The training deck hummed with energy. Orion stood in the center, holding the Nebula Sword in his hands. The smooth metallic surface felt cold under his grip, yet it thrummed with a faint warmth, as if the energy within was waiting to be unleashed. Around him, holographic targets flickered into place—star-shaped forms, shifting and rotating in intricate patterns.
His mother's words echoed in his mind: "The Nebula Sword is key to using star energy in new ways. Use it wisely."
He steadied his breath, focusing. His hands tightened on the hilt, and he willed the sword to respond. Nothing. The star energy remained dormant, a sleeping giant inside the blade. Frustration simmered within him. He had spent hours studying his mother's research, yet the secrets of the sword remained elusive.
A soft hiss of the training deck's door caught his attention. Orion turned to see Layla step inside, her long black hair tied neatly behind her head, eyes sharp as ever. She moved with a quiet confidence, her own Nebula Sword slung over her back. Unlike Orion, Layla was a master of the weapon, wielding it with ease and precision that few could match.
"Struggling, Starlight?" Layla's voice carried a teasing edge, though her dark eyes held a hint of amusement.
Orion sighed. "You could say that. I've read the research, practiced the forms, but it's like I'm missing something. The sword won't respond to me."
Layla approached, her boots clicking softly on the metal floor. "That's because you're treating it like a tool." She unsheathed her sword in a fluid motion, the blade glowing faintly. "The Nebula Sword isn't just a weapon. It's a conduit. You're trying to force it, but you need to let it flow."
She stepped beside him, her presence both comforting and intimidating. Layla had trained with the Nebula Sword long before Orion had even touched one. Her skills were legendary among those who sought to harness the energy of stars.
Orion frowned. "Flow? What does that even mean?"
Layla smirked, her eyes glinting. "Watch."
With a practiced flick of her wrist, Layla activated her Nebula Sword. The blade began to glow, its edges shimmering with the vibrant hues of distant stars—blues, purples, and bright whites. She moved with grace, weaving her blade through the air, sending arcs of starlight across the training deck. The holographic targets shattered one by one as she danced through them, her movements fluid and precise.
It was over in seconds. Layla lowered her sword, the glow fading as the last of the targets dissolved into digital particles.
Orion's jaw tightened, a mix of awe and frustration welling inside him. "You make it look easy."
"It's not about strength," Layla said, sheathing her sword. "It's about attuning yourself to the energy around you. The stars are alive, Orion. You have to listen to them, feel their rhythm."
He let out a slow breath, nodding, though his frustration didn't fully dissipate. "I've tried... I've been trying, but it feels like something's blocking me."
Layla's expression softened. "It's not your technique. It's your focus. You're thinking too much about the sword, and not enough about the stars themselves." She stepped closer, her voice lowering. "You know, your mother once told me the same thing."
Orion's heart skipped a beat. "You knew my mother?"
Layla gave a small nod, her gaze shifting away. "I studied under her for a time, before..." She hesitated, then met his eyes. "Before the accident. She was the one who taught me everything I know about the Nebula Sword. Her knowledge was unmatched, but it wasn't just about science for her. She understood the connection between the stars and the sword better than anyone."
Orion's throat tightened. He hadn't known Layla had such a close connection to his mother. It felt strange, almost intimate, to hear someone else speak of her with such familiarity.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice quieter now.
Layla's lips curled into a faint smile. "You never asked."
Silence settled between them, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Orion shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say next. Layla had always been distant, focused solely on her training. But now, there was something different, a vulnerability in her that he hadn't noticed before.
"I'll help you," Layla said suddenly, breaking the silence. "With the Nebula Sword, I mean. Your mother trusted me with her teachings, and it's only right that I pass them on to you."
Orion's eyes widened. "You'd do that?"
She nodded. "But on one condition."
"What's that?"
Layla's smile turned playful again, her earlier warmth flickering out. "You have to keep up. I don't slow down for anyone, Starlight."
Orion chuckled, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "Deal."
They spent the next hour on the training deck. Layla guided Orion through a series of exercises, showing him how to relax his grip, focus on his breathing, and let the star energy flow naturally through the blade. She demonstrated the connection between the wielder and the weapon, emphasizing that it wasn't about control—it was about harmony.
By the end of the session, Orion could feel the shift. The Nebula Sword, once cold and unyielding in his hands, now pulsed with a faint warmth, responding ever so slightly to his will.
"You're getting there," Layla said, her tone approving as she sheathed her sword. "But it'll take time. The sword won't fully trust you until you learn to trust yourself."
Orion wiped the sweat from his brow, feeling a mix of exhaustion and excitement. "Thanks, Layla. I—"
Before he could finish, an alarm blared through the station, cutting through the quiet of the training deck. Layla's eyes sharpened as she turned toward the source of the sound.
"That's the emergency signal," she said, her voice suddenly tense. "Something's happening."
Orion's heart raced. He grabbed his sword and followed Layla toward the exit, the weight of the Nebula Sword now a little lighter in his hand.
Whatever was coming, they would face it together.