The next morning, Quin woke up in Vorden's bed, only to find the room empty.
"Where did he go?" Quin muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Didn't he come back last night?"
After washing up, his gaze fell on the stack of ability books neatly laid out before him—Water, Wind, Earth, Teleportation, Telekinesis.
"Hmm," he mumbled, picking one up and flipping through the pages. "If I'd joined the military, I would've gone with Earth… but Telekinesis sounds interesting too."
Then he remembered. The book my parents left me…
He pulled it from his bag, placed it on the table, and tried to open it. No matter how hard he tried, the cover wouldn't budge. With a frustrated sigh, he set it aside. "Guess that's fate. Looks like I'll have to learn something else."
After breakfast, he ran into Vicky in the hall. She had an unsettling grin on her face.
"Since you're my brothers' guest," she said, "why don't you and I have a spar? When we fought the other day, you didn't strike me as much of a fighter. But don't worry—I'll make you one."
Quin didn't like the sound of that, it only sounded to him like she was going to enjoy what she started yesterday, but this time there was no Vorden to stop her. "Uh… okay, but do you know where Vorden is?"
"Grandpa took him on a mission. He wouldn't let me come, though he even too my brother so… you're my stand-in. Now follow me."
----
Brock stood at the edge of the training room, shaking his head. Watching Vicky fight was like watching a storm tear apart a helpless tree. He almost wished her brother Pai had stayed behind—at least he might have kept her in check.
Quin was a wreck. His lip was split; his arms and legs covered in swelling the size of golf balls. He could barely keep his stance, every breath sending sharp reminders of the beating he'd taken.
Why is this happening to me? he thought. He'd been bullied enough in school, and now this? All he'd expected was a friendly spar—something light. Instead, it was torture.
Vicky's attacks were relentless. She hadn't copied any abilities, yet her speed and precision felt almost inhuman. Quin had no real fighting experience, and the movie-inspired stance he'd taken at the start was useless against her.
Her kicks came in fast, each one unpredictable—high, low, spinning, feinting. He tried to see a pattern but found none. She was ramping up, getting faster and stronger with each strike.
Then, disaster—his glasses shattered from a hit. The world blurred instantly.
"Wait! Stop!" Quin cried, stumbling backward. "I can't see without my glasses, and my body's already sore from—"
"Bring a healer," Vicky called to Brock. "And two chained with high levels."
Brock bowed but hesitated. "Miss Vicky, he's a guest."
"I've been holding back," she said sharply. "I'm helping him, not hurting him."
Moments later, Brock returned with three chained prisoners. Vicky touched each one, drawing on their MC levels, then knelt before Quin. Her hands hovered over his bruises, glowing faintly. Warmth spread through him, and in seconds, his wounds began to knit together.
The pain faded, and he was back as new. Then she moved her hands to his eyes, and in seconds his vision cleared—better than it had ever been in his life.
Quin opened his mouth to thank her—
—WHACK!
Her foot smashed across his face, sending him sliding across the floor.
"Be thankful," she said, walking toward him with that same eerie grin. "You're getting a personal lesson in Blade family training. We've been pushing our bodies to the limit since childhood.
You've heard such stories, haven't you?"