The blow to his forehead still stinging, Gilbert rose standing across from General Beckett, staff ready. Their earlier exchange had not been the end but merely a prologue to a rigorous trial meant to forge him into a true Asura. They fought for several more rounds each ending the same way, with the red mark at the center of his forehead growing brighter. After the last time when he could not get back up the General gave him time to relax when he got back his eyes were now steely and imposing retaking his stance he held both staffs one wooden, one metal in parallel,
"Gilbert," he intoned, "ambidexterity is not merely the ability to hold something in both hands. It is an art, of balance, allowing each hand to function not only independently, but in perfect concert with the other. Most people use their hands even when holding two separate items the weaker hand guides while the more dominant leads, with us it doesn't matter which hand is the lead hand or the guiding hand you reverse it as you please. Watch closely." With that, the General executed a series of flowing maneuvers. He rotated the wooden staff in his left hand, while his right delivered a precise thrust with the metal staff. The choreography was smooth, balletic at times, and steady in others. A synthesis of power and finesse as both weapons moved in unison or separately to deflect and counter imaginary attacks. He repeated his demonstration a few times before he signaled for Gilbert to try.
Gilbert squared his squared his shoulders, then mimicked what he saw. At first, his movements were awkward, his left hand hesitating while his right confidently swung the metal staff. The General's voice broke through the strained silence. "Do not overpower one hand at the expense of the other. Your left must be as decisive as your right. Remember, your body and mind must treat them evenly, only focus on one when it is convenient not instinctively."
The beat of the training them shifted into a rhythm of practice and correction. Gilbert began slowly at first, placing deliberate focus on mirroring the General's balanced movements. He would step forward, rotating his wooden staff with his left hand to deflect an incoming imaginary blow, then follow with a counterattack using the metal staff from his right. Still, at times his timing was off. Each missed step, clumsy pivot resulted in a bruise from the General's staff. After each set he would reverse which hands the metallic and wooden staffs were in.
"Faster!" the General barked as he launched another series of simulated attacks. "Stop overthinking and start taking action! I thought you claimed to be capable of using both hands. Where's all that confidence you had earlier? Remember, a man's worth is proven not by his words but by the effort he puts forth in life."
With each repetition, Gilbert's strikes grew more fluid. He began coordinating his breath with his movements. His left hand, which initially felt like an afterthought, slowly found its footing. The staff in that hand started to move on its own accord, a natural extension of his arm rather than a clumsy appendage. He felt the burn of his muscles as the training stretched both his physical limits and his capacity for concentration. Each parry and thrust became less about mimicry and more about instinctive harmony.
At one point, after a series of synchronized series of blocks and ripostes, the General paused, nodding in approval. "That is it, Gilbert. You are finally not a disappointment of an Asura."
The session advanced into a series of dual drills where Gilbert was forced to adapt his stance, swing, and block simultaneously. At times, the General would switch the order, the right hand initiating a move, the left following emphasizing coordination, or times brute strength. Gilbert's body strained with adaption, recalculating muscle memory with every breath.
By the end of the grueling training session, the marks of injury were evident, bruises on his arms, reddening along his knuckles, and his third eye on his forehead. Although not yet perfect, his movements had started to transform from hesitant attempts to deliberate, coordinated attacks. What was once a vague idea had started to manifest beyond the limits of his innate preferences.
General Beckett finally ended the session at five in the morning. "Very good," he said, voice curt. "Every inch of progress counts on the battlefield. I will be seeing you again tomorrow." With those words, he gathered the gear and left the field.
In Doctor Wolmer's office, Alexander Gallifrey stood staring at a holographic display of the arduous clash between Squads 3 and 9 versus the towering Tier III Styx. The guttural roars of the creature and the dance of survival of the squires played out before his eyes. Amid the flickering of the holographic image, Alexander's hands clenched into fists, and a sheen of sweat trickled down his brow as he absorbed the unfolding carnage.
"This is the person you want to beat? He may be a peasant but even they may shine through once in a while," said Doctor Wolmer slowly tapping his desk as he scrolled through data on a terminal. Tearing his eyes away from the display Alexander replied
"I refuse to believe that I couldn't do the same given the circumstances." pride lacing his tone as his gaze was fixed on Doctor Wolmer "Why are you showing me this? What is it about this peasant that caught your interest?"
"Who says that I have an interest in him?" Doctor Wolmer replied staring at him with a smile "Perhaps I am interested in you my dear Alexander."
"I am not one of the idiots that you trick," Alexander snapped turning off the video. "There is something about this peasant which fascinates you, but I am guessing you can't touch him. Hence you need me,"
With a smile playing at his lips he muttered "You're not far off," Wolmer conceded. "There is, indeed, a quality about him that I wish to study. For that, I will need your help."
Alexander folded his arms, and narrowed his eyes he regarded Doctor Wolmer with a blend of interest
"What makes you think I'd be compelled to help you?" he queried sharply
"Because I have something that any Knight would desire," said Doctor Wolmer giving a slight pause with a low deliberate voice he said "A dread marine weapon."
For a long, suspended moment the two of them stared at each other, the ambient glow of the holographic images detailing the sharp lines of their faces.
Alexander's eyes narrowed into icy slits, his tone biting with contempt as he met Doctor Wolmer's expectant gaze.
"I don't take kindly to being used as a pawn, Doctor Wolmer," he declared, his voice steady and hard. "You want me to play your game for a weapon that I won't be capable of using even years from now—or probably ever. A dread weapon, if I were a Grand Knight, then yes, such a weapon might be tempting, an enticing addition to my combat prowess. But as I am now, I wouldn't last milliseconds wielding such a weapon."
A tense silence fell between them as the words echoed in the dim light of the office. Doctor Wolmer's smile did not falter for a moment as he leaned back slightly, his fingers drumming on the desk in a measured cadence. "Your confidence does you credit, Alexander," he finally replied, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and challenge. "But consider this why would I offer such a weapon knowing you cannot use it? This weapon is installed with cells created from circuit gems meaning with just a small input of energy anybody can use it including you."
Alexander's clenched, his pride warring against his ambition. He took a deep breath before responding, "I remain unconvinced, a weapon such as that is all in the control of the Federation. Only knights and marines who serve one of the three magistrates offices are given those weapons." Doctor Wolmer scrolled through his terminal pulling up his file showing only the first three lines
Name: Birsha Wolmer
Rank: Captain
Affiliation: Second Magistrates Office
"As you can see I am affiliated with the magistrate's office, so it is not difficult for me to achieve what I promised you." Wolmer said bringing down his file "So are you in Squire? I can even arrange for you to join the magistrates office after serving your time as a Knight in the Dragon Legion."
"I will help you with the peasant but you can take your mind off transferring me to work for the government," Alexander replied rolling his eyes at the idea of leaving the army. "What is it that you need me to do?"
Finally turning his attention away from the terminal Doctor Wolmer pulled up the schematics of a power armor on display. The blueprints were detailed and precise, every contour and circuit etched. But one element stood out highlighting in the chest plate of the armor the command unit.
"What I need you to do is simple," Doctor Wolmer began his tone even. "Before you guys are given your bone lacing, you will go through a final squad battle. At that time all, you must do is injure Gilbert Kruger specifically, the target. More precisely, focus on his circuit gem," His words cause silence as the true nature of his plan is exposed.
"I can understand wanting to injure him but why his circuit gem specifically?" Alexander asked in a curious tone
"Almost everything, from a physical injury to armor damage, is usually managed by a squad's mechanic or medic. If a soldier sustains an injury, they're expected to try and handle it themselves; if they find themselves insufficient, they can request assistance from a more experienced mechanic or medic. For instance, if someone were to have their hand sliced into several pieces during battle, Doctor Eden would be designated to tend to that injury. However, there's one component of the armor that doesn't follow such protocol, the circuit gem. This particular piece falls under the Federation's purview, and our team is the only one authorized to repair or analyze it. That means when a circuit gem is damaged, it won't be sent off to a senior medic or mechanic for communal inspection. Instead, the task and the accompanying opportunity fall squarely in my hands. In short, while most injuries and armor damage are routine matters the army's circuit gem offers a unique window through which I can observe and intervene up close under the guise of routine repair. And that Alexander, is precisely why I need you to hit Gilbert in that specific spot." Doctor Wolmer enlightened