The great iron doors to the throne room opened with a low groan. The girl stepped into the hall of firelight and stone. Torches burned blue along the walls, fed by sulfur gas that shimmered through open vents. The air shimmered with heat, the scent of burnt ash clinging to every breath but it was the man seated at the end of the long corridor who truly stole the breath from her lungs.
He sat upon a blackened throne carved from volcanic rock. He was a mountain of a man, broad-shouldered and cloaked in a sleeveless robe the color of dried blood. His skin was marked with long, ritualistic scars that glowed faintly gold beneath the light.
His hair, a thick mane of copper red, spilled over his shoulders, and from beneath heavy brows stared two molten golden eyes that never blinked. Across his lap rested a Black Crucifix, its presence alone made her stand straighter before him, spine straight, fists clenched behind her back. She'd been summoned, not invited.
His voice was rough like gravel being ground under heel. "You'll be attending a Slayer Academy in the Terran Continent to observe the son of Lightning. Report back on his progress."
That was all? He hadn't asked if she wanted to go. He hadn't asked if she felt ready. And he hadn't once looked at her like she was the reason he summoned her. She bowed low and turned on her heel. As she walked away, her chest tightened with the usual ache.
He actually never saw her for who she was and why would him? His family was too big to care for a single child that wasn't the son of Lightning but one day he would look at her. One day she'd surpass that golden boy. And maybe then—just maybe—he would look at her the way he looked at Soren.
***
A week later and she was watching Omari take off his grappling gun and his jacket. He wore a white shirt under it. The girl tied back her hair and took off her jacket. She had a white bandage wrapped around her chest. She also had bandages around her fists, but those were yellow and bloodied.
They squared up against each other. "Are you sure you aren't too scared to hurt me?" She asked with a smirk, her eyes scanning the field, half-expecting to see that streak of lightning.
"That was a fight. This is a sparring match!" He threw an overhand. She moved her head and hooked his jaw. On impact, the punch exploded and ripped his jaw off before he fell to the ground and passed out. He woke up to the professor's cold touch.
"You had enough?" She asked, squatting beside him.
She has more power than Samson. He quickly got up. "That punch. It exploded, didn't it?"
"Yep, I got sulphur control so I coat my fists in sulfur and ignite the sulfur with every punch."
Omari grinned. "Alright. Let's go again." He squared up. She threw the first jab. He duck, she's slower than Soren without lightning, and was going to get under her guard, but she got him with an explosive uppercut that broke his neck and almost ripped his head from his shoulders.
Another resurrection by the professor. "Again." And so they clashed again and again. Each time she dropped him. Each time the professor healed him. She noticed he was learning fast—faster than anyone she had sparred before. He's watching my combos. Adjusting. That's… interesting, but she was still looking out for Soren.
She began mixing up her combinations to catch him off guard: jab-cross (1, 2), jab-jab-cross (1, 1, 2), jab-rear hook (1, 4), jab-uppercut-hook (1, 6, 3). That last one knocked Omari out clean without sulfur. She looked over her shoulder after a few roundsand caught sight of Soren across the field, electrifyied, as he demolished another student with a fury of punches.
She scowled. Flashy, but remove the lightning and he's slow. Predictable. I could beat him. Omari had been silent the whole time, putting his all into the fight. She hadn't paid much attention to him, instead thinking about all the ways she could beat Soren whilst she beat Omari.
After an hour of fighting though, all her sulphur had burned up, and she was starting to get both physically tired and mentally tired of watching Soren, so she said, "Wait, let's try something."
She put her hands behind her back. "I'm not going to attack you anymore but you gotta try to hit me with all you got." This way I could practice how I'd dodge Lightning boy's attack even if this kid is nowhere fast enough or as skilled.
He came at her with the same combos she'd used, but he was just copying, adding that she was taller and the punches were too easy to dodge. So he switched and tried aiming for her body, but knowing what to expect made dodging those easy, too. Still, she was intrigued by how quickly he was learning.
For someone who started with no knowledge of combinations, he was picking them up fast. Maybe he isn't a nobody. And then, she felt it. Where she expected a body jab, he hit her with a lead uppercut to her liver and followed with a cross to the centre of her chest, pushing her back a few steps.
"A five-two," she said breathlessly. "You used a five-two." Intrigue slipping out of her.
Omari blinked. "A what?"
"A five two, stupid. A lead uppercut followed by a cross. I didn't show you that. Hell, I didn't show you any combo that didn't start with a jab. You made that up." She grinned. "Sure, your form and stance are garbage, but I can beat that into you later."
"So… should we continue?"
She nodded, now fully focused on him. Another thirty minutes later, he would land exactly zero punches but with every miss he picked up something and something about that just excited her. No one ever learns this fast, not even Soren.
That didn't matter because he had learnt a lot at the end of the day. So before he parted ways with her, he asked, "Is it fine if we train together every Monday?"
"Why stop at Monday?" she said. "I'm down to fight every day. It's fun watching you grow. Good for my mobility too—I've never had to dodge so much." She cracked her neck. "And don't worry, I've got skills outside of boxing too."
"Really!" Omari asked, and she nodded. "Great, my name is Omari, by the way. What's yours?"
"Athena, Athena Ferren." She looked behind Omari for a moment. Then, her gaze shifted past Omari. Her breath caught. There he is. Soren was walking toward them, eyes sharp, white hair catching the wind. She tensed. He's here. Father's golden boy. His opponent had barely touched him—he moved like lightning incarnate.
Athena's heart thumped, not with admiration, but frustration. Of course, he's fast. That's all he has—his lightning. Strip him of it and I'd crush him. "Son of Lightning." She called.
Soren's eyes brushed past her, settling on Omari. "Another person with my father's name in their mouth," he muttered. "Let's go, Omari."
Omari glanced between them. The air was tight. He smiled. "Nice meeting you, Athena." She blinked, the moment deflating slightly. You too, she wanted to say. But instead, she just watched him go.
With four hours to kill before supper, Omari went looking for Samson but found no sign of him. Instead, he trained alone on the field. He did two 400m sprints, 100 weighted pushups, 100 weighted squats, and lastly, a ten-minute dragon flag before supper came.
Supper was… fine. The hunger definitely improved its taste, but Omari couldn't help but think of his dad's cooking. After supper, the students went to the dormitories, took a shower, the clean ones at least, and went to sleep. To Omari's left was Soren, sound asleep. To his right was supposed to be Samson, but he was nowhere to be seen after supper.
Where is he? Omari thought before drifting off. He opened his eyes to a blinding white room. He saw the back of his own head. His hair was white. He tried to turn, but the other version of him turned first—red eyes meeting red.
He woke up with a gasp, back in the dorms. These dreams… I thought I'd left them behind. But he wasn't a dream controller. Little did he know that the dreams would shape more than just his nights. They would carve his fate.
And somewhere in another room, Athena Ferren stared at the ceiling, eyes wide, wondering not about Soren—but about Omari. He's different. And he might be worth watching.