Raith stepped into the ring. His boots pressed into the dust-packed soil of Ashwake Yard. The air felt different now—denser somehow.
Quieter.
He exhaled once and activated Super Strength. Just enough to strengthen his muscles and boost his speed, but not to the point of full overload.
It was hard enough to control this.
'Don't break anything,' he told himself. 'Especially not myself.'
The moment his power flared, faint lines of pressure cracked beneath his feet.
"Come on. Let's see how strong is your Super Strength," Ivara taunted.
She didn't flinch. She didn't take a stance. Her arms remained crossed at her chest.
Those crimson eyes watching Raith were enough to instill fear in him.
'Alright. Simple attacks first.'
Raith calmed his mind, strategized, and then he moved.
Raith shot forward in a straight burst, aiming for a shoulder feint before pivoting into a rising palm strike. His body moved faster than most Cadets could follow—but not fast enough.
Ivara stepped aside like she'd read the entire sequence two seconds before it started.
"Too rigid," she said. "You're strong. But your movements are too obvious."
She smiled before adding, "You have no real combat training."
It was the truth. Raith was an Untuned, a waste from the Outer Ward. His training? If mining could be considered training, that was all he ever did.
Raith didn't let anything affect his mind at this moment as he adjusted. He came in lower this time. Hooked left, then turned the momentum into a back-step strike—nothing.
She pivoted again, barely even shifting her center of gravity. His strike caught the air.
"Force doesn't replace training and experience," she added calmly. "You're reacting like a miner, not a fighter."
Raith gritted his teeth. He tried again—another burst, this time ducking low, aiming for her midsection with a rising punch.
She stepped into him, shoulder-grazing his—and flicked a palm up under his elbow. Raith lost balance but didn't fall. He caught himself, landing heavy, his boots gouging the dirt.
Ivara tilted her head.
"At least you don't trip easily. That's good lower body strength."
Cael tensed the moment he heard it. The others glanced at each other, picking up on it, too.
It wasn't what Miss Ivara said—it was how she said it.
To them, it sounded like she was coaching Raith. Offering advice. Like he was getting special treatment, no one else did.
The air shifted. The mood soured.
Of course, they didn't like that.
Raith didn't say a word. He just wiped the sweat from his brow, adjusted his footing, and launched forward again.
This time, the clash stretched longer. More frantic. Dust kicked up as Raith twisted, dashed, and spun through the ring. His attacks came sharper, cleaner—but every swing was met with air. Every rush was deflected.
Ivara slipped past him like she knew his moves before he did. Not mocking. Not playful. Just precise.
Cael folded his arms, tone laced with smugness. "See? All power, no mind. Just swinging like a brute."
He said it loud enough for everyone to hear.
Raith didn't mind him. Ivara, too. She kept on giving advice.
She didn't even raise her voice as she fought.
"When you punch, don't lead with your shoulder."
"You're not watching your flank."
"Wait for my step before countering. Not my hand."
Raith tried to listen and adjust. But even that was hard—his instincts didn't match the movements she demanded.
And then, something snapped.
Raith gritted his teeth and surged more Flux through his limbs. Not the bare minimum this time—but a greater fraction of what Super Strength had given him.
'Just one solid move.'
He crouched—boots sinking into the dirt, ground cracking beneath the pressure.
Then he launched.
The earth split under his leap, shards of dirt and dust blasted outward as he rocketed into the air. His shadow stretched long across the Ashwake Yard. The squad looked up in stunned silence.
Midair, Raith didn't think. He just moved. His body twisted, and he raised one leg, aiming down.
He was planning for a stomp.
No setup. No form. Just power.
Just raw power aimed directly at Ivara.
"Good." Still, she didn't dodge. "But that is not enough to hit me."
Instead, she stepped into it—arms raised—and caught his descending leg with both hands.
The force of the impact sent a shockwave through the ground. Another crack split across the ring like the earth itself winced.
Dust exploded outward. Debris kicked up into a swirling cloud. The pressure shoved the rest of Squad C-707 several steps back.
Vanna stumbled, eyes wide. Cael shielded his face. Demitri dug his feet in. Liria stood frozen, blinking through the dust.
And then, she twisted—hard—and with one clean motion, hurled him across the ring.
Raith slammed into the dirt, rolling to a stop near the edge.
The squad gasped. Even Cael looked stunned.
Raith groaned and pushed himself up slowly, every joint aching.
Ivara didn't gloat. She stood back at the center, brushing dust from her glove.
"Next time, don't focus so much on power," she said. "Focus on the rhythm."
"But you showed initiative," she added, her tone quieter. "Keep that."
She turned to look at the others. "Why don't one of you take the lead and attack me together?"
Cael looked at the others, then stepped forward, already shouting, "Alright, squad! New plan. We're going in together!"
Raith blinked, still catching his breath.
Cael pointed at Vanna and Liria. "You two distract her from the sides. Range attacks. Demitri, charge her straight on. I'll back you up."
It was bad from the start.
Vanna launched a Pulse Whistle burst—too early. It barely reached.
Liria followed with sharp water blades, but they were aimed off-center, unsure whether to avoid friendly fire or not.
Demitri's charged arms turned to steel. But with no coordination, Ivara simply sidestepped again—he nearly collided with Vanna.
Cael zipped around with Break Step, trying to give orders mid-dash, but all he did was make things messier.
He shouted orders like he was in a solo game. No timing. No awareness. Just noise.
Raith stood at the edge, still breathing heavily, watching everything unfold.
No synergy. No understanding of spacing. No timing.
'They're all strong individually… but we're fighting like strangers.'
Then it clicked.
He looked at Liria's range—the arc of her water blades. At Vanna's sound bursts—how they radiated but took a second to charge. Demitri's strength, Cael's erratic mobility.
He saw it clearly. Everyone's positions. Where the overlaps happened and the radius of attack from each of them.
Without thinking, Raith shouted, "Wait!"
Everyone froze.
Even Ivara paused mid-movement.
Raith limped forward. "I've got a plan. But you all need to listen. Just once."
Cael raised a brow, but Raith's tone didn't invite argument.
"Vanna," Raith said. "You hold your burst until I call it. It's our opener."
She blinked. "Got it."
"Demitri—stay back this time. Guard Liria. When the splash goes up, you move in only if there's an opening."
Demitri nodded.
"Cael—cut the wide arc. Go for short dashes. No hero moves. Just pressure."
Raith turned to Liria. "And you… When I say now, use the biggest arc you can. Make it messy. Don't aim. Just cover the zone."
She stared at him for a second, then gave the faintest nod.
Ivara folded her arms. "Interesting."
Raith took position again. "Now!"
Vanna unleashed her Pulse Whistle. It rang out sharply—not to hit Ivara, but to stall her motion for a split second.
Cael darted left, light trails flashing behind him, staying within the limit.
Raith sprinted forward, faking another attack, pulling Ivara's attention toward him.
That's when he shouted. "Now, Liria!"
Liria raised both arms. The air shimmered. Water formed—not blades this time, but a large, sweeping wave. She twisted her body, then slammed both hands down.
The arc flew wide, chaotic, and untargeted.
It wasn't clean or fast. None of that matters. That wasn't the goal.
But it was everywhere.
A full-body splash zone.
Ivara stood in its path. She could've dodged. Could've blasted it away with her own Force.
But she didn't. The wave hit—soaked her from the shoulders down.
The squad froze.
Water ran down her combat suit. She exhaled, calmly brushing her soaked fringe back behind one ear.
Then, she looked at Raith.
"Well," she said, "it wasn't elegant. But it was the first real tactic I've seen all morning."
The squad remained silent. Then Vanna whooped.
"We got her!"
Demitri chuckled under his breath. Even Liria cracked the faintest smile.
Raith didn't cheer. He just stood there, soaked in sweat and still recovering.
Ivara adjusted her gloves. "Next time, don't depend on mess. Refine your chaos."
She turned to walk off the ring.
"Now, let's get the real business done."