Keet Shakti Academy

The sun had set by the time the simulation ended, casting long shadows across the academy's training grounds. Armaan stood, breathless and disoriented, as the creature he had just defeated dissipated into thin air. The remnants of smoke still hung in the air, swirling gently as if it too were trying to find its place in the world. His legs wobbled beneath him, and sweat trickled down his forehead. He looked around at his friends—Tanmay, Rai, and the others—who were still recovering from their battles. Tanmay had already wiped the sweat from his brow, grinning from ear to ear, while Rai stood still, his gaze as calm and unwavering as ever. "That was a good fight," Tanmay said, slapping Armaan on the back with a grin. "Could've used a little more fire in your strikes, but hey, not bad for a beginner." Armaan forced a smile, still reeling from the physical exertion. "Thanks, but it didn't feel like much. I just released the smoke, used it for cover. I couldn't do much else." Rai walked over, his expression as unreadable as ever. "You were able to control it," he said, his voice steady. "That's progress." Armaan nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Progress... right. But it's not enough." Before Rai could respond, Dhruv's voice rang out, deep and mocking as always. "He's right, you know." Armaan turned to find the professor standing at the edge of the arena, his gourd of alcohol in hand, the faintest smirk on his lips. "You've learned to control the smoke, but control isn't enough. It's about mastery. Not just of your power, but of yourself." Armaan's brow furrowed. "Mastery of myself?" Dhruv took a swig from his gourd, watching him with calculating eyes. "That's right. The power you have is… unpredictable. It can be a strength, or it can be your downfall. If you don't learn to control your instincts and your mind, you'll never be able to harness it to its fullest potential." Armaan's gaze dropped to the ground, the weight of Dhruv's words sinking in. It wasn't just about fighting, about physical strength. It was about his mind, his control over the chaos within him. The smoke, his hybrid power, was tied to his emotions—his focus. "Does it always feel this hard?" Armaan asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Dhruv's smirk faded slightly, a flicker of something more genuine passing through his eyes. "Yes. It always feels hard. That's what makes it worth it." --- The Next Step The days that followed were a blur of intense training. Dhruv wasn't easy on Armaan. He pushed him harder than ever, forcing him to rely not only on his hybrid power but on his physical and mental endurance. Every morning, they met in the secluded courtyard, a space hidden from the rest of the academy, where the walls echoed with the sound of Armaan's grunts and Dhruv's mocking laughter. It wasn't just about learning how to fight; it was about learning how to live in the moment, to use his hybrid power not just for offense, but as an extension of his being. Dhruv introduced him to new techniques—methods of harnessing the smoke at high speeds, methods of controlling his breathing and focusing his mind. For hours, Armaan practiced releasing controlled bursts of smoke from different parts of his body. He would focus on the speed, trying to release it in fast, fluid motions, rather than just letting it spill out in chaotic puffs. With each successful burst, his confidence grew, though the weight of his training never lifted. One day, after a particularly grueling session, Dhruv stopped him as he was about to collapse onto the ground, drenched in sweat. "You've come far," Dhruv said, his voice softer than usual. "But it's still not enough." Armaan wiped the sweat from his eyes, panting heavily. "Then what do I need to do?" Dhruv tilted his head, eyes gleaming with amusement. "You need to understand that your power isn't just about control. It's about trusting your instincts. Let go of the doubt, the hesitation. You've learned to control your smoke, now it's time to use it as a weapon." The next part of his training was the hardest. Dhruv took Armaan out into the forest, deeper than before, where the environment was harsh and unforgiving. The wind howled through the trees, and the ground was rocky and uneven. Armaan was told to close his eyes and trust his instincts as he fought against the harsh elements. He was forced to rely on his ability to sense the movement of his surroundings, to listen to the rustling of the leaves, the shifting of the wind, and even the sounds of the animals moving in the distance. Each movement was fluid, a dance between him and the world around him, a fight against the chaos of nature itself. Armaan struggled at first, but with each passing day, he learned to trust his senses, his smoke, and his mind. It was in these moments of isolation, of deep struggle, that he truly began to understand the depth of his power. --- The Test of Endurance Weeks passed, and the academy's first-year exam was fast approaching. Students buzzed with nervous energy as the day drew closer. Armaan didn't feel ready, but then again, when had he ever? Every step forward felt like a battle, and every victory felt like a mere stepping stone. But then, a day before the exam, Armaan stood alone in the courtyard once more, cigarette in hand, as Dhruv watched from the shadows. The cigarette was a key—one that unlocked the full force of his hybrid power. He inhaled deeply, feeling the familiar surge of nicotine through his system, the smoke curling around him as if answering his call. The smoke began to swirl and intensify, but this time, it didn't feel chaotic. He didn't feel overwhelmed. He focused on the rhythm of his breath, the sharpness of his senses, and the steady flow of energy coursing through his body. His body moved with the smoke, a seamless dance of control. He was ready.