every effortless dodge, every solid block that felt like hitting bedrock, every near-miss counterpunch chipped away at his certainty. The foundation of his superiority – his level, his training, his cultivated aura of unshakeable control – was crumbling beneath the onslaught of this… this monster wearing the guise of a rookie. Distraction, the true enemy in combat, slithered into his mind. Doubts swirled: Did I underestimate him? Is Sir Edward mocking me? Is everyone watching me fail? His next combination was sloppy, telegraphed, driven by fury rather than precision.

Rudra saw the opening instantly. Not a gap in technique, but a fracture in focus. Vaishnav overextended on a wild, frustrated haymaker, his balance momentarily shifting forward. Rudra didn't need a fancy technique. He needed leverage, power, and timing. His prana surged, reinforcing his legs, coiling them like steel springs. It flooded his core, twisting his torso with explosive force. It poured down his right arm, condensing in his fist, turning it into a living battering ram.

He stepped into the overextension. Not away. Into it. His entire body became a single, focused vector of force. His fist, trailing a faint, almost invisible ripple of condensed prana – not a technique, just pure, amplified kinetic energy – connected flush with Vaishnav's jaw.

CRACK!

The sound wasn't just bone meeting bone; it was the sound of pride shattering. Vaishnav's head snapped back with terrifying force. His feet left the ground. For a horrifying, suspended moment, he was sent flying, eyes wide with utter disbelief, mouth slack. He sailed backwards, a ragdoll propelled by impossible force, crashing down five meters away in a skidding, dusty heap.

Silence. Profound, deafening silence. Even the hum of the arena lights seemed to pause.

Vaishnav lay stunned, the world a dizzying blur of pain and shock. His jaw felt like it had been hit by a runaway siege engine. Agony lanced through his skull. He instinctively knew: without the desperate, last-moment shield of prana he'd managed to flare around his jawbone, it would have been powder. He… punched me… into the air… The humiliation was a physical weight, crushing him more effectively than any blow. A guttural roar of pure, incandescent fury began to build in his chest. He scrambled to his knees, prana detonating around him in a chaotic, uncontrolled storm of crimson light. Kill him! I'll kill him!

"That's enough, Vaishnav!"

Edward's voice cut through the rising maelstrom of Vaishnav's rage like a blade of ice. It wasn't loud, but it carried absolute authority, penetrating the haze of pain and fury. He stood between them, his gaze fixed on Vaishnav, but his presence was a palpable wall stopping Rudra's potential counter-charge as well.

"Stand down," Edward commanded, his voice low but brooking no argument. "The test is over. Five minutes are complete." He didn't need to count; his internal clock was precise. He'd seen everything he needed, and far, far more than he'd ever dreamed.

He looked at Vaishnav, kneeling, trembling with rage and humiliation, blood dripping from his mouth. Edward's earlier shock was now tempered with sharp regret and profound concern. I pushed too hard. I underestimated Rudra catastrophically. He'd checked Rudra's file – the mortal who fought a Grade One to a draw. He'd anticipated strength, resilience, maybe lasting a minute or two against Vaishnav with prana. He had not anticipated a physical powerhouse who could fight a Third-Level without prana, nor the sheer, terrifying depth of the prana stream that lay dormant within him. He'd expected a promising seedling; he'd unleashed a demon.

This could break Vaishnav, Edward thought grimly. The humiliation of being not just matched, but flattened by a raw First-Level, in front of witnesses… it was a blow that could shatter a warrior's spirit, cripple their future path. And the Academy, already straining under the weight of external threats and internal politics, desperately needed every talented Initiate it had. I must speak with him. Immediately. Before this festers.

But beneath the concern for Vaishnav surged an undeniable, almost frightening exhilaration. He turned his gaze towards Rudra. The young man stood breathing heavily, sweat and blood mingling on his face, but his eyes… his eyes burned with a fierce, untamed light. He radiated power, not just physical, but the potent, controlled energy of his awakened prana stream, now a visible, deep blue shimmer around him, steady as a river's current.

Not a genius, Edward reaffirmed silently, the thought thrumming with awe. A force of nature. A monster the likes of which these halls have never cradled. He had sought a capable soldier; he had found a potential titan. The path ahead would be treacherous, for Rudra, for the Academy, and for Vaishnav's wounded pride. But in that moment, amidst the dust and the echoes of violence, Edward saw not just an ending, but a terrifying, exhilarating beginning. The crucible had been survived. The monster had awakened. And nothing would ever be the same.