Keet Shakti Academy

The morning sun cast long shadows across the academy's training grounds as Armaan limped into the courtyard, still aching from his previous day's sparring match. His body, sore and exhausted, screamed for rest, but there was no time to indulge in weakness. The voices of his classmates echoed in his mind, each one mocking his lack of power. But today was different. Today, he would prove them wrong.

Dhruv, already waiting by the training circle with a small flask of alcohol in hand, smirked as he watched Armaan approach. "You still alive, kid?" he called out, his voice dripping with mockery.

Armaan clenched his jaw. "I'm here to train," he muttered, trying to ignore the pain shooting through his limbs.

Good," Dhruv said, his gaze sharp. "Let's see if you can keep up."

Armaan was used to the professor's unorthodox methods by now. Every lesson with Dhruv felt like a test of both his physical and mental limits. But that was exactly what he needed. The mocking voices of his classmates rang in his head, urging him to push harder.

"You're gonna start with something simple today," Dhruv said, tossing a long wooden stick at Armaan. "No fancy tricks. Just control. Focus on your movements. Everything else comes later."

Armaan caught the stick, eyeing it warily. He knew Dhruv's methods often started with the basics, and they were never as simple as they seemed. "Control," he repeated under his breath. "I can do that."

Dhruv raised an eyebrow. "We'll see. Try this: keep the stick in front of you. Move it in every direction. Slow. Steady. I want precision, not speed."

Armaan stood in position, gripping the stick with both hands. Slowly, he moved it up, down, and in circles, focusing on making each movement smooth and deliberate. But as his arms began to burn and fatigue set in, his grip tightened, his movements becoming jerky.

"Focus," Dhruv said, his tone unwavering. "Every time you lose control, you fall back into chaos. Your body has to understand control before you can use anything else."

"Yeah, but—" Armaan started to protest, but Dhruv's glare stopped him.

"No buts. Try again."

The hours dragged on, with Armaan repeating the movements over and over again. Sweat poured down his face, his muscles aching with each passing moment. His thoughts kept drifting to his hybrid powers, and his lack of control over them. The cigarette in his pocket felt heavier with each thought, but he forced himself to ignore it. He wasn't ready for that yet.

"Stop," Dhruv said suddenly, making Armaan lower the stick. "You're getting too frustrated. Take a break."

Armaan let out a shaky breath, setting the stick down. As much as he wanted to argue, he knew Dhruv was right. "I can't do this," he muttered, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. "I'm not strong enough."

Dhruv's face softened for a fraction of a second, a rare moment of sincerity. "No one's born strong, Armaan. You want to get stronger? You have to push through the pain. There's no shortcut, no magic trick. You fight with your mind first, then your body follows."

Armaan glanced at him. "How do you know? You've got powers—"

"Power is just a tool. It doesn't mean anything if you can't use it." Dhruv leaned against a nearby pillar, his expression unreadable. "Power without control is chaos. And chaos is your worst enemy."

Armaan wanted to argue, but he knew Dhruv was right. He'd been relying too much on his lack of power and his doubts, instead of focusing on what he could control. His fists clenched. "Then teach me. Show me how to fight."

A small, knowing smirk appeared on Dhruv's face. "Teach you? You don't need me to teach you how to fight, Armaan. You need me to teach you how to survive."

The training continued, but this time, Armaan's focus had shifted. The next few days were a blur of balance exercises, strikes, and movement drills. Every time he faltered, Dhruv was there, telling him to do it again, but in a way that never felt like punishment. Slowly but surely, Armaan began to feel a change.

Meanwhile, Rai and Tanmay were busy with their own training sessions.

"Your movements are too stiff," Tanmay said, his voice sharp. "Loosen up. You can't fight if you're holding back."

Rai frowned, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I'm not holding back. Just trying to focus on technique."

Tanmay let out a short laugh. "Yeah, sure. I can see that. Your technique is like a brick wall. And you're the brick."

Rai narrowed his eyes. "And what do you think you're gonna do with that attitude? You think your punches will fix everything?"

Tanmay grinned, unfazed by Rai's tone. "I don't need technique to beat you."

Before they could continue their verbal sparring, Armaan appeared, looking slightly better than before. Rai waved to him. "Hey, you look less miserable today."

Armaan smiled back but said nothing. He was focused. "I'm ready. Let's go."

Tanmay groaned. "We're not finished yet, Rai."

"I know," Rai replied, getting up to join Armaan. "But Armaan's been working hard. He's got a new attitude, let's see what he's learned."

As they walked out of the training area, a group of 2nd-year students stood nearby, watching them with disinterested eyes. They had grown accustomed to seeing Armaan and his friends as the underdogs. But something had changed—Armaan wasn't the same person who had been laughed at and defeated in the past.

Later that day, as Armaan walked back to his dorm, he saw Neha sitting on a bench, her head down.

"You okay?" he asked, sitting down beside her.

Neha sighed deeply. "I feel like we're stuck, Armaan. Like everyone's passing us by. You've been training non-stop, and even you don't seem to have a real breakthrough."

Armaan paused, feeling the weight of her words. He thought about the last few days—how difficult the training had been, how painful it was to push his limits. But there was something in him now that wasn't there before. He smiled, a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes. "We're not stuck, Neha. We're just getting started."

The next few days were filled with new lessons. For the first time in a long time, Armaan started to believe in his potential. He wasn't the strongest, and he didn't have the hybrid powers his classmates had, but he was learning. And he was getting better.

Each new lesson, each new day, felt like a step toward something greater. The road ahead was still long and full of obstacles, but for the first time, Armaan felt ready to face them.