"Ready… Hit!"
CLACK!
"Harder!"
CLACK!
"Harder!"
CLACK!
The echo of Colt and Raphael's staffs colliding reverberated through the crisp dusk air.
Trifon shook his head. "Still not good enough." he paced over to Colt, snatching his staff and preparing a stance in front of Raphael. "Ready?" He asked.
Raphael nodded.
"Hit me."
Placing all of his power and control into a single striking motion, Raphael struck Trifon, who effortlessly dodged and hit Raphael back, catching him off guard.
"Again."
Raphael attempted another numerous times, but was consistently battered by Trifon's counters.
Colt and Khafra watched as their fellow squad mate was being used as just another mere display of Trifon's vexation.
It was mutually concluded among the three of them that Raphael was the better fighter, but they dared not to suggest the shared sentiment to Trifon, who would undoubtedly work the three to perfection without another second of leisure to spare.
One last time, Raphael swung his staff with Trifon's, the two pressed against one another in a standoff.
"The tournament is less than two months away," Trifon complained. "We've been practicing non-stop since before the instruction year began, and you're still too weak!"
"Shut up, damn it!" Raphael thought as he resisted Trifon's strength. "Day in and day out, we work. He's just too stuck up to see it!"
As Raphael applied more force in resistance, Trifon pulled away. Unbalanced, Raphael brushed past Trifon before getting kicked in his back.
Out of frustration, Raphael wildly swung his staff at Trifon once more, who effortlessly raised his arm, breaking the staff on impact, shriveling it into nothingness like a dying plant.
Trifon shook his head and directed his attention to Khafra and Colt. "What's the problem, huh?"
The three cadets remained silent.
"That wasn't rhetorical! Please help me understand what the problem is."
Colt prepared to speak but had no idea how he should have responded. Before he could say a word, Raphael interjected, breathing heavily, still knelt down to the ground on one knee.
"You expect too much."
Trifon turned around. "What?"
"We're capable, but you expect too much. We train day after day, night and day and you're still not impressed.
We're already set to be one of the two trios representing our squadron in the tournament, and I'd say we have a fair shot on making it far."
Khafra began speaking. "With all due respect, Lieutenant, we've been at it all day. Do you think we could have a small break?"
Trifon laughed. "Progress isn't perfection. Your main goal shouldn't be obtaining a ticket in, it shouldn't even just be trampling any and everyone else there.
You should have your sights set far beyond the tournament. You don't get points for mere participation. Bear this mindset with anything you do in life."
Initially turned away from the cadets, Trifon turned around to face them again as they all stood close together, an expression of irritation on Raphael's face, concern on Khafra's and indifference on Colt's.
"That isn't attitude, Raph, right? That can't be attitude." Trifon approached Raphael with a frown followed by a half-hearted chuckle.
"No sir," Raphael responded, looking off toward the ground. "No problem at all."
"Great, I'd hope not," Trifon got into Raphael's face as to provoke him. "I'd hate to have to make you drop and give me however many push-ups I say until I'm done and satisfied seeing you beg and wail for mercy."
He snuck a look at Colt and Khafra before looking back into Raphael's eyes. "Don't let it happen again."
He stood upright, returned Colt's staff and walked away, gesturing with a hand. "Take five."
Khafra and Colt gathered around Raphael. "What do we do now?" Khafra asked.
"Only thing we can do," Colt responded. "Do what he says." He walked over to a nearby sparring court.
"Where are you going?"
Once he reached the center of the court, Colt turned toward Khafra and Raphael and raised his arms out to his sides. "Come on!" He shouted.
Raphael wiped his face before standing up and making his way to the court, a wooden staff erected from a closed palm. Khafra followed close behind him.
"Assume your corners," Colt said as he and Raphael backed into a couple. Khafra centered herself on the opposite side of the court away from the duo.
"Colt," Khafra started. "We do this all the time. What's all this about?"
"I'm paying no mind to what Lieutenant says," he responded. "My efforts to become stronger are of my own will, as I'm sure he would want them to be.
Think about our MO, your Sand, Raph's Wood, my Ice," he raised his empty hand, the other grasping his staff. Miniature shards of ice levitated above his palm.
"If we put these together, seamlessly, it's going to be hard for many other people to top that.
And I don't know about you, but I really feel like we're close."
Khafra let out a half-suppressed laugh and assumed a fighting stance, as did Raphael. "Sure."
Promptly, the three rushed each other, meeting at the center of the stage. Their staffs collided before they recoiled back to their respective zones.
"Try me again," Colt waved his staff, preparing for a pending attack.
Khafra attacked again, her and Colt dancing and trading strikes between each other. Suddenly, Raphael instigated the battle further with attacks of his own.
However, instead of a battle between three individuals, the fight developed into a two-on-one as Raphael's attacks were intended solely for Colt.
Luckily for him, Khafra and Raphael struggled to land any hits, much to their annoyance.
"I'm getting tired of this," Raphael raised an arm as Colt retreated. "Khafra, I'm going to do it."
Khafra nodded her head. "You first, then me."
"Yes!" Colt exclaimed. "That's it! That's what we need. Show me what you've got!"
Raphael threw his raised arm ahead in Colt's direction. Numerous thick cuboid columns of wood grew from his forearm and hand and swiftly extended outward toward Colt. "Wood MO: Timber Hedges!"
Khafra followed Raphael's attack with one of her own. She knelt down to the ground and touched it with her fingertips.
Sand began to leave them and travel across the ground toward Colt.
"Sand MO: Quicksand."
Familiar with how their Modi operated, Colt devised a genius plan.
Immediately, he darted toward Raphael, weaving through his wooden cuboid columns.
Nearing him, he formed icicles in the palm of his hand that synthesized together and formed a longer javelin.
"Counter this!" Colt commanded as he thrusted the javelin toward Raphael's chest.
Quickly, Raphael defended by extending his unhindered arm out, using the wooden columns that would extend from it to block Colt's attack.
Having his assault successfully rejected, Colt flipped backward to create space between the two of them.
However, Khafra's sand still followed close behind in pursuit, so he had to make a move.
Colt lapped around Raphael, continuing to dodge his wood. Although Khafra's sand still followed him, everything seemed to be going according to plan.
After enough running, the sand circled around Raphael.
"Exactly what I needed," Colt thought to himself before jumping high into the air to attack him once more.
"Damn," Raphael thought to himself. "Clever, he had Khafra's sand wrap around me so I couldn't move.
The sand continued to trail Colt despite him being airborne, now approaching Raphael.
Quickly, Raphael recalled the pillars and took precautions by elevating himself atop an erected wooden stage. Colt landed on top of it with him.
Unfortunately, this didn't stop Khafra's sand from climbing it as it was still in pursuit.
"Khafra!" Raphael called earnestly. "Call the sand off! He's trying to get it to come for me!"
"I'm trying!" Khafra retorted, struggling to redirect the sand away from the two.
"Well, try harder!"
Finally, Colt inched closer toward Raphael, a fist covered with ice. "Great fight, Raph!" He called. "It's my turn to shine now!"
"All I can do is hope this one last counter does the job," Raphael thought to himself.
"Here it is!" He yelled as he covered his fist with wood and matched it with Colt's.
The three cadets paused for a moment in a stalemate before they could hear Trifon clapping slowly from a distance, approaching the sparring court.
"Not bad!" He shouted. "But it could still be better."
The cadets turned their attention to him. Raphael rolled his eyes.
"Were you watching that whole time?" Colt asked.
"Of course I was," Trifon responded.
"Khafra, great support, but get that Modus under control. And be more aggressive.
You'd think that sitting behind in plain sight would conceal you, but even the most average of fighters will keep their eye on you.
You must watch your back as well.
Colt, great job taking the initiative. Bold of you to become the opposition of everyone else.
However, be more cautious of pushing your adversaries' domains and develop your MO for ranged attacks.
And as for you, Raph," Trifon paused for a moment before continuing on. "It's just not good enough. If you want to be the leader of this team, you need to become more versatile.
Find variety in your attack patterns. Don't stand stationary for so long. You need to initiate the communication with your squad mates so there is no confusion."
"Anything else?" Raphael asked with subtle sarcasm.
"Actually, yes. I spoke with Lieutenant Newman and I've just received word regarding the formatting of the tournament.
The three of you will spar another trio within the squadron for the first round.
We don't have another set, so I wouldn't be surprised if it comes down to using placeholders who I'll instruct to forfeit.
Either way, you should expect to advance and face off against the Big Three before the final match." Trifon subtly shook his head, which didn't sit right with the cadets.
"So? No big deal." Raphael assured. "So what if everyone loves them?"
"They're no better than us," Khafra added. "We're more than capable of taking them on."
Trifon pointed his finger at them with a subtle pleasant sensation of pride. "I like the attitude. You feel that weight?"
"That's the weight of the chips," responded Colt.
"Exactly, and what do you do with it?"
Raphael finished the saying. "We carry it, no matter how heavy, and we use it to make us stronger."
Trifon nodded his head. "Great job, you three. Now get back in line, we're not done yet."
"What?!" The cadets groaned. "We just practiced without you, and we've been at it all day. Can't we call it?"
"Is that complaining?" Trifon ignored. "I would hope it isn't. Otherwise, we might never stop."
Silently, the cadets reluctantly did as Trifon commanded.
"Good, now drop and give me five hundred.
I gave you five minutes to rest. The five minutes are long gone, and you continued to practice without my permission. We didn't have to stop in the first place."
"Sir," Raphael, Colt, and Khafra responded with a lack of enthusiasm.