The old sparring dome looked different after three weeks of hell.
The broken tiles, the shattered holo-lights, the torn fabrics fluttering from the rafters — they no longer looked like ruins.
They looked like a graveyard of lessons.
And today, one more would be buried here.
Eghosa stood barefoot on the cracked floor, sweat already running down her spine even though the sun had barely risen.
Trisha stretched beside her, jaw tight, her sword strapped lightly across her back.
Everything felt unusually silent.
Even the birds avoided the dome this morning.
Then his voice came.
Theran Solace walked in with the calmness of someone who didn't need to announce danger. Danger radiated from him on its own.
Red hair tied back, eyes sharp, shirt tossed over his shoulder, muscles carved like they'd been grown for war.
"Today," he said, dropping his bag, "we see reality."
Eghosa's heart thudded.
Trisha crossed her arms, pretending not to care — but the subtle shift in her stance betrayed her tension.
Theran looked at them with the same expression a predator gives prey it respects enough to hunt properly.
"You two…" he said, circling slowly, "…have improved."
Eghosa's chest warmed.
Three weeks ago, she could barely handle nine minutes on the treadmill.
Yesterday, she hit twenty-four.
In the pressure tank, she could now descend far deeper without her lungs giving out.
She earned that praise.
But Theran wasn't smiling.
"However," he continued, letting the word hang heavy in the air, "progress is meaningless if you don't understand difference."
He stopped walking.
"Today, you fight me."
Trisha scoffed. "We know. You've been hyping it since yesterday."
"No," he said, eyes narrowing. "You misunderstand.
You're not fighting me to win.
You're fighting me to survive."
Eghosa swallowed.
Trisha raised a brow. "Survive what? You're just one person, Theran."
For the first time, he smiled — and it wasn't friendly.
"Exactly."
He lifted a hand and pointed at them.
"Both of you. Together.
All out.
No restraint."
Eghosa blinked.
Trisha lost her smirk.
Together?
Against him?
She slowly understood — this wasn't arrogance. It was a lesson.
Because Theran truly believed he could beat them both at once.
He stepped back, cracking his neck.
"You asked me why you should run," he said quietly. "I will now show you."
He vanished.
Eghosa barely saw movement — only a blur.
Wind slammed against her face, and then —
"MOVE!" Trisha shouted, dragging Eghosa aside as a kick cratered the spot she had been standing on.
The ground split under Theran's foot.
Eghosa's breath froze.
That wasn't a normal strike.
That wasn't anything human.
Trisha unsheathed her sword with both hands. "Don't blank out now! We fight!"
Eghosa snapped out of it and charged from the left as Trisha attacked from the right.
Theran didn't even turn.
He tilted his head slightly.
Trisha's blade swung —
—and he caught it with two fingers.
Two.
She pulled, teeth clenched, but the sword didn't move an inch.
He looked at her with amusement.
"Your stance is better. But your courage is still useless."
Then he flicked his fingers.
The sword flew out of Trisha's hand like it had been snatched by a tornado, spinning across the dome and embedding deep into a wall.
Trisha stumbled back, shocked.
Eghosa's fist came from behind him, aimed at his neck — a decisive, survival-driven strike.
He blocked it without looking.
He didn't even move his arm.
Her knuckles hit his forearm and pain exploded through her entire hand.
He turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze.
"Better," he said. "But still too slow."
He shoved her with one finger.
One.
Eghosa flew back three meters, rolling across the cracked floor.
She gasped, breath knocked from her lungs.
Trisha ran to her — "Eghosa!" — but Theran was already behind her.
"How many times must I say it?" he asked, voice calm. "Your opponent is not waiting for your friendship moment."
Trisha spun, elbow swinging — but he caught her wrist and flipped her effortlessly over his shoulder.
She smashed into the ground with a cry.
Eghosa staggered up, bruised, dizzy, but angry.
This wasn't a spar.
This was a lesson in despair.
"Why… why are you this strong?" she breathed.
Theran looked at her, and for a moment something almost human flickered behind his eyes.
"Because I train every day like I am preparing to kill a god."
He stepped forward.
"And you train like you're preparing to impress classmates."
The words struck harder than his blows.
He lunged at her — impossibly fast — and she barely dodged, rolling aside.
Trisha tackled him from behind, wrapping her arms around his neck in a chokehold.
"Got you!" Trisha yelled.
He didn't even bother trying to shake her off.
"You're learning teamwork," he said. "Good."
He elbowed her ribs once.
Trisha crumpled without a sound.
Eghosa screamed. "THERAN, STOP!"
He turned to her.
"Or what?"
His eyes glowed faintly crimson — like embers under ash.
In her chest something cracked open.
Pride?
Fear?
Resolve?
She charged again.
He stepped aside effortlessly — but this time she didn't aim for him.
She grabbed a loose tile from the ground and used it as a platform to vault upward — flipping behind him, striking at his blind spot.
He blocked her of course — but he had to turn to do it.
A small thing.
But he moved.
For the first time.
His eyes widened a fraction.
"…You improvised mid-movement."
Eghosa panted, chest burning, ribs aching.
"So?" she spat.
"I. Won't. Run."
He looked almost proud.
Almost.
Then he punched her in the stomach.
The world disappeared.
Eghosa collapsed to her knees, choking on air that refused to enter her lungs.
Her vision blurred.
Her ears rang.
But she didn't fall.
She stayed there, kneeling, forcing her breath to return.
Theran watched her.
He nodded once.
"That," he said softly, "ome day you would laugh at those words."
He offered her a hand.
His palm was warm, steady.
She stared at it, then at him, then placed her shaking hand in his.
He pulled her up gently this time.
Trisha groaned in the distance. "He… hits like a truck."
Theran smirked. "That wasn't hitting. That was restraint."
Eghosa wiped her face, sweat and tears mixing.
"Did we… lose?"
"You survived longer than expected," he said. "But yes. You lost."
He looked at both of them, gaze fierce but sincere.
"But now you understand the gap.
And next time… there would be no next time."
Eghosa clenched her fists.
Her body hurt.
Her pride hurt.
But something inside her was burning — sharper than pain, hotter than humiliation.
Not despair.
Determination.
Trisha pushed herself up from the cracked floor, clutching her ribs with one hand and her temper with the other.
Theran was still giving Eghosa his whole dramatic "gap in power" speech when Trisha's voice cut through the air like a thrown dagger:
"Theran Solace, are you mad?"
He turned, confused. "What?"
She marched toward him, one hand on her hip, the other pointing straight at his forehead.
"You tried to KILL us! That's what!"
Eghosa blinked.
Theran blinked back, as if she had just accused him of cooking with too much salt.
"What are you talking about?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.
"I barely used ten percent."
"TEN PERCENT!?" Trisha shrieked, voice cracking.
"Theran, you elbowed me so hard I briefly saw my ancestors forming a welcome party!"
Theran looked at her ribs. "You'll be fine in ten minutes."
"That's not the point!"
She gestured wildly, limping forward as she scolded him.
"You told us we were here to train endurance, not reenact ancient gladiator executions! Which part of 'teaching' includes launching my sword into orbit? Hm?!"
He opened his mouth to reply, but Trisha cut him off immediately.
"And don't even start with your 'this is realistic combat' explanation. Realistic combat my foot! If you had hit Eghosa's stomach any harder, her future children would have felt it!"
Theran stared at Eghosa's bent posture, hand still clutching her abdomen.
"Hm. Maybe I was too gentle," he muttered.
"WHAT!?" Trisha screamed.
Eghosa wheezed one word: "Please… don't encourage him…"
But Trisha wasn't done. She marched right into Theran's space, poking his chest with each word.
"You. Need. To. CONTROL. Your. POWER."
He looked down at her. "I did control it."
Trisha rolled her eyes so hard Eghosa thought they would pop out.
"Theran, you almost created a crater where my spine used to be!"
He paused.
"…A small crater."
"A CRATER IS A CRATER!"
She shoved his chest — which didn't move an inch — then threw her hands up dramatically.
"If this is how you teach, no wonder you don't have any friends except broken tiles and abandoned treadmills!"
Theran frowned, offended. He looked around at the broken dome.
"These tiles understand me."
"OH MY GOD," Trisha groaned, massaging her forehead.
"You are a menace. A well-built, red-haired, muscled menace."
Theran smirked slightly. "So you think I'm well-built?"
Trisha froze.
Eghosa immediately looked up, sensing danger.
Trisha stumbled over her next words, face flushing.
"I—I—That's—not—Don't twist my—UGH!"
She stomped away, muttering curses in three different languages.
Theran watched her go, a predator watching a rabbit that thinks it escaped.
He leaned toward Eghosa and whispered—
"She likes me."
Eghosa coughed.
"No… she wants to kill you."
Theran shrugged. "Same thing."
She whispered,
"One day… I'll surpass even you."
Theran smirked.
"Good.You'll surpasses this, but you'll never surpass me."
Eghosa's eyes hardened.
"we would see about that stay at the top of the food chain for now."
Theran's grin widened — for the first time, actually impressed.
"We'll see."
And that was how the spar ended.
Not with victory.
But with a vow.