The sparring ring fell silent as the other squad members gathered around, their curiosity piqued. Renard stepped forward with a calm, almost predatory confidence, his movements fluid and precise. He carried himself like a man who had honed every fiber of his being for battle. It was evident why he was a captain—his stance alone exuded authority and experience.
Asher mirrored him, his posture straight, arms loose but ready. Though his system-enhanced fighting skills made him a martial arts grandmaster in technique, his E-rank body lacked the raw physical power and durability of an A-rank like Renard. This was a battle not just of skill, but of sheer physical superiority.
Renard struck first, his movements a blur. A high kick aimed for Asher's temple forced him to duck, but the follow-up punch landed squarely on his ribs. The impact reverberated through Asher's body, sending him staggering back.
"Fast," Asher muttered under his breath, wiping his mouth. Renard smirked.
"Fast? I'm holding back," Renard replied, rushing in again.
Asher retaliated with a series of precise strikes, targeting Renard's pressure points. Each move was executed flawlessly, a testament to his grandmaster-level technique. He landed a palm strike on Renard's shoulder and pivoted to deliver a spinning kick aimed at his midsection. Renard grunted but barely flinched.
"Not bad," Renard said, brushing off the attack like it was nothing. "But skill alone won't cut it. Your body can't keep up with me."
Renard launched a powerful uppercut that Asher narrowly dodged. Even so, the force of the missed attack sent a gust of wind whipping past Asher's face. Before he could recover, Renard closed the distance, his elbow crashing into Asher's abdomen with crushing force. Asher gasped, his legs wobbling as he struggled to remain standing.
"You see?" Renard said, stepping back to allow Asher a moment to collect himself. "This is why rank matters. No matter how skilled you are, you can't make up for the difference in physical capability."
Asher straightened up, his gaze steady despite the pain radiating through his body. He wasn't one to give up easily. Summoning his resolve, he switched tactics, using his superior technique to weave around Renard's strikes, landing glancing blows on exposed areas. His hits were precise but lacked the power to deal significant damage.
Renard, however, was unrelenting. His movements grew faster and more aggressive, his strikes heavier. He swept Asher's legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. Before Asher could rise, Renard pressed his boot against Asher's chest, pinning him.
"It's over," Renard said firmly, his voice tinged with respect. "You've got talent, Magnus, but you're not ready to face someone like me."
Asher stared up at him, breathing heavily. Despite his loss, there was no frustration in his eyes—only determination. This was a lesson he would not forget.
Renard removed his foot and offered a hand. "Get stronger. With your potential, I want to see how you'll fare next time."
Asher took the hand and rose to his feet, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Next time, Captain, I won't lose."
The crowd around them murmured in admiration. Even in defeat, Asher had earned their respect with his skill and composure. Google search Novel~Fire. (n)et
Renard nodded as he walked away, heading back to his quarters. Once inside, he sighed in relief, leaning back in his chair. "Just what do they feed them in the Magnus family? How can he be so strong?" he mumbled, glancing at his hand, which was slightly red and sore. "If he were even B or C rank, I'd have lost that sparring match," he admitted to himself, shaking his head in disbelief.
"It's good for us anyway," he added with a smirk. "Those Metis bastards were getting cocky lately, flaunting their so-called pride. Now's the time to remind them who's in charge."
Renard sat at his desk, picking up his pen as he began writing a detailed report about each member of his squad.
Renard carefully jotted down his observations, his sharp mind analyzing each squad member's strengths and weaknesses.
Strengths: Exceptional combat instinct and mastery of martial techniques, despite being limited by his E-rank physique. Shows a willingness to adapt and learn quickly. Potential to be a game-changer in squad engagements.
Weaknesses: Physical limitations due to current rank. Relies heavily on skill and tactics, which may falter against overwhelming force. Needs to develop better stamina for prolonged engagements.
Renard paused, tapping the pen against the desk. "He's a diamond in the rough," he muttered, then added, "but if he doesn't push through his rank limitations soon, it might cost him."
"But given he is Magnus and is graduate from World Academy , I guess I don't have to worry about his progress" he mumbled as he closed his file.
Renard worked his way down the list, assigning notes and potential training recommendations for each soldier. Most were competent but lacked Asher's spark of genius. It irked him that someone so young, so raw, could still leave such an impression.
After finishing the report, Renard leaned back with a sigh, staring at the ceiling. "If Magnus keeps this up, he'll not only surpass me but make me look like a fool in front of the higher-ups." He chuckled bitterly. "Guess I'll have to sharpen my own skills to keep up with the prodigy."
As he closed the file, a faint knock sounded at the door. "Enter," he called.
A messenger stepped in, saluting crisply. "Captain Renard, there's a directive from command. A high-priority mission briefing is scheduled for tomorrow. You and your squad are to attend."
Renard nodded. "Understood. Dismissed."
As the door shut, Renard stood, stretching. "Looks like we're about to see how this squad handles real danger," he mused. His gaze darkened. I hope the Magnus prodigy is ready. The battlefield shows no mercy.
The next morning, the Alpha Squad gathered in the briefing room. The air was heavy with anticipation as Renard stood at the front, a tactical map projected behind him. Each member of the squad sat silently, their faces reflecting varying levels of curiosity, concern, and determination.
Renard cleared his throat, commanding their attention. "Listen up. Command has issued a high-priority mission. This isn't a drill or some border patrol assignment. We're moving into hostile territory—enemy-controlled zones. The Metis forces have established a forward operating base deeper in the region, and we're tasked with reconnaissance and sabotage."