Garia moved to the center of the training room, his steps light. His silver hair flowed around him, even with the faint glow of his injuries. He moved like a shadow, like wind through silk.
Takuya watched him, a knot of impatience in his gut. I have the powers now. What else do I need? Just point me at the Iron Cross Army.
"You possess the raw power of my people, Takuya," Garia said, his voice echoing slightly. "But power alone is a wild beast. It requires a master. You lack control, and you lack skill."
Garia's hands moved, tracing patterns in the air, like he was weaving something invisible.
"I will teach you the Way of the Spider."
The Way of the Spider? What even is that?
"It is the ancient martial art of my people," Garia continued, as if reading Takuya's thoughts.
"It harnesses these gifts you now possess. It is more than fighting; it is about sensing the threads of fate, binding with will, striking with venom, and protecting the web of life."
Takuya just stared. Weaving fate? What's he talking about?
He wanted to argue, to say he was ready. His muscles felt alive, buzzing with the alien power. He could feel it just beneath his skin, waiting.
But Garia's eyes, glowing silver-blue, held a deep, ancient wisdom. They seemed to see right through Takuya's impatience, straight to the raw, untamed power that simmered within him.
"The Way of the Spider focuses on agility, on precision," Garia explained. "It is not about brute force alone. It is about moving like silk in the wind, striking with surgical accuracy."
Garia moved then. His body seemed to glide across the metallic floor. There was no sound.
No way that's normal.
He stuck to a wall, his hand flat against it, then he was just up it, moving with a speed that made Takuya blink. It was like watching a blur of red and black. Garia pushed off the wall and flew through the air, covering half the room in a single, impossible leap.
He moves like a ghost.
Faint spider-web patterns, like thin silver lines, lit up on Garia's pale skin as he moved. It was a subtle thing, but it was there, glowing like a secret.
"Balance, efficiency, precision," Garia's voice echoed, distant and calm, even as he twisted in mid-air. "Move like silk in the wind. Strike with venom."
He landed with barely a whisper, a silent warrior. His fingers extended, a quick jab to empty air, and Takuya could almost feel the phantom pressure. It was surgical.
This wasn't like motocross. This was something else entirely. Garia made it look easy, effortless, but Takuya knew better. That kind of control took more than just raw power.
Garia finished his display, stopping exactly where he started. His silver eyes met Takuya's.
"Training begins now."
A jolt ran through Takuya. This was it. No more watching. He felt a mix of nerves and a hot rush of readiness.
Okay, this is happening.
"You will learn the foundational forms of the Way of the Spider," Garia stated, his voice firm. "Agility, balance, controlled strikes."
Garia's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Mistakes will not be tolerated."
Takuya nodded, a tight feeling in his chest. He knew this wouldn't be like crashing a dirt bike.
* * *
Garia pointed to the exact center of the Marveller's vast training room.
"Stand there."
Takuya moved to the spot. The floor felt cold beneath his feet. He glanced at Garia, waiting for the next instruction.
"You will first learn the basic stance, the Low Guard Stance," Garia said. "It is low and wide. Center your weight. You must always be ready to spring."
Takuya bent his knees, widened his stance,
"Deeper," Garia commanded, his voice calm. "Wider. Your weight must center. You are a spring, coiled and ready, not a statue."
Takuya dropped lower. His thighs burned instantly. His back already ached, a dull throb. This was harder than it looked.
Garia walked a slow circle around him. His gaze was critical, unblinking. He pressed a hand to Takuya's shoulder, pushing it down. He prodded Takuya's spine, straightening it slightly.
"The spider does not stand tall. It waits in the web. Patient. Still. Your current form is a broken trap. It screams your presence."
My legs are on fire.
Takuya grit his teeth, forcing his trembling limbs to hold.
The burn in Takuya's legs turned into a full-blown ache. Sweat beaded on his forehead, stinging his eyes. He focused on Garia's silver-blue gaze, trying to ignore the discomfort.
"Now, to control your breathing. Inhale for four counts, hold for two, exhale for six."
Takuya tried. His chest felt tight. His heart beat a frantic rhythm against his ribs. One, two, three, four.
"Hold for two."
He held it, a small hitch in his lungs. The frustration made his focus waver.
"Exhale for six."
His breath escaped in a shaky sigh.
"Your breath is the first thread, Takuya," Garia said. "If it frays, the web collapses. You cannot control your body if you cannot control your breath."
Takuya's racing heart wanted to rebel. It screamed at him to run, to move, to punch something. But Garia's unblinking gaze kept him locked in the uncomfortable exercise. His lungs burned. His legs burned more.
Just breathe. Just hold it. Don't mess up.
He focused on the numbers, on the slow, deliberate rhythm Garia demanded. It was harder than any physical exercise. This was a battle inside his own head.
The Low Guard Stance and Controlled Breath felt like torture. Takuya's muscles ached, but Garia finally moved on.
"Next, we work on your footwork," Garia announced.
Garia demonstrated first. He moved across the metallic floor, a gliding motion that barely disturbed the air. It was like watching a ghost. No sound. No impact. He stopped, silent as the shadows.
"I call it the Silent Step. The predator is unseen until it strikes,"
Takuya tried to imitate it. He took a step, trying to move lightly.
Thump.
The floor beneath his foot emitted a sharp, electronic ping.
Damn it.
He tried again, lifting his foot higher, placing it down softer.
Thump. Ping!
Garia activated something. A grid of thin red lasers snapped into existence, crisscrossing the room. They appeared and disappeared in an unpredictable pattern.
"Move," Garia ordered. "Without sound. Without touching the threads."
Takuya tried to weave through the lasers. He stepped, slid, shifted his weight.
Ping! His foot grazed a sensor.
Garia moved. A hand on Takuya's back, a gentle but firm push that sent him stumbling off course.
"Again," Garia said. "From the beginning."
Takuya gritted his teeth. His usual speed, his motocross reflexes, felt useless here. They were too loud, too heavy. He was used to making noise, leaving dust clouds. Now, silence was the goal.
He felt clumsy, a giant in a room full of invisible tripwires. Each ping of the floor, each brush against a laser, was an arrow of embarrassment.
I can do this. I have to.
He focused, slowing his movements. He watched the lasers, tried to predict their patterns. He imagined himself lighter, like a leaf caught on the wind.
He still triggered the sensors. Each time, Garia pushed him back, his hand a constant, unwelcome reminder of Takuya's failure.
Wall-clinging came next. Garia pointed to a sheer metal wall.
"Ascend," Garia commanded. "Without sound. Without effort."
Takuya pressed his hands and feet to the surface. The alien power in his blood answered, and he stuck. He started to climb, inching his way up. His muscles burned with effort.
This isn't so bad.
He reached the ceiling. His arms trembled as he pulled himself up, then tried to move across it, hand over hand.
My arms are going to fall off.
Suddenly, a section of the ceiling beneath his hand went slick. His grip failed.
WHOOSH!
Takuya plummeted. He hit the floor with a grunt, the impact jarring his teeth.
"Your grip is weak," Garia said, looking down at him.
Garia activated another system. Small, blunt projectiles, like dense rubber balls, shot from hidden panels in the wall. They whizzed past Takuya's head, forcing him to dodge, to move, even while clinging.
He tried again. Up the wall, across the ceiling. He felt the adhesion release beneath his hand. He reacted, shifting his weight, finding a new patch of stickiness before he fell again.
This is ridiculous. I'm Spider-Man, not a gecko!
Garia then made him hold himself inverted from the ceiling. His arms screamed. His core muscles quivered. Sweat dripped onto the floor, blurring his vision.
He felt like a child, being punished. His limbs shook with the strain. He could hear Garia's calm, steady breathing, a stark contrast to his own ragged gasps. This was beyond anything he'd ever experienced on a motocross track. It was pure, raw endurance.
Garia led Takuya to a line of advanced training dummies. They were sleek, metallic, with tiny pressure points that glowed with a faint, shifting light.
"You need to learn how to strike. Hit only these points. Disrupt, do not destroy."
Takuya eyed the dummies. He still felt the ache in his muscles, the lingering frustration. He wanted to hit them hard, to let out some of the energy thrumming under his skin.
He raised his hand and aimed for a glowing point on a dummy's chest. He struck.
CRACK!
The dummy split down the middle. Its internal mechanisms sparked.
Garia sighed.
"Your rage drives your fist, Takuya, but precision guides your strike. Power is a scalpel, not a sledgehammer."
Garia demonstrated. His fingers snapped out, a blur of motion. Each jab landed with surgical accuracy on a glowing point. The dummy shuddered, but remained intact. The glowing points went dark, then re-lit.
Takuya tried again. He focused, trying to channel his strength. He aimed for the smallest point.
CRUNCH!
Another dummy shattered.
Garia's hand wrapped around Takuya's wrist. It was a firm grip, not painful, but unyielding. He guided Takuya's hand, adjusting his fingers, his palm, the angle of his arm. He made Takuya repeat the specific strike, slowly at first, then faster.
Again. Again. Again.
Hundreds of times. His arm began to ache with the repetitive motion. His mind screamed for it to stop. But Garia held his wrist, a silent, relentless presence. Takuya felt his body beginning to adapt. The movement became more fluid, less forced.
Garia began to spar with him. The training room shifted, the floor becoming a shifting pattern of energy constructs. Garia moved with impossible grace, his own form a blur.
"Defending yourself is important. The Way of the Spider uses redirection. Absorb my strike. Deflect it. Do not meet force with force."
Garia sent an energy construct toward Takuya, a glowing blue fist. Takuya tried to slap it away, to block it.
BOOM!
The energy construct exploded against his arm, sending a jolt of pain through him. He stumbled back.
"Again,"
Takuya tried to remember Garia's fluid movements. He held his palm open, tried to move with the force, not against it.
Garia's strike came. Takuya managed to absorb some of the impact, deflecting it to the side. It still stung, but less.
"Now, Hold," Garia said. "Maintain control through adhesion and leverage."
Takuya managed to touch Garia, his hand sticking to Garia's arm. He tried to lock him down, to hold him in place. But Garia simply slipped away, like water through his fingers. He moved with a speed Takuya couldn't match.
Garia exploited every hesitation, every awkward move Takuya made. A light tap to the knee, a gentle push to the shoulder. Each contact left Takuya unbalanced, vulnerable. Garia always seemed to be one step ahead.
"Your grip is a fleeting thought," Garia said. "It must be an unbreakable will."
Garia placed Takuya in a series of vulnerable positions. A hand on his back, a knee behind his leg, a subtle twist that left Takuya on the floor, breathless. Takuya felt inadequate. His raw power meant nothing against Garia's control.
I can't even touch him. He's toying with me.
Takuya struggled to keep up. His muscles burned, screaming with fatigue. He felt a deep, gnawing frustration. He was supposed to be strong, to be the one fighting. Yet, he was being handled like a clumsy child.
Takuya collapsed onto the cold metal floor. His entire body ached. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead, stinging his eyes. He was drenched, exhausted, every muscle screaming in protest. He looked up at Garia, expecting something. A nod. A word of approval. Anything.
Garia's expression remained stoic, unreadable. His silver eyes were calm, distant.
"Continue. Your discomfort is temporary. Professor Monster's Army won't let you rest."
Takuya pushed himself up, every muscle protesting. He ignored the burning in his thighs, the ache in his shoulders. Garia wanted a fight? He would give him a fight. He would give him everything he had left.
***
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