Chapter 10: Clash Part1
The cold air of the early morning had nothing on the biting chill in Alex's bones as he faced Becca in the training yard. He stood a few paces away from her, arms loose but heart racing, trying to calm the pounding in his chest.
Royce and Evie sat off to the side, watching, while Becca bounced on the balls of her feet, rotating her neck and showing that she was completely at ease. Annoyingly so.
Becca had a light teasing and provocative grin on her face but Alex could tell right away that this wasn't going to be like anything he had experienced before.
He wasn't up against some crude dummies or the playful banter of Royce's obstacle courses.
That was child's play. This was Becca. He could already feel a suffocating weight press down on him to suffocate him, dampen his resolve, make him falter, hesitate 'give up'. The air seemed to whisper.
She wasn't just a fighter. No, that was way to crude to describe Becca. In that moment she felt like much, much more. And she was more, and she was about to show him exactly why.
"Alright, Alex," Becca said, her voice carrying a light, teasing note. But there was something more behind it—something sharp. "We're going to spar, hand-to-hand, no magic. Let's see if your mind is as quick as your spells."
Alex swallowed, trying to suppress his nervousness. His magical abilities had been raw, untrained, but he had shown promise. Here, though, in the physical realm, his confidence wavered.
That obstacle course did little to instill confidence in his fighting prowess in him.
He crouched down and tried to ignore the sweat trickling down his brow, the feeling of adrenaline surging into his muscles, His shortness of breath, and most importantly, that loud drumming that in no way could ever be his heart.
No way I'm feeling this amount of terror from her. Remember, its a spar.
Becca smiled even more ferociously. "Good instincts."
"Don't hold back," he managed, forcing a smirk to cover his unease.
Becca's eyes gleamed. " I don't want to kill you. Yet."
She lunged.
Her movement was far faster than Alex had anticipated. One moment, she was standing still, and the next, she was on him, her fist aimed directly at his chest.
He couldn't even track her movements.
His instincts screamed at him to dodge before he had even registered her presence.
Alex barely even had that time to dodge, stepping back, but the wind of her strike grazed his ribs. Pain flared, and he stumbled.
Becca didn't relent.
Alex had overextended.
Before he could recover, her foot swept at his legs, and he went down, hitting the dirt hard face first. His mind raced as he scrambled to get back on his feet. Becca had returned to her original position, without even breaking a sweat.
"Come on, Alex," she taunted, her voice light but with an edge of challenge. "I thought you wanted to improve."
She was almost sadistic with how much she was enjoying this.
Maybe staying with these weirdos I barely know wasn't the best of ideas.
He clenched his jaw and forced himself upright, adjusting his stance. He wasn't going to be humiliated. Not by her.
His body screamed at him to back down, to acknowledge the difference in their skill levels. He was before the predator, and prey can only run.
But his mind pushed back. This was it, the kind of pressure he needed to push himself.
He was sharp, adaptive. He could learn.
Becca was on him again in a blur of motion. This time, Alex was more attuned to what his instincts were telling him. He emptied his mind and in that emptiness tried to counter, swinging out with a quick jab aimed at her midsection.
His form was off, but he hoped speed would compensate.
It didn't.
Becca deflected the punch with a simple turn of her wrist, redirecting his momentum and sending him sprawling once more.
Her expression hadn't even shifted. It was almost as if she wasn't even trying. In fact, her excitement had faded. Becca was bored.
Alex gritted his teeth. He had barely touched her, let alone come close to landing a solid hit. Every time he tried to get close, Becca's response was swift, precise, and devastating. It was like she could read his every move before he even made it.
"I thought you'd be a little faster," she teased, circling him. "I expected more from someone who handled Royce's warmups so well."
Her words stung, but Alex wasn't about to give in. His muscles burned, and his chest heaved with the effort of keeping up, but he pressed on. This wasn't just about surviving the sparring session—it was about learning.
It was about sheer mindless learning. His mind went blank, and all that remained was the next move, and the next and the next.
Try, fail, regroup, adapt, try again.
Every time Becca hit him, every time she dodged, Alex paid attention. He could feel himself acclimating, his body learning the rhythm of the fight, even if his execution was lacking.
His instincts were coming through clearer and clearer. Almost like a track to lead him to victory, a clear path to success.
He managed to dodge her next attack—a swift elbow aimed at his shoulder—barely sidestepping in time. It was a small victory, but it lit a fire inside him. He was getting there, even if it was painfully slow.
Really painfully.
Becca raised an eyebrow, a hint of approval flashing across her face. "Not bad. You're starting to catch on. Guess its time to make this just a teensy weensy bit harder."
Before Alex could react, she closed the distance again, this time quicker than before. Her knee came up sharply, connecting with his ribs, and the air left his lungs in a painful gasp.
Alex staggered, clutching his side, but he forced himself to remain standing.
Why the hell was he doing this again?