Bolt stood on the rooftop of the academy, the cold night air brushing against his skin as he weighed his decision. Valeon's offer lingered in his mind. Training under someone so powerful could be dangerous, but was it more dangerous than staying weak? His faction needed him to be stronger, especially now that Celestial Tempest had made enemies.
Earlier, Aether had crossed his arms, his voice firm. "You can't trust someone you just met. He might have his own goals."
Akane, on the other hand, had leaned against the wall, watching Bolt carefully. "If he knows how to control your power, this is your best shot. What other choice do you have?"
Bolt had given them no answer then, but now, he clenched his fists and made his decision. He wasn't doing this because of Valeon. He was doing this because power without control was useless.
The academy halls buzzed with tension the next morning. Eyes followed Bolt as he walked through the corridors. Whispers filled the air, rumors spreading like wildfire. Celestial Tempest's victory over Crimson Fang had shaken the balance of power, and the factions were reacting. Some students watched him with curiosity, others with fear, and a few with clear hostility.
A shadow detached from the wall, stepping in front of him. Dante Kain of Obsidian Claw, a faction known for its ruthless tactics, regarded him with a smirk. "You're making enemies, Bolt."
Bolt met his gaze without hesitation. "That's not new."
Dante chuckled, his arms crossed. "That means you're important. But listen up—you're either an ally or an enemy. Choose wisely."
Bolt didn't hesitate. "I already chose."
Dante's smirk didn't falter, but there was something dangerous in his eyes. "Then let's hope you survive long enough to see if it was the right choice."
Bolt didn't look back as he walked away, but he could feel the weight of Dante's gaze on his back.
That night, he made his way to the meeting spot Valeon had chosen. The academy grounds were silent, the moon casting long shadows through the trees. Bolt moved carefully, aware that this could be a trap.
A silver flash cut through the darkness. His instincts screamed, and he twisted just in time to avoid a dagger slicing past his cheek, embedding itself in a tree behind him.
His pulse thundered. He spun, eyes locking onto Valeon, who stood a few feet away, arms folded. His expression was unreadable.
"If you're not ready to die," Valeon said, his voice calm, "you're not ready to be trained."
Bolt's anger flared. "What the hell was that?"
Valeon smirked. "Lesson one. Power means nothing if you can't react. If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead."
Bolt wiped the thin line of blood on his cheek. "Fine," he said, rolling his shoulders. "What's next?"
Valeon's stance didn't change, but something in his eyes sharpened. "Survive."
Bolt barely had time to process the word before Valeon vanished. He didn't see the attack—only felt the impact as a fist slammed into his ribs, sending him skidding across the dirt.
He gasped, struggling to breathe. Valeon didn't give him a second to recover. He was already moving again.
Bolt summoned lightning, his instincts screaming at him to fight back. But before he could release the attack, Valeon was behind him, his grip closing around Bolt's wrist like steel.
"Too slow," Valeon murmured.
Bolt barely had time to register the shift in the air before he was flipped over Valeon's shoulder and slammed into the ground. The impact sent a shockwave of pain through his body. He groaned, trying to push himself up.
Valeon crouched next to him, his voice calm but firm. "You rely too much on your power. That won't work against someone stronger."
Bolt's breathing was ragged. He clenched his fists, frustration burning in his chest. "Then what do you want me to do?"
Valeon studied him for a long moment, then spoke words that sent ice through Bolt's veins.
"Before we begin… there's some
thing you need to know. You're not the only Warborn."