Derek knew something was wrong the moment neither of them left after training.
Bruce stood near the fire, hands clenched at his sides, shoulders tight in a way that had nothing to do with fatigue. Vernon lingered just behind him, arms crossed loosely, posture calm-too calm.
The forest was quiet.
Not peacefully so.
Expectant.
Derek finished wiping down his blade and set it aside. "You're in the way," he said gruffly. "Either speak or move."
Bruce inhaled.
Let it out slowly.
"I want you to train us," he said.
Derek frowned. "I already do."
Bruce shook his head. "No. I mean-" His jaw tightened. "I want you to fight us."
Silence dropped hard.
Vernon watched Derek closely. He saw the instant the words landed-not in anger, not in surprise, but somewhere deeper. Somewhere old.
Derek's expression hardened. "Say that again."
"I want sparring," Bruce said, voice steadier now. "Real sparring. Injuries allowed. Pain allowed. Consequences included."
Derek laughed once.
It was sharp. Bitter.
"Absolutely not."
Bruce didn't flinch. "You didn't let me finish."
Derek's eyes narrowed. "You're still growing."
"And we're already bleeding," Bruce shot back. "Just not from you."
"That's different."
"How?" Bruce demanded. "Because the forest hurts us instead of you?"
Derek stepped forward.
The air shifted.
Not visibly. Not violently.
But Vernon felt it immediately.
Pressure.
Not on his skin-but deeper, as if the space around his chest had tightened. His breath hitched before he realized why.
Bruce staggered half a step, teeth gritting.
Derek hadn't moved.
Hadn't raised his voice.
Hadn't done anything obvious.
"This," Derek said calmly, "is different."
The pressure increased.
Not crushing.
Measured.
Controlled.
Vernon's knees bent instinctively. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, every instinct screaming danger. Mana stirred uselessly inside him, responding too slowly, too weakly to matter.
Bruce clenched his fists, Qi flaring reflexively-and vanished under the weight.
He dropped to one knee.
Not injured.
Just... overwhelmed.
"Dad-" Bruce forced out, breath shallow.
Derek watched them carefully.
Then eased the pressure.
The air loosened.
Vernon sucked in a breath like he'd been underwater. Bruce gasped, hands braced against the dirt.
"This," Derek said quietly, "is what happens when the gap is real."
Bruce didn't look away. "Then close it."
Derek's jaw flexed.
"You think fighting me will make you stronger?" he asked lowly. "You think pain is something I rationed poorly?"
Bruce pushed himself upright. "I think we'll die if we don't learn what it feels like to lose when it matters."
The words hit harder than the pressure.
Derek opened his mouth-
Vernon spoke.
"He's right."
Derek turned sharply. "Vernon."
Vernon met his gaze, pulse still racing. "What you just did-" he gestured vaguely at the space between them, "-that's the future. Not monsters. Not traps. People."
Derek's voice dropped. "You don't understand what that pressure means."
"I do," Vernon said softly. "It means hesitation kills."
The fire crackled.
Melian hovered near the treeline, glow dim, eyes sharp. She said nothing.
"You want to fight with injuries on the line?" Derek asked.
"Yes," Bruce said immediately.
"You want to learn what it means to be outmatched?"
"Yes."
"You want to stand across from someone who knows exactly how to end you-"
"Yes."
The word echoed.
Derek stared at them.
Two boys.
Still unfinished.
Still stubborn.
Too much like her.
"You don't beg," Derek said slowly. "That tells me you think you've already earned this."
Vernon shook his head. "No. It tells you we know we haven't."
Bruce added, "And that scares us more than pain."
Derek turned away, pacing.
"I buried people who trained like this," he said. "People who asked for harsher lessons. You think I don't see their faces when I look at you?"
Vernon's voice softened. "We don't want you to forget them."
Bruce said quietly, "We want you to make it mean something."
Derek stopped.
His shoulders sagged-just slightly.
"...Two months," he said.
Bruce blinked. "What?"
"I won't fight you now," Derek continued. "You'll train harder. Together. With purpose."
Vernon frowned. "And then?"
"And then," Derek said, turning back to them, eyes dark, "you'll feel that pressure again."
Bruce swallowed. "With rules?"
Derek raised a finger.
"No killing intent."
Another.
"No targeting joints."
Another.
"I stop it whenever I want to stop it."
He paused.
"Battle ends when either of you becomes unstable or exhausted."
Vernon asked quietly, "And you?"
Derek's mouth twisted. "I'll hate myself for this."
Bruce nodded. "Then we accept."
"Say it properly."
Bruce straightened. "We accept the risk."
Vernon followed. "And the consequences."
Derek closed his eyes.
For a moment, he looked very tired.
"...If I don't want to see you bleed in the future," he said, "then the blood you shed now has to matter."
Something changed.
Vernon felt it immediately-the restraint in Derek's presence tightening into something harder. Sharper.
Bruce felt it too.
His instincts flared-not fear.
Focus.
Derek planted his feet.
The ground seemed to acknowledge it.
"Two months," Derek said. "Don't waste them."
Bruce smiled.
Not happily.
But fiercely.
"We won't."
Above them, the forest creaked softly.
And Melian, watching from the dark, understood:
This was no longer training.
It was preparation.