The morning sun filtered through the trees, casting a golden haze over the training ground. Prithvi, now nine, Aarav at fourteen, and Meera, nine as well, practiced together. Water, earth, and spear moved in tandem: spinning water blades struck floating targets, walls of earth rose and fell under Meera's chant, and Aarav twirled his spear with precise strikes and defensive maneuvers.
From the edge of the village, a group of older boys — thirteen and fourteen — watched. They trained with swords and spears like Aarav, but their eyes narrowed at the sight of the siblings' combined magic.
"This is ridiculous," one muttered, stepping forward. "A little magician and her brother think they can keep up with real warriors?"
Another sneered, "Yeah! Let's see how they handle a real challenge!"
Prithvi's hands twitched, ready to summon water. Meera's palms glowed faintly purple. But before they could act, Aarav stepped forward, spear poised.
"This won't be fair," he said, voice steady and commanding. "If you want a fight, it'll be skill against skill. No magic from my brother or sister. Me, only."
The older boys exchanged uneasy glances but accepted. Aarav's posture radiated confidence. He twirled his spear in ways they had never seen — blending sword techniques with spear maneuvers, inventing strikes and counters unique to him.
The fight began. Aarav moved like a storm, striking and retreating, spinning the spear to block attacks, exploiting every misstep. The older boys lunged and parried, but his speed, creativity, and instinct made every strike unpredictable.
Prithvi and Meera watched, breathless, as Aarav disarmed one boy with a flick of his wrist, ducked under a swinging sword, and spun to counterattack another. Every move showed his growth, the skill honed over years of practice, and the ingenuity of his own spear techniques.
Finally, Aarav's precision overwhelmed the older boys. They stepped back, panting, hands raised in surrender.
"Enough," Aarav said, lowering his spear. "Next time, challenge yourselves — not us. Strength alone isn't enough. Control, strategy, and intelligence matter more."
The older boys glared but slowly backed down, realizing that raw strength and experience could not match skill and innovation.
Prithvi stepped forward, eyes shining. "Aarav… you've grown so much."
Aarav smiled faintly, resting the spear on his shoulder. "I've learned to fight my own way. Not swords, not just magic, but spear — my own style. One day, I'll be ready for the Raksh-Wolf. And you two will be ready too."
Meera nodded, fists glowing faintly purple. "We'll get there together."
The three siblings regrouped, moving in harmony. Water, earth, and spear — each complementing the others. The forest seemed to hum around them, alive with anticipation, as if recognizing the rising strength of the trio.