Chapter 20

“Oof.”

Mark hit the floor hard, the impact rattling his bones. The air whooshed out from his lungs, leaving him sprawled on the ground like a discarded rag doll. For fuck’s sake. He groaned, rolling onto his side and pushing himself up with shaky arms. Every muscle howled in agony, his body a patchwork of aches and bruises.

The room reeked of ozone and sweat, the faint scent of charred wood lingering where his lightning had singed the floorboards. Scorch marks streaked the walls, remnants of their earlier sparring sessions. Julian stood a few paces away, arms crossed, his posture relaxed as if the last hour had been nothing more than a light warm-up.

These daily battles had become a twisted kind of routine, a mix of punishment and addiction.

He knew he wasn’t going to win, not yet, but he kept coming back for more, drawn to the challenge, the frustration, the sheer, exhilarating impossibility of it all- a constant reminder of how far he had to go.

It had been a week, a solid week of getting his ass handed to him, and the results were always the same – Julian, calm and untouchable, effortlessly deflecting every attack, while Mark ended up sprawled on the floor, wondering how the hell he’d let it happen again.

I fucking hate this. But he also loved it. He spent his days replaying the fights in his head, analyzing Julian’s movements, strategizing, searching for a weakness, a crack in the his defenses.

He was making progress, albeit slowly. He could tell Julian was having to work a little harder now, his movements not quite as effortless, his expression not quite as bored. I’m getting there.

Julian stretched, his joints popping. “Alright, kid, let’s call it a day.”

“Wait,” Mark said, wiping the blood from his split lip. I’m so close. “One more round.”

I think I’ve almost got it. If I can just time my attacks, use his momentum against him...

He kept visualizing the scenario in his head, the way he could feint with his lightning, then use his speed to close the distance, to land a solid blow.

“Nah. Let’s move on to something new.”

“Just one more round,” he insisted, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“What?” Julian raised an eyebrow. “You got a new strategy?”

Mark spat out a mouthful of blood, his hands crackling with sparks of lightning. He settled back into his fighting stance, his gaze fixed on Julian. If I can predict his next attack...

Julian shook his head, almost amused. “The answer isn’t in your head, kid. It’s in your gut. Your instincts. Your connection to your power.”

Mark didn’t lower his stance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re still fighting yourself. Trying to control it, tame it. You’re treating your power like a tool instead of an extension of yourself. That’s why you’re stuck.”

“I’m not stuck.”

“Sure you are. That’s why you’re thinking so hard about how to hit me instead of just doing it.” Julian gestured vaguely at the scorched floor around them. “All this effort, all this energy—it’s wasted because you don’t trust yourself. You don’t trust your power.”

Mark groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “So what do you want me to do, exactly? Stop thinking? Just switch my brain off?”

“It’s not about turning it off. It’s about trusting what your body already knows. Your lightning, your speed, your strength—they’re all extensions of you. Treat them like that, and you might start seeing results.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you’ll keep getting your ass handed to you.”

Mark let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, figured that much. Okay, fine. So what do we do now?”

“We start by breaking down the basics. You’ve got good technique. Your control is solid, your output impressive. But technique’s just the foundation. If you want to be a real threat, you need more than that.”

“More what?”

“Experience. Adaptability. A deeper understanding of the nature of your abilities. Raw power and fancy moves will only get you so far. You have to understand your abilities—their essence, their potential, their limits.”

“Okay...” He still wasn’t sure where Julian was going with this.

“Most people are trained from a young age,” Julian continued, pacing slowly around him. “They’re constantly sparring, battling, learning to adapt to different opponents, different fighting styles. You, on the other hand, you’ve mostly just trained with Lida. And while she’s a formidable opponent, it’s not the same as facing a mage, or a shifter, or ... well, a crazy old me.”

Mark thought about it. He has a point. Lida was strong, terrifyingly so, but she fought like a witch—her magic deliberate, rhythmic, almost methodical. He’d learned to anticipate her movements, the way her body shifted when she prepared a spell, how her voice changed when she chanted an incantation. She was a powerful teacher, but her style was predictable.

Julian was chaos in comparison, all raw precision and unpredictability. And against Elia or that Vora woman, it had been even worse. They hadn’t given him time to think, let alone strategize, he’d been completely out of his depth.

“As I said you’ve got the basics down. Good spatial awareness, decent technique, impressive power output, even a surprising amount of control for a hybrid. But your adaptability ... that’s an issue.”

Julian stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You need to learn to read your opponent, to anticipate their moves, to adjust your strategy on the fly. The time it takes you to assess a situation, to understand your opponent’s abilities ... that’s what’ll get you killed in a real fight. And believe me, in this world, the fights get very real, very quickly.”

He’s right, Mark admitted silently. He thought of Ria, how effortlessly she had used her ice to control the battlefield when they fought Elia. She created openings, forced them to react to her rhythm. She’s a natural.

“The associations understand this,” Julian went on. “They have their young mages battling constantly. It’s brutal, but it forces them to adapt, to learn, to survive. They learn to assess a situation, analyze their opponent’s strengths and weaknesses, and adjust their tactics accordingly. That split-second decision, that instinctive reaction ... that’s what separates the survivors from the casualties.”

“Okay, so what do we do?”

“We’re going to push you out of your comfort zone.”

“Comfort zone? Pretty sure I don’t even have one.”

“It took you a week to figure out how to even land a hit on me, kid,” Julian said, his voice dry. “In a real fight, that’s a death sentence.”

“It’s not like I’m going to be fighting guys like you every day,” Mark grumbled. “Besides, you’re not exactly a fair fight.”

“True,” Julian conceded, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “But the world doesn’t fight fair either.”

“Fine.” Mark folded his arms. “How do I get better? How do I ‘understand’ my abilities, or whatever?”

Julian sighed. “Are you seriously going to make me spell everything out for you, kid?”

“You keep talking about ‘learning’ and ‘adapting,’ but you haven’t actually told me what I’m supposed to do.”

“You still don’t get it, do you?” Julian muttered under his breath. He paused, his gaze drifting to a point somewhere beyond the cluttered walls of basement. “You’re with that Crescent girl, right?”

“Yeah, Ria,” Mark frowned. “Why?”

“What do you know about ice magic?”

Is he giving me a pop quiz now? “It’s ... cold?”

Julian stared at him like he’d just failed kindergarten. “Seriously? ‘Cold’? That’s the best you can do?”

“Okay, okay,” Mark said holding up his hands. “It’s versatile. Good for offense and defense. You can create shields, projectiles, even ... I don’t know, freeze ground and make environment advantageous?”

“Exactly,” Julian said, nodding. “Frost ... it’s one of the most elegant elements. Malleable, adaptable, powerful. It’s good for practically everything.” He paused, his gaze meeting Mark’s. “Now, your lightning, it’s great for offense, sure, but for defense? It’s shit. Useless.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

“Just listen, dumbass ... Understanding the nature of an element, its strengths, its weaknesses, its potential—that’s the key to wielding it effectively. It’s not just about hitting harder or faster. It’s about knowing what it can do and what it can’t.”

Mark nodded slowly, his mind drifting to Ria. The way she used her ice, the fluidity, the precision, the sheer raw power. She made it look easy, the way she used her ice to control every aspect of a fight. She wasn’t just strong—she was precise, deliberate, always two steps ahead.

“She’s a prime example,” Julian said, as if reading his thoughts. “That Crescent girl comes from a long line of frost mages. Generations of knowledge passed down, each building on the last. They’ve refined their understanding of frost to a level most mages can’t even comprehend.”

Mark pictured her, remembered the way she’d commanded the battlefield during their sparring sessions. Frost and fury. It wasn’t just raw talent; it was a legacy.

“You, on the other hand,” Julian said, his tone turning sharper, “you have two distinct powers. You understand lightning—it’s instinctual for you. You’ve used it your whole life, even if you didn’t fully comprehend its nature. But Void?” He tilted his head. “What do you feel when you use it?”

Mark hesitated, his mind flashing to the moments he’d summoned blades or created barriers. He’d mostly used them defensively, instinctively, without really considering their nature, their potential.

It felt ... right... satisfying. Like snapping a puzzle piece into place. But that’s not what he’s asking, is it?

“I ... don’t know.”

“Because you haven’t used it enough,” Julian said, rubbing his hands together. “You’ve barely scratched the surface of its potential.”

“So I just need to use it more? That’s it?” Seems too simple.

“Sometimes the solution lies in how you frame the problem, kid,” Julian said, a knowing glint in his eye. “Reframing a problem can make it less daunting, more approachable. Yes, in theory, that is the solution. Use it more. But there’s a deeper understanding we need to cultivate.”

Julian suddenly bellowed, “Luna! Get over here!”

A moment later, Luna emerged from the shadows, dragging an enormous two-handed sword behind her. The metal scraped loudly against the concrete, the sound grating and jarring.

She struggled under its weight, her small frame straining with the effort. She flashed Mark a fanged grin and shoved the sword toward him before retreating back into the shadows.

That kid is definitely weird. Mark stared at the sword. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this?”

“Your first task is to create a replica. Using Void.”

Mark hefted the sword, its weight surprising him. It was a simple design, a double-edged blade with a plain crossguard and a leather-wrapped hilt.

“What’s the point of this?” he asked, frowning.

“Control, kid, control. Right now, you summon blades and barriers instinctively. It’s like a reflex. But to truly master it, you need precision. Deliberation. You need to go beyond reacting and start creating. This exercise will force you to focus your intent, to mold your power exactly as you want it.”

Mark nodded slowly, turning the sword over in his hands, studying its shape, its weight, its balance. I’ve never tried to replicate something exactly before. It’s always been more about ... feeling the energy, letting it flow, seeing what happens.

He pictured his Void blades, their jagged edges and raw energy, and realized how far he was from anything resembling precision.

This is going to suck.

“So I should use this as a reference?”

“Yes. Study it. Memorize it. And then remold it.”

“Okay,” Mark said, a hint of amusement in his voice. He’s a strange dude. But he must know his stuff.

“Now,” Julian said, clapping his hands together, “begin. And remember, kid, I want an exact replica. Down to the last detail. The size, the shape, the weight, the balance. Everything. No shortcuts. No half-measures. Only then can we move on to the next phase.”

Mark closed his eyes, drawing in a steady breath. He pictured the sword in his mind, its every detail etched into his memory. Slowly, he reached for the Void, that familiar, humming reservoir beneath his skin.

Mark trudged home, feeling like a zombie. Every step felt heavier than the last, his legs threatening to buckle beneath him. This is bullshit. He was exhausted, frustrated, and his body again ached from head to toe. Julian had spent the entire day pushing him, testing his limits, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to meet the old bastard’s exacting standards.

He’d thought it would be simple—shape the Void, focus, boom.Sword. But no.