"New things first," Kaden's gaze lowered to Jethro's lizard. His voice was devoid of the curiosity most had shown, but it didn't mean he was going to ignore it. "Your lizard. It's different. Bigger. And the color's wrong."

He looked up at Jethro. "Did you not think that I would ask you about it?"

Jethro's defenses snapped up instantly. He shrugged, the motion carefully casual. "My assumption is growth spurt?"

"Growth spurt?" Kaden echoed skeptically. "Did it swallow an Iron Behemoth?"

Jethro winced, stabbed by Kaden's ruthless refusal of his excuse. "I don't know what you want me to say, Master Kade. Maybe the academy food's better than the gruel he's used to." He offered a weak smile.

Kaden's eyes didn't waver. They were like twin drills boring into Jethro's façade. "Red Lizards don't have growth spurts that add twenty pounds of armored scale and change their color. They eat insects, they sleep, they die. That's their cycle. Try again."

The bluntness was disarming. There was no mockery, no princely disdain. Just cold, hard facts from a mind that dealt in them.

Jethro's mind raced. "I… really don't know what you want me to say. I don't have answers, I've always been as surprised as anybody about this."

Kaden stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment. Finally, he gave a slight, dismissive sigh. "Whatever. Keep your secrets, kid. Just make sure whatever you're doing to it doesn't blow up in your face. I'm not here to train your lizard anyway."

He turned away, clearly filing the inconsistency away for later but deeming it not worth pursuing at that moment. The reprieve was temporary, but real.

"Now," Kaden said, his focus shifting to the vast, star-domed training floor. "Professor Xan, your combat professor, he'll probably never teach you what I'm about to teach you. His job is to educate you on the concept of battle, not the technicality of it."

"He teaches you how to not die in a straight fight. How to hold a stance, throw a punch a Darcblood Wolf might feel, or block a telegraphed strike. It's the foundation. What he won't teach you… is how to fight."

He turned back to Jethro. "Show me what you can do. Let's see what you even know about combat."

He gestured to the center of the platform. In response, a humanoid hologram solidified from thin air. It was featureless, made from a blue energy that Jethro was almost certain was crystalized aether.

Kaden set it to a basic combat mode, and stood back to watch.

Jethro took a deep breath. This was a language he understood, even if he was rusty.

Back in his old world, fighting wasn't new to him at all. He'd gotten into it more times than he could count, especially in defense of other people. That was the kind of life that came with living in boys foster homes.

Gently, he placed Scorch on the table before stepping onto the platform. He rolled his shoulders, the memories of punches, dodges and knee strikes dancing in his mind.

Hopefully, he wasn't too rusty.

He assumed his stance. It wasn't a textbook one, more of a barbaric pose. He settled into a low, balanced crouch, weight on the balls of his feet, hands up but open, fingers curled slightly. It was the posture of someone used to unpredictable fights in tight spaces.

Kaden lifted one curious brow.

The hologram stayed still, and Jethro didn't wait for it to attack. When it came to actual physical combat, he was always the attacker.

He feinted with his left, stepping in almost immediately, and swung a brutal, looping right hook aimed at the hologram's jaw. It was all raw power and momentum.

The hologram blocked, its arm more solid than Jethro had expected. Rather than recoiling, Jethro used the impact to pivot, driving his elbow towards its torso, then following up with a savage kick to its knee.

The connection was powerful enough to cause the hologram to stagger, its programming adjusting to the aggressive, non-standard assault.

Kaden watched with more intrigue.

Jethro pressed like a whirlwind of brute force. He used grapples, dirty tricks, using his body weight to unbalance the construct. He took a solid hit to the ribs that made him grunt but shoved through it, grabbing the hologram's arm and using its own stability against it, attempting a clumsy but effective-looking throw.

The way he fought was awfully messy, inefficient, and leaked energy everywhere, but it was fueled by a gritty, undeniable experience that was completely absent from the academy's pristine combat forms.

Kaden watched, arms crossed, his expression silent. When the hologram finally landed a clean shot that sent Jethro stumbling back, breath heaving, Kaden pressed a button. The hologram de-rezzed.

"You can brawl," Kaden acknowledged, a note of surprise in his gruff tone. "I must admit I'm actually even impressed. Clearly you've been in the dirt a few times. If I would guess, it must be life in Sector Twelve. It's made you strong. At least strong enough to actually know what combat is about."

He tilted his head in admission. "It's a start. But… you're only relying on force. You're like a hammer. Effective against nails, useless against water. And you have this strange thing where you're slower in attacks but faster in defense. Your movements are loud causing your intentions to be telegraphed a mile away."

Jethro tightened his lips. "Wow. You got all of that from just this fight?"

Kaden looked at him. "I'm a really good fighter."

He stepped onto the platform. "You've already forgotten that aether manipulation is key. We're tamers, kid. Power isn't just muscle for us. It's this."

He held up his index finger, and a tip of yellow lightning crackled above it.

"You're Grey Rank. Your core is a puddle. But even a puddle can be focused. You can't throw blasts or form shields. But you can still maximize your magical strength with your physical one."

Jethro stared, fascinated. "How?"

"Intent. Focus. You don't have aether; you are a conduit for it. Feel it in your core. It's not much, but it's there. Now, when you strike, you don't just throw your fist. You push that energy out with it. Not ahead of it, not behind it. With it. Synchronized."

Jethro knew that. He knew the basics of it, but his aether manipulation stat was so poor that he was worried if he would ever understand it. Or do it.

"Show me," Jethro said.

Kaden smirked. "Well, make sure you're looking then." Then he turned to the machine. "Activate six combat drones. Level five aggression."

With the sound of humming, six holographic drones, more lethal-looking than the one that had fought Jethro, materialized, encircling Kaden. They didn't wait. They attacked in a coordinated swarm, firing stun bolts, moving in for physical strikes.

What happened next was a blur of devastating efficiency.

Kaden fought them off with no real stress. No real difficulty. He moved with an economy of motion that was beautiful and terrifying.

A stun bolt came at his head; he simply tilted, the bolt missing by a millimeter. His left hand shot out, palm open, and a concussive pop of reddish aether erupted, not as a blast, but as a focused shockwave that shattered the nearest drone into pixels.

He pivoted just as another drone lunged at his back.

He dropped into a spin, his leg sweeping out, his shin sheathed in a razor-thin layer of aether that sliced the drone in two before it could complete its attack.

He caught the arm of another, and Jethro saw the aether flash down Kaden's arm, into his hand. His punch was crushing, if that was even a punch. It had completely turned the drone's limb to splintered light.

Kaden moved through them like a force of nature. Every block was reinforced with aether, making his arms immovable objects. Every strike, whether fist, elbow, knee, or foot, carried that same devastating focus, amplifying his physical power tenfold.

He didn't waste a single movement. It was a brutal, precise dance of destruction. In under ten seconds, the six drones were gone. Kaden stood in the center, not even breathing heavily. The aether around him faded.

"See?" he said, as if he'd just demonstrated how to tie a shoe. "Now you."

Jethro just gawked at him. "You want me… to do that?"

Kaden nodded. "Well first, I want you to try."

A frown of anxiety stretched on Jethro's face.

The training that followed was the most grueling experience of Jethro's life – in either world. Kaden was a merciless, exacting taskmaster.

Punches: They started simple. Jab, cross, hook. Kaden corrected his form relentlessly. "Your shoulder is dipping. You're throwing from the arm, not the aether in your core. Your feet are rooted? Good. Now, feel that spark in your gut. That tiny flicker. On the extension, push it. No, not like you're taking a piss, kid! With intent! It's an extension of your will!"

Jethro threw the punch. Over and over. His knuckles ached. His shoulder screamed. He felt nothing. Then, on the hundredth try, as his frustration peaked, he felt it.

It was different than using aether to activate a Skill, this time he could actually feel it in his channels. A faint, warm trickle deep inside, a sensation he'd never noticed before. He pushed with it as his fist snapped forward.

THWUMP.

The impact on the training pad Kaden held wasn't just louder; it felt deeper, more solid. A faint shimmer, barely visible, flickered over his knuckles for a nanosecond.

Jethro turned to Kaden and a big smile tore his weary face. "Did you see that? I did it!"

Kaden nodded once. "Now do it again."

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