One full week of relentless training passed under the direct supervision of Captain Fantastica, sanctioned explicitly by Evermend herself. There were no half days and no shortcuts. From the moment the rookies arrived until their bodies finally gave out, Fantastica kept them moving through a brutal rotation of holographic combat simulations and real-world obstacle courses designed to punish hesitation and reward precision.
Each session had intent behind it. Fantastica wasn't interested in generic improvement. He dissected their weaknesses and rebuilt them piece by piece.
With Liza, his focus was situational awareness. He flooded her simulations with overlapping threats, forcing her to track movement, sound, and environmental shifts all at once. Ambushes came from blind spots, false signals masked real danger, and any lapse earned immediate correction. He pushed her to think three moves ahead while fighting in the present.
Braxton's training centered on discipline. His raw strength was undeniable, but Fantastica made it clear that power without structure was wasted potential. He drilled footwork, balance, and strike control, forcing Braxton to slow down and commit to form. Every sloppy swing was met with a sharp rebuke and a reset. Over time, the chaos in his movements began to tighten into something more deliberate.
Justin's regimen was the most physically punishing. Fantastica steadily increased his workload, stacking weight onto already absurd lifts and extending endurance drills well past comfort. Justin's strength was immense, but Fantastica saw the gap between what he could do and what he actually used. Each day pushed that ceiling higher, revealing just how much untapped power still lay dormant.
Throughout it all, Fantastica offered advice sparingly but precisely. His tone was harsh, his expectations unforgiving. He made it clear that the battlefield showed no mercy, and neither would he.
The rookies understood. Bruised, exhausted, and burning with resolve, they pushed forward anyway, determined to meet the standard being set before them.
After a grueling day of drills, obstacle courses, and combat simulations, Captain Fantastica finally called an end to training. He leaned against the edge of the training room with a wide, genuine smile that seemed almost out of place after the punishing day. "Good work today, all of you," he said, nodding at each of them. "You each pushed yourselves hard, and I can see the progress."
Then, just as the rookies started to relax, he dropped the next challenge on them. "But don't get too comfortable," he continued, his grin widening. "Tomorrow, we test all of it. A mock battle, you three against me. And I'm not taking it easy. I might not be a spring chicken anymore, but I've been in the hero game for over twenty years. I can still hang with kids like you."
He paused, tilting his palms toward them. Magic circles flared faintly in his skin, glowing for just a moment. "Also," he added casually, "my abilities are fairly similar to the Cleaner's. Consider this a warning." And with that, he strode out of the training room, leaving a tangible tension in the air.
The three rookies collapsed in unison. Bodies sprawled across the floor, arms splayed, backs pressed against the cool matting. Deep, exhausted sighs escaped them.
Braxton, still in his human form, propped himself on an elbow, grinning despite the exhaustion. "You know," he said, voice rough, "I'm actually looking forward to it. Should be fun."
Liza, arms crossed and breathing heavily, shook her head. "You won't be saying that tomorrow," she muttered. "I've seen Fantastica in action. He isn't joking. Probably the toughest B-rank hero I've ever trained under."
Justin lays back silent for a beat, staring at the ceiling with an unusually serious expression. Then his lips twitched. "I'm just… pondering whether there's a good pun for 'Captain' I can use tomorrow," he said, eyes twinkling.
Liza groaned, rolling her eyes, while Braxton let out a small, tired chuckle, shaking his head. Despite their exhaustion, the hint of humor reminded them that even in the face of brutal training, they weren't alone, and maybe they were ready for what was coming next.
Braxton yawned loudly and was the first to sit up, stretching his arms over his head until his joints popped. "Man, I'm beat," he said, rolling to his feet. "But I've got places to be before I pass out." He grabbed a towel, slung it around his neck, and flashed them both a grin before heading for the exit, waving once over his shoulder. "See you both tomorrow. Stay alive and all that."
The doors slid shut behind him, leaving the training hall quiet except for the low hum of the equipment cooling down.
Justin and Liza stayed where they were, flat on their backs, staring up at the ceiling. After a moment, Justin groaned softly and pushed himself upright, rubbing the back of his neck. Every muscle protested, but he ignored it and glanced down at Liza.
"With all this training," he said, voice casual but sincere, "I'm hoping you're at least a little more confident we can take on the Decay Group."
Liza didn't move at first. Then she turned her head to look at him, wings folded tight against her back. "I still have doubts," she admitted. "I'd be stupid not to." She exhaled slowly. "But tomorrow might change things. If we can prove ourselves against someone like Fantastica… maybe our little trio actually stands a chance against whatever they send next."
Justin's mouth curved into a smirk. He raised an eyebrow. "Trio, huh." He tilted his head. "Sounds like you're already planning to keep this team together after probation."
Liza closed her eyes for a second and sighed, the corner of her mouth betraying her. She lifted one hand toward him. "If I admit yes," she said, "are you going to help me up, or just stand there being smug?"
Justin laughed under his breath and took her hand. "Deal."
He pulled her to her feet with a steady grip. For a brief moment, they stood there, hands still clasped. Then they shook once, firm and deliberate.
"This should be fun, partner," Justin said.
He headed for the door, pausing just long enough to glance back. "Let's kick Fantastica's ass tomorrow."
The doors slid shut behind him.
Liza remained where she was, watching the empty doorway. Her expression softened, then grew distant. Images surfaced unbidden. Her family. The loss. The reason the name Decay still made her chest tighten.
The fear was still there. It probably always would be. But beneath it, something else stirred. Resolve. And, unexpectedly, hope.
A small smile touched her lips. "Yeah," she murmured to the empty room. "Let's kick Fantastica's ass."