I took my stance in front of the high-tech training dummy, adjusting my grip on the practice spear exactly where Tsukishima had positioned my hands. The dummy's metallic surface glinted in the morning light streaming through the windows. It wasn't a simple sandbag—these were academy-grade training units with pressure sensors, movement tracking, and impact analysis that would give detailed feedback on every hit.
"Basic stance, basic thrust," I muttered to myself. "Even I can handle that."
I planted my feet shoulder-width apart, took a breath, and lunged forward with the spear. The tip connected with the center mass target, sending ripples of blue light across the dummy's surface. A small holographic display appeared showing "37% optimal force" in yellow numbers.
Not great, but not terrible for a fat lottery kid who could barely do a pull-up two days ago.
