The training room was quiet once more, save for the soft clang of Kael's sword against the air as he practiced his swings. Sweat dripped down his forehead, his muscles aching from hours of honing his technique. Every strike with the sword felt like a revelation, each motion a little more fluid, a little more confident than the last.
But there was something inside him—a fire that still felt unquenched. Kael needed more. He needed to test himself.
He turned, his eyes landing on the figure standing near the doorway. James.
James was leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, the familiar gleam of his twin revolvers strapped to his sides. There was a faint grin on his face as he watched Kael, an expression that suggested he had known exactly what Kael was thinking.
"Mind if I ask you for a little favor?" Kael's voice was a little rough from exertion, but his determination was clear. "I want to spar."
James raised an eyebrow, pushing himself off the frame with a chuckle. "A spar, huh? You think you're ready to take me on?"
Kael held the sword firmly in his grip, his eyes never leaving James. "I've been training hard. I want to see where I stand—see how far I've come."
James took a slow breath, then shrugged nonchalantly. "Alright, Kael. You're looking a lot sharper these days. Let's see if you can back it up."
The two of them moved into the center of the room, Kael gripping his new sword tighter. The weight of it felt different now—stronger, more confident, as if it were an extension of his will. He could feel the fire deep inside him, waiting to be unleashed. But he needed control.
James cracked his knuckles and drew his twin revolvers, the smooth gleam of metal catching the light. "Alright, no holds barred, yeah? We both know how I fight."
Kael nodded, his mind already shifting into focus. His first instinct was to burn everything in his path, but he knew that wasn't the way to approach this. This wasn't about raw power—it was about precision.
"Ready when you are," Kael said, raising his sword.
James gave a quick smirk before spinning his revolvers in his hands with practiced ease. "Let's make this interesting."
Without warning, James was in motion, his body a blur as he unleashed a rapid barrage of bullets, aimed with deadly precision. The sound of gunfire rang out, echoing through the room.
Kael's eyes snapped open, instinct kicking in as he sidestepped, his sword slicing through the air with controlled speed. The fire inside him burned, but he held it back, his body moving fluidly with the rhythm of the fight. He blocked one of the bullets with the flat of his blade, sending sparks flying from the impact, but there were too many coming at once.
James was a master of his guns—his aim, impeccable. He didn't wait for Kael to get comfortable. The shots kept coming, relentless, forcing Kael to dodge and parry, his footwork improving with every step.
Kael pushed forward, the sword a blur in his hands. He swung with precision, using the sword's weight to his advantage, but James was faster, his movements fluid, like water, as he dodged effortlessly between shots.
The fight continued in a blur of motion—Kael's sword clashing against the air, his flames barely contained, and James effortlessly evading and firing back with near-perfect aim. Despite Kael's growing control over his fire and his blade, he found himself constantly on the defensive, struggling to keep up with James's speed and tactical genius.
Finally, James took a step forward, his revolvers drawn in a single fluid motion. In the same instant, he shot two precise bullets, one aimed at Kael's sword, the other at his chest. Kael managed to deflect the first, but the second bullet clipped his side, sending a sharp pain through him as it grazed his ribs. He stumbled back, his grip loosening on the sword.
James stood still for a moment, his guns lowered, a satisfied grin on his face. "You're a lot better than you were, Kael. But you're still too predictable."
Kael's chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, the pain in his side sharp but manageable. He lowered his sword, sweat trickling down his brow. "I… I couldn't land a hit."
James shrugged. "You'll get there. You've got the fire, the potential. But you're not thinking on your feet enough. You've got power, but you've got to be unpredictable. You need to read your opponent—not just react."
Kael took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. "I'll get there."
James nodded, holstering his revolvers. "I know you will. You've grown, Kael. I'm impressed."
Kael glanced down at the sword in his hands, the weight of it now both literal and figurative. He wasn't there yet, but he could feel it—the beginning of something more. This fight wasn't just about winning. It was about learning.
"Thanks," Kael said, his voice steady despite the exhaustion. "I won't stop until I'm ready."
James gave him a reassuring smile. "That's the Kael I know."
The two of them stood there for a moment, the room quiet except for the sound of their breathing. Kael's body still ached from the duel, but the fire inside him was brighter now, more focused.
He wasn't there yet, but he was getting closer. And with every step, the weight of his past, of his brother, of everything he'd lost, seemed just a little bit lighter.