A couple of days after beginning her training and Willow had already begun to show a lot of progress under Mrs. Zinc's tutelage

  Meanwhile—

  Kai was growing impatient.

  Kai paced back and forth near the obstacle course, flames occasionally sparking from beneath his boots.

  Kai: Man, how long are they going to take? It’s been two days already. I’m sick of running this lame obstacle course over and over.

  Owen leaned casually against a training pillar, arms crossed.

  Owen: Calm down. Out of the three of us, Willow needed the training the most. You know that. I’m sure they won’t be much longer anyway.

  Kai scoffed.

  Kai: They better not be.

  Back in the training chamber…

  Mrs. Zinc stood with her cigarette unlit between her fingers, observing carefully.

  Mrs. Zinc: Alright, Willow. One more time.

  Willow inhaled deeply.

  Willow: Okay.

  Five mechanical dummies launched at once—moving at sonic speed. Each one followed a different erratic pattern: zig-zagging through trees, bouncing off trunks, flipping mid-air.

  Willow’s roots spread beneath her feet, stabilizing the earth. Vines burst from her arms and shot underground, weaving through soil to conceal their approach.

  Three dummies were caught instantly.

  But the remaining two accelerated.

  Willow’s eyes sharpened.

  Willow: C’mon, Willow… focus.

  She looped her remaining vines together into two thick, knotted cords. Thorns erupted along their surface like serrated wire.

  The first vine lashed upward, smacking one dummy mid-leap between trees.

  The second dummy twisted around the strike—slippery, faster.

  The first dummy recovered and bolted again.

  Willow’s mind shifted.

  Willow: Alright… let’s try this.

  She slammed her palms into the ground.

  Hundreds of jagged thorns erupted outward in a violent ring, piercing through soil and bark alike. The two remaining dummies were impaled mid-stride.

  Her vines snapped tight.

  All five restrained.

  Willow straightened, slightly winded but smiling.

  Willow: That makes five. How’d I do, ma’am?

  Mrs. Zinc gave a small nod of approval.

  Mrs. Zinc: Splendid, Willow. You’re progressing beautifully. Your instinct to change tactics instead of forcing repetition—that’s growth.

  Willow’s shoulders relaxed slightly.

  But before the moment could settle—

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  BOOM.

  The training room doors blasted inward in a gust of fire and heat.

  Kai stepped through the smoke.

  Kai: Alright, Mrs. Zinc! Willow’s been at it long enough. It’s my turn.

  Mrs. Zinc didn’t even flinch.

  Mrs. Zinc: Ah. Mr. Almanara. Impatient as ever, I see.

  Kai crossed his arms.

  Kai: You’ve had her in here for two days. I’m sick of running that same obstacle course like some side character.

  Mrs. Zinc turned toward Willow.

  Mrs. Zinc: Willow, dear. Go take a break. Hydrate.

  Willow nodded.

  Willow: Yes, ma’am.

  She exited the chamber, joining Owen outside.

  Now it was just Kai and Mrs. Zinc.

  The air felt heavier.

  Mrs. Zinc: Alright. Let’s begin with your flaws.

  Kai blinked.

  Kai: Flaws? What the hell are you talking about? I don’t have any.

  Mrs. Zinc exhaled slowly.

  Mrs. Zinc: That. That right there is your first flaw. You’re far too full of yourself. Confidence is useful. Pride is blinding.

  Kai frowned.

  Kai: I think my skills justify my confidence.

  Mrs. Zinc: You’re in your second year. And you fight exactly the same way you did when you enrolled. Even Jonathan has matured more than you—and he’s only halfway through his first year.

  Kai went quiet.

  Mrs. Zinc stepped closer.

  Mrs. Zinc: Listen, Kai. I know about your family and—

  Kai’s eyes flared.

  Kai: DON’T YOU DARE. My family has nothing to do with this. Just start the training.

  A pause.

  Mrs. Zinc’s expression softened—just slightly.

  Mrs. Zinc: Fine. We’ll address your overheating problem first. You burn too hard, too fast. Every fight is a sprint. You ignore pacing. You tunnel vision. And your temper feeds your flame.

  Kai exhaled.

  Kai: So what do I do?

  Mrs. Zinc: Flame stillness training. Create a small flame. Keep it steady.

  Kai scoffed.

  Kai: That’s it? Easy.

  He snapped his fingers.

  FWUMP.

  A bright, roaring flame exploded in his palm—far too large, far too aggressive.

  Mrs. Zinc sighed.

  Mrs. Zinc: Not that. A steady flame. One that doesn’t react to your mood.

  Kai rolled his eyes and tried again.

  This time the flame shrank to candle size.

  The training chamber remained in jungle biome configuration. Thick foliage. Ambient humidity. Artificial wildlife generated by the sim.

  A bird fluttered overhead and began chirping.

  Kai glanced up.

  The flame spiked violently.

  Mrs. Zinc: Focus.

  Kai clenched his jaw. The flame flickered harder.

  Mrs. Zinc: Stop thinking about the bird. Focus on the flame.

  Kai: Right now the only thing I’m thinking about is how pointless this is. Shouldn’t I be doing actual combat training?

  Mrs. Zinc: How do you expect to fight properly if you can’t control the smallest output of your Aspect? Control is foundational. I watched your match with Owen. You have power. You lack discipline.

  The flame burst outward, nearly scorching his sleeve.

  Kai: That was different! In a fight everything’s reflex. When I need power, I output it. When I need control, I adjust.

  Mrs. Zinc: On instinct. Not intention. What happens when your rhythm is disrupted? When someone breaks your tempo?

  Kai hesitated.

  Kai: …Alright. I get it.

  He tried again.

  This time he forced the flame smaller—compressing it harshly.

  His shoulders tensed.

  His jaw locked.

  The flame trembled violently.

  Mrs. Zinc: You’re strangling it. Stop trying to dominate it.

  Kai snapped.

  Kai: Then what the hell does it respond to?!

  The flame exploded outward.

  Heat waves rippled through the jungle biome. Leaves ignited. Branches caught fire. The environment began to burn.

  Mrs. Zinc: Damn it, Kai—

  Kai raised both hands.

  The wildfire halted.

  All flames lifted upward, spiraling into a massive rotating fireball overhead. With a snap of his fingers, it collapsed into smoke.

  Kai exhaled.

  Kai: Sorry.

  Mrs. Zinc: It’s fine. At least you regained control.

  Silence.

  Kai reignited the small flame.

  Mrs. Zinc: Don’t control it. Listen to it. It responds to you alone. It isn’t wild. It mirrors you.

  Kai closed his eyes.

  This time he didn’t force it.

  He felt the warmth on his palm.

  The subtle pulses.

  The way it leaned with his breathing.

  The way it flared when his frustration rose.

  Then—

  He understood.

  The flame wasn’t the volatile one.

  He was.

  Mrs. Zinc: Good. Now a test.

  Smoke gathered behind him. A clone formed and clapped loudly.

  Kai flinched.

  The flame wavered—

  But did not spike.

  Mrs. Zinc nodded.

  Mrs. Zinc: Again.

  Three more smoke clones appeared. They circled him. Kicked pebbles. Whispered insults.

  Clone: You’re reckless.

  Clone: You rely on brute force.

  Clone: You’d burn out first in a real war.

  The flame trembled—

  But stayed candle-sized.

  Kai slowly opened his eyes.

  Kai: …Okay. Maybe this wasn’t a complete waste of time.

  Mrs. Zinc allowed herself the faintest smile.

  Mrs. Zinc: That is your fire when it is calm. Memorize that sensation. In battle, chaos will try to steal it from you.

  Kai closed his fist.

  The flame extinguished.

  For once—

  He looked thoughtful instead of cocky.

  Kai: …I didn’t know it could feel like that.

  Mrs. Zinc: That’s because you’ve always used your Aspect to shout.

  She turned toward the door.

  Mrs. Zinc: Now you’re learning how to speak.

  End Chapter