The training arena hummed with energy long before Om, Dev, and Dawon entered. Sunlight streamed through high, reinforced windows, glinting off the polished floor and casting long streaks of gold across the open space. Trainee inheritors paused mid-drill, their chatter softening as whispers rippled through the room.
"Om and Dev are challenging Captain Bhanu…"
"He doesn't even use weapons. They're insane."
"You'll see mastery today, not just strength."
Dawon padded quietly into the corner of the arena, golden eyes scanning the crowd and the ring with cautious curiosity. The lion's tail flicked, muscles tensing in anticipation. He had seen Om fight before — and he had seen what Dev could do — but he had never witnessed someone like Bhanu. The presence of the instructor radiated calm authority, an invisible weight that seemed to bend the very air.
At the center of the arena, Bhanu stood waiting. Dressed in simple black training garb, sleeves rolled, his posture relaxed. No weapons. No armor. Yet there was an unmistakable gravity about him — the kind that made a casual observer feel off-balance without realizing why.
Om approached, shoulders squared, Dev flanking slightly behind him, hands tightening around his claymore. Bhanu tilted his head, eyes narrowing faintly.
"You're challenging me?" His voice was calm, almost conversational, but it carried in the hall like a bell.
"Friendly spar," Om replied evenly. "We want to test ourselves."
Bhanu's lips curved in a faint smile. "Very well. I hope you're ready to learn."
The murmurs of trainees rose into a buzz. Even the tutors paused to watch — whispers of awe traveling like electricity. "He's going to dismantle them," someone said. "But it'll be beautiful to see."
"Begin," the referee called, though Bhanu had already subtly shifted the arena's space.
Dev surged forward first, charging with a wild, flaming swing of his claymore, while Om moved to the flank, aiming a Seismic Drum strike from above.
But the moment Dev's blade should have met Bhanu's chest, the world bent.
The floor beneath Bhanu seemed to stretch sideways, compressing distances in strange pockets. Dev's swing passed through what looked like empty air — and Bhanu, standing perfectly still, tapped the side of his foot lightly on the mat. Dev stumbled, the claymore dragging against the ground as if it had struck a hidden anchor.
Om's downward strike was next. He leapt, fist glowing, intending to crush the instructor. The distance between them warped mid-leap. His momentum carried him forward, but the strike landed harmlessly three meters off to the side. Bhanu's hand barely moved — yet the punch failed to connect.
"You're thinking in straight lines," Bhanu said, calm. "I live in curves."
Zero buzzed in Om's mind.
[Target compresses distances. Spatial vectors are being actively rewritten in real-time.]
Om adjusted mid-air, twisting violently to compensate, barely landing on his feet.
Dawon's ears twitched. Even from his corner, he felt the subtle distortions in space — the way Bhanu's presence made the arena itself feel alive, unpredictable.
The trainees around the ring leaned forward, jaws dropping.
"He folded the space around them…"
"No, he's bending their attack paths."
"That's… that's impossible!"
Even the older inheritors, who had trained under Bhanu before, whispered with awe. Dawon's tail swished once. The lion knew instinctively — this was no ordinary teacher. This was a master who didn't just react, he preempted physics itself.
Om and Dev regrouped, eyes meeting in a silent understanding.
"On my mark," Om whispered.
Dev nodded, energy flaring in his veins. This time, they attacked in tandem — Om feinting high and left, Dev lunging low and right.
Bhanu's eyes flickered briefly — recognition. He hadn't expected coordination at this level.
For a moment, space resisted him. Distortions had to bend faster, fold deeper, compress more precisely. Om and Dev pressed, forcing him to exert his power subtly but measurably.
Bhanu's internal thought was rare, but he allowed it: They've improved. Quick thinking. Persistent. A hint of potential… maybe worth testing fully.
He sidestepped Om's strike, compressing the space behind him, and deflected Dev's lunge with the tiniest adjustment in gravity. Both fighters staggered slightly, feeling the strain of countering invisible distortions.
The crowd gasped. Even trainees who had seen Bhanu fight dozens of times leaned closer, unable to look away.
Bhanu suddenly expanded a wedge of the arena's space, creating a pocket where gravity felt slightly weaker, distances stretched. Om's Seismic Drum pulse misfired into the pocket. Dev's claymore swung, slowed, and curved as if carried by invisible wind.
"You need to feel the space around you,"Bhanu said aloud, softly enough for only them to hear. "Not just react — anticipate the geometry."
Zero's calculations buzzed in Om's mind,
[Spatial vectors are shifting dynamically; predictability is low but detectable. Feed off distortion.]
Om realized instinctively: the fight wasn't about landing a hit. It was about perceiving space itself.
Om feinted toward the left, drawing Bhanu into a subtle fold. Dev seized the moment, rotating mid-lunge, swinging his claymore through what he thought was empty air. The blade grazed the edge of a spatial pocket. For a heartbeat, Bhanu's defenses faltered — the space fold compressed unevenly, almost leaving a gap.
Almost, Bhanu thought. A faint grin curved his lips. Not bad. Clever.
He twisted space again, swapping the positions of Om and Dev by a fraction of a second. Om's momentum carried him forward into Dev's path.
Dev barely avoided a collision. Bhanu's strike — just a tap of his hand — sent both tumbling apart.
The crowd erupted in low, awed gasps. Even Dawon leaned forward, tail flicking, muscles taut. He sensed the subtle teaching embedded in each move — the master guiding, not punishing.
Bhanu's next move was subtle: he compressed the floor beneath Om and Dev in alternating pulses. Every step they took felt slightly off, forcing recalibration. Attacks slowed, misaligned. Every swing, every step, required perfect timing to compensate for shifting distances.
Om adjusted, counting beats between the pulses, whispering rhythmically to Dev. They attacked in sync. For a brief moment, their strikes lined up. The claymore and Seismic Drum pulse converged toward Bhanu — a near-perfect strike.
For a single instant, Bhanu's eyes widened fractionally. He had to compress space more aggressively, warp trajectories in real time. Om and Dev almost scored a hit.
Almost.
A subtle bend in the air sent both crashing to the ground. Om's side scraped the polished floor, Dev barely caught himself before hitting hard.
Bhanu landed gracefully between them, offering a hand. "Good," he murmured. "You're learning. Keep your awareness sharp. Every fold, every compression, is a lesson in perception."
They rose, exhausted but determined. Om and Dev synchronized fully — Om providing rapid feints, Dev channeling energy into his swings. Every attack aimed to probe, distract, and trap. Bhanu's calm smile never faltered.
The arena became a storm of motion. Space folded unpredictably; distance compressed and expanded; their attacks curved unnaturally. Om could feel the strain in his muscles, Dev's breathing ragged. Each feint they threw forced Bhanu to react — yet he adapted instantly, anticipating even their cleverest combination.
Finally, Bhanu expanded the space in a controlled burst, compressing the arena floor beneath Om and Dev. Momentum betrayed them — both slipped, staggered, and fell hard. Bhanu approached, compressing the last gap so they couldn't rise immediately.
"Enough," he said, voice calm. "You've learned what I intended."
Both Om and Dev lay on the floor, chests heaving, muscles screaming. The referee called it.
"Victory — Captain Bhanu."
The crowd erupted, awe and applause mingling with murmurs of disbelief. "He didn't even touch a weapon," one trainee said. "Every move… perfect."
Dawon padded forward, observing Bhanu carefully. The lion's eyes gleamed with respect, understanding that this wasn't just strength — this was mastery of the very space around them.
Bhanu offered quiet, approving glances toward Om and Dev.
"Master Om is a different thing but Dev's potential is also very high." he thought.
"Determination is strong. Both will bend the space they occupy one day — but not yet."
Om rose slowly, wiping sweat from his brow.
Dev grinned, shaking his head. "He's impossible."
"You learned a lot," Om said quietly, acknowledging the subtle lessons embedded in the fight.
Bhanu nodded once, almost imperceptibly.
"Remember — my mastery of space inheritance isn't just about offense. It's control, perception, and patience. You'll have many opportunities to practice your own inheritances."
"But both of you didn't use your inheritance like last time." Curious asked Bhanu.
Om and Dev both laughed and ignored Bhanu's question.
Dawon curled into a relaxed ball, tail flicking once. He had seen the gap between master and apprentice — and the potential of his Master.
And for Om, the defeat was not shame but fuel — a reminder of how much farther there was to climb.