The first two weeks at the Academy were brutal.
Not due to the training, despite how it drained my stamina to a exhausting degree. No, the real challenge was navigating the social minefield of being a three year old in a class full of five to seven year olds who thought I was a joke.
"Move it, baby Kaine," one kid Drovik, a hulking blue kid with arms like tree trunks—shoved past me in the hallway.
It's not like I could do anything back so I just kept walking.
In the ring, there were weight classes for a reason. Fighting someone twice your size was suicide. Not like you had a choice in a real fight. So I did what I'd always done when I was outmatched simply walk away for another day of training.
Mr. Korvax's class which in human terms where two bells, focused on fundamentals. Every day, we'd spend hours lifting objects, some of the more skilled students seemed to take it upon themselves to also curl the object, but they were for a lack of a better term, all ego lifters.
"Psionics is about raw power," he'd lecture, pacing in front of the class. "A master can move a mountain with a thought, but a fool will exhaust themselves trying to lift pebbles. Focus on the heaviest object you can lift."
I took his words to heart. At how ridiculous that was, this was a genius race who didn't know the basics of biology it was almost a balance in a sense.
While the other kids were busy showing off, trying to lift the biggest objects they could, I focused on the smallest. Feathers. Coins. Screws. I'd lift multiple at a time and hold them perfectly still, sometimes for minutes at a time.
I could tell my concentration was straining once I got to three so I typically started there.
"You're getting better," someone said.
Lyssara a more greenish nerd Xian one day during lunch started sitting with me.
"Your endurance is improving."
"Yeah, well, I can't exactly compete with the big stuff yet," I said, nodding toward Drovik, who was currently bench pressing a big rock with his mind while flexing for the girls at his table.
"Drovik's an idiot. Even if you can't compete with him he'll never get anywhere with his brain. Watch."
As if on cue, Drovik's concentration slipped. The boulder wobbled, then crashed down onto the table, splintering it in half. Food went flying. Kids screamed.
Mr. Korvax who'd been walking by appeared instantly, his antennae crackling with anger. "DROVIK! MY OFFICE! NOW!"
Lyssara smirked. "See? Power means nothing if you can't even control it."
She had a point, but it was odd that the nerds seemingly only knew that but jocks didn't.
I could only shake my head at that, but today was an important day for every student. A real turning point for us first years came, our first combat simulation.
Earlier the majority of the class seemed to beam at the thought but the minimum amount of nerds in my class where clearly unimpressed by such a declaration, I believed the reason many nerds didn't attend the school was primarily because it focused on jock Xians mostly.
Me and Lyssara had entered the room our primary teacher had told us to go to after lunch had finished and entering a regal looking man with extra long antennae and purple lab coat stood in front of us.
"Psionic dueling is an essential skill," Professor Roade announced, standing in the center of the training arena. "In the real world, outside of our planet, you will face individuals who want to harm you. You must be able to defend yourself."
The arena was a circular platform surrounded by some kinda energy barriers. Two students would enter, and using only telekinesis and environmental objects, they'd try to knock each other out of the ring or into submission.
No physical contact was permitted, Psionics only.
"We'll start with some demonstration matches," Roades said. "Volunteers?"
Every hand in the class shot up.
Except mine.
I wasn't stupid. I was still one of the weakest kids here. the only one weaker was Lyssara. Going up against anyone at this point would be a slaughter.
But apparently, fate had other plans.
"Drovik," Korvax called. "You're up first."
Drovik swaggered into the arena, cracking his knuckles even though it was a psionic fight.
"And your opponent will be..." Roade's eyes scanned the room and landed on me. "Radicles."
My stomach dropped.
"What?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.
"You've been here two weeks, Radicles. It's time to see what you can do under some pressure."
"But he's three!" Lyssara protested. "That's not fair!"
"Life isn't fair," Roades said simply. "The Council won't care about age when you're defending your home. Radicles, to the arena."
I stood slowly, clearly he was trying to demonstrate how unfair life was but at my expense.
Drovik was grinning like a shark. "This is gonna be fun."
I stepped onto the platform, and the energy barrier hummed to life around us. The rest of the class gathered around, watching with a mix of excitement and pity.
"Rules are simple," Korvax said. "First one to leave the ring or submit loses. Begin!"
Drovik didn't waste not even a second.
energy formed around him and muscles buldging appeared. A big chunk of debris, probably a hundred pounds, was launched at me like a missile.
I dove to the side, rolling across the arena as the debris smashed into the barrier behind me with a deafening crack.
The class gasped.
"What's wrong, baby?" Drovik taunted. "Too slow?"
He wipped one of the broken piece of debris. Then another.
I dodged, I could only scrambled. My toddler body was screaming, despite my muscle memory from my past life kicking in. With some light footwork and head movements I weaved past the shots zooming past me.
This was in a way not different from boxing. Using everything you have into and attack and using everything not to get hit. Just less rules.
But I couldn't just dodge forever.
I needed to strike back.
I focused on the smallest object I could find the crushed rock, now a handful of pebbles scattered across the platform. Lifting them with my mind, I sent them flying at Drovik's face.
He blocked them easily, guarding his face and laughing. "That's your best shot?"
But while he was distracted, I grabbed a larger rock about the size of a softball and whipped it at his ankles.
He didn't see it coming and with his proportion he was undoubtably top heavy.
The rock connected with a satisfying thunk. Drovik yelped, stumbling backward, his concentration breaking. The debris he'd been subtlying waiting to launch in secret crashed to the ground with a sizable thunk.
I didn't let up grabbing more rocks, more pebbles, sending them in rapid succession with jabs of my own arms, not at his body, but at his feet, his legs, anywhere that would break his balance.
Drovik tried to recover, but I'd learned something important: he was strong, but slow. And in a distanced fight, speed would beat power almost every time.
it was lucky of me he hadn't learned to fly yet, although extremely uncommon even among adults, I knew this kid was a prodigy beyond his age.
One more rock to the shin, and Drovik went down hard.
He landed on his back, wheezing, his antennae flickering weakly.
"Match over," Roades said. "Winner: Radicles Kaine."
The arena erupted.
Half the class was cheering at the shocking win, and others a few looked disinterested.
I stood there, panting, my whole body shaking from the weight of the rocks and exhaustion.
Drovik glared at me from the ground. "You got lucky."
"Maybe," I said, offering him a hand. "But I still won."
He stared at my hand for a long moment, then took it, letting me help him up. , since he outweighed me by like sixty pounds I was almost sat to the floor but still managed to pick him up.
As I walked off the platform, Lyssara was grinning.
"Told you," she said.
Professor Roades approached, his expression unreadable. "Radicles. A word."
I followed him to the side of the arena, away from the other students.
"That was to reckless," he said quietly.
"I won," I pointed out.
"You did. But you exhausted yourself in the process. If there had been a second opponent, you'd have been helpless." His antennae dimmed slightly. "You seem to have a bit of experience. Where did you learn those tactics?"
I paused, but answered
"Just... instinct, I guess."
Roades seemed to be a skeptic but nodded slowly. "Instinct. Right. Well, your instincts are sharp. But you need to take your opponent out as soon as possible. Psionic combat isn't marathon it's a sprint. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Now go rest. You look like you're about to pass out."
He wasn't entirely wrong. Though I'd be taking his advice with a grain of salt.
That night, Theodosia practically tackled me when I got home.
"I HEARD! Your professor told me you beat A seven year-old! On your first match!"
"Technically, yeah I d—"
"MY SON IS A CHAMPION!"
Olfang appeared in the doorway, looking equal parts proud and concerned. "Are you hurt?"
"Just tired."
"Good. Because we need to talk about your training regimen. If you're going to keep competing, we need to build your strength and endurance. Your mind is ahead of your body, Radicles. We need to balance that."
Olfred seemed to fully embrace this new school life.
"Does that mean—"
"Yes," Olfang said, sighing. "Theodosia gets to train you now."
Theodosia pumped her fist. "YES! We start tomorrow! Five a.m.! Cardio, strength training, flexibility—"
I groaned, already dreading the morning, I wasn't fond of accidentally overtraining, I often did so in my previous life and it never ended well.
But as I lay in bed that night, I felt my achievement as I did with all my fights.
Sure, it was against a seven year-old with more muscle than brains. And sure, I'd nearly passed out afterward.
But I'd won, as a former champion I had to keep my streak up.