The wind tore through the training grounds like a living predator, rattling the steel beams of the arena and stirring the scent of ozone and dust. The towering walls of U.A.'s combat arena rose around them, their surfaces scarred from years of hero training. The afternoon sun cut sharp lines across the polished steel floor, glinting off the metallic structures and reflecting into Auron's golden eyes.
Lyra stood behind the safety barrier, her small hands gripping the railing. Her wide purple eyes were fixed on him, filled with equal parts awe and worry. "Big brother… are you sure you can do this?"
Auron didn't answer. He didn't need to. Words were irrelevant. His mind ran through calculations, angles, wind direction, the distance between himself and Eraser Head, and every variable the Pro Hero could exploit. Predict, counter, control. That was the only rule.
Eraser Head appeared at the far end of the arena, scarf snapping in the fierce gusts. His eyes, sharp and calculating, narrowed at Auron. "This isn't a sparring session with other students," he said, voice low but firm. "You're facing a professional. One mistake, and I'll make sure you feel the consequences. Do you understand?"
Auron's golden eyes met his. Calm, unshaken. "I understand."
The wind picked up again, swirling violently, whipping dust and small debris across the arena floor. Auron felt it shift around him, felt the edges of the gust bend subtly as it brushed past the Aetherion energy coursing through his body. I can use this. Every flicker of wind, every ripple in the air could be weaponized, used to augment his portals and blades.
Eraser Head's stance was perfect — slight crouch, weight balanced, scarf coiling around his arms like a living extension. "Begin."
The Pro Hero lunged instantly, scarf lashing like a whip aimed at Auron's midsection. The attack was precise, deadly, designed to test reflexes rather than cause harm. Auron's hands moved before thought. Blue rings shimmered into existence beneath his feet — a pair of Aether Gates — and the scarf vanished into a portal, reappearing harmlessly above the arena wall.
Eraser Head blinked, then smirked. "Not bad. Quick thinking. But reaction time isn't enough. Anticipation is what matters."
Auron's mind raced. Anticipation. Predict the trajectory, the timing, the angle… He opened another portal at the far side of the arena, almost invisible. As Eraser Head swept his scarf down in another lethal arc, Auron vanished into the portal, reappearing behind the hero in an instant.
Blue aetheric blades shimmered into existence, forming a rotating halo around him like spinning stars. Each blade hovered in perfect symmetry, ready to intercept any attack. Auron advanced, careful not to overcommit, careful to conserve energy.
Eraser Head twisted, scarf deflecting the blades with a metallic hiss. "Hmm. You've got control… but can you handle unpredictability?"
Before Auron could react, Eraser Head leapt high, scarf whipping through the air like a living weapon. He struck downwards at impossible speed. Auron opened a portal beneath the arena tiles, redirecting the force upward. The strike slammed into the portal's edge, vanishing harmlessly. The ground quaked slightly as debris flew into the air.
Lyra clutched the railing, her breath quick. "Big brother…"
Auron ignored her for now. Observation, always observation. He studied Eraser Head's movements: the subtle shifts of weight, the timing of the scarf's coils, the micro-adjustments that indicated attacks before they happened. Every flick of the scarf, every pivot of the body became data.
The Pro Hero noticed it too. "You're analyzing… everything. Calm. Predictable. Dangerous."
Auron's lips twitched faintly, almost imperceptibly. I am. I have to be.
The spar escalated. Eraser Head launched a series of rapid attacks, each scarf strike faster than the last. Auron countered with precision, teleporting between portals, sending aetheric blades spinning in arcs that met every attempt. The air shimmered, warped by the energy of portals and the force of scarf strikes. Sparks of friction and energy lit up the arena, a miniature storm of motion and light.
But Eraser Head wasn't just testing speed or power. He began using indirect attacks — smashing the ground to create vibrations, snapping the scarf into unpredictable arcs, forcing Auron to predict multiple variables at once.
Auron's mind calculated every possibility. Weight, force, angle, distance, trajectory… counter, evade, redirect. He shifted his body mid-step, opening multiple portals simultaneously, redirecting scarf strikes into empty space. Each move was precise, efficient. He wasn't flashy; he was lethal in efficiency.
The wind howled louder, swirling violently through the arena, interacting with Aetherion's energy. Auron adjusted for it, letting gusts push his portals subtly, altering the trajectory of attacks without lifting a finger. He became like a ghost in the storm — everywhere and nowhere, a blur of golden eyes and shimmering blue light.
Eraser Head's expression darkened slightly. "Interesting… not just control. Strategy. And you're using environmental factors too."
Auron's chest rose and fell steadily, calm, almost bored. But inside, his mind raced. One mistake, and it could end. But I can push further. I can test limits. I must.
He extended both hands, opening a complex array of portals around the arena. Some floated above the ground, some behind obstacles, some along the walls. Aetheric blades hovered in every direction, rotating, waiting. Eraser Head launched a final, powerful strike — a sweeping arc aimed to break Auron's defense.
Auron's eyes flicked, calculating — then he stepped lightly, disappeared into a portal at the last second, and reappeared above the hero. Two aetheric blades coalesced into a concentrated strike, slashing downward toward Eraser Head's side. The Pro Hero blocked, but the force of the strike pushed him back slightly.
The arena fell silent for a heartbeat. Dust swirled in the fading wind.
Eraser Head straightened, scarf snapping as he chuckled softly. "You've done well. Exceptional control for someone your age. Most adults couldn't maintain that precision under stress. You're ready… but remember, even skill like yours is meaningless without judgment and restraint."
Auron's golden eyes locked on him. "I understand."
Lyra ran forward once the sparring ended, her eyes wide with admiration. "Big brother… you fought Eraser Head! You were amazing!"
Auron glanced at her, his face calm, unreadable, but his golden eyes softened slightly. "This isn't about amazing," he said quietly. "It's about surviving. Always surviving."
Eraser Head clapped him on the shoulder, a faint smile beneath his mask. "Keep that mind. Keep that control. You're going to go far, kid. Just… don't lose yourself to pride or fear."
Auron nodded. He flexed his fingers, feeling Aetherion hum faintly along his skin. The wind had died down, leaving a quiet pulse of energy in the arena. He looked out over the training grounds — the sprawling fields, the steel walls, the distant city beyond. Every obstacle, every opponent, every challenge now felt like data, like variables waiting to be solved.
Lyra tugged at his sleeve. "Big brother… can we stay a little longer? I want to see you practice more."
Auron looked at her, then back at the arena. The wind whispered faintly through the structures, carrying the scent of dust, ozone, and power. He allowed himself a faint smile. "Yes. But you stay safe. Always."
As the sun dipped low, painting the sky in orange and gold, Auron focused on the blue energy shimmering at his wrists. He had faced one of the greatest heroes alive — and survived. Not by luck. Not by strength alone. By calculation, control, and cold precision.
And beneath it all, his vow remained unbroken: No one will ever hurt Lyra again. I will rise. I will master Aetherion. And I will not fail.
The wind howled one last time through the arena, carrying that promise across the training grounds. And somewhere in the shadows, the echo of a new hero being forged whispered through the air.