Chapter 68: The Sky Above the Sky
Sylvie raised an eyebrow, her tone sharp. "You want me to break him? Or just teach him humility?"
Varun leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. His voice was cold, cutting through the tension like a blade. "No. I want you to show him what it feels like to stand against an insurmountable mountain."
Her expression hardened, curiosity flickering across her face for a fraction of a second before she masked it. "You mean you want him to realize he isn't special."
"No," Varun corrected, his gaze piercing. "I want him to see what he could be—if he can handle the weight of that potential."
A faint smile tugged at Sylvie's lips, but it didn't last. She turned back to the screen where Orion's combat data streamed in real-time—his movements precise, calculated, almost perfect. Almost.
"He's arrogant," she murmured, watching as he froze mid-strike, his spear poised with textbook perfection. "But arrogance has its uses. At least he has teeth. More than I can say for most."
She stood abruptly, flexing her fingers. Her voice carried no doubt, only certainty. "Still, he's just a child. He doesn't even know what he's inherited."
"And you do?" Varun asked pointedly, his scrutiny unwavering.
"I helped build the framework he's walking through," Sylvie replied without hesitation or pride. Just fact.
She glanced at the screen one last time. The feed froze on Orion mid-strike—a perfect stance, flawless execution—but hollow in its precision.
The training dome hummed alive as Orion stepped inside, spear in hand, breath steady. He expected resistance—a drone, perhaps, or a simulated opponent designed to push him to his limits. What he didn't expect was her.