Ashes of the Elite Chapter 13: This Might Be Hell

It's day three of my training with Cain, and I think I might die.

Not from a wound, mind you. No, my body is holding up fine, well, aside from the aches and bruises. It's the sheer humiliation that might actually kill .

And apparently, just because I have the Mark of the Regenerator doesn't an I get to heal like so unstoppable monster like I originally thought. No, that would be too damn convenient. Turns out, all three of my powers need to be triggered, aning my body is currently a tapestry of soreness and bruises because I have absolutely no idea how to turn on the damn thing.

Because of course it works like that. Why wouldn't it? "Fuck my life."

I wince as I roll my shoulders, feeling every single bruise and scrape I've collected over the last few days. The dull ache in my ribs, the stiffness in my arms—yeah, Cain is exactly the type of prick I always knew him to be.

I swear under my breath, kicking the wall I was leaning against. "Stupid divine gifts with their stupid conditions."

My mind flashes back to the sha of that first "training' session, if you could even call it that. I shudder in embarrassnt.

"Alright, Ayato," Cain says, standing in the middle of the training hall with that lazy confidence of his. He's not even in a proper stance, just rolling his shoulders, like this is all a warm-up for him. "You've got all this new strength, but there's one problem: you have absolutely no idea how to use it."

I scoff. "I'm pretty sure I know how to hit sothing. I've been in street fights before; the outskirts aren't pretty, you know."

Cain raises a brow, clearly entertained. "Oh? Then by all ans, prove wrong. Run at and punch . Don't hold back."

I glance at him suspiciously. This feels like a trap. "That's it?"

"That's it," he confirms, giving a slight wave of his hand like he's inviting a dance partner forward. "Co at like you an it."

I crack my knuckles, and a slow grin stretches across my face. Fine. If this is what he wants. I shift my stance, planting my foot back, and take a deep breath before launching myself forward with everything I have, fully intending on punching that smug bastard right between his disgustingly bright blue eyes.

And I imdiately regret it.

The second my foot leaves the ground, I know I've miscalculated.

I move too fast. Not the kind of fast I'm used to, not a quick sprint through the city streets; this is sothing else entirely. The training hall distorts around as if reality itself is struggling to keep up with my motion. My muscles scream in protest, my stomach lurches, and I can taste the breakfast I had chowed down on a few hours earlier, and before I can fully process the speed, I see Cain still standing there, perfectly calm.

Then he moves.

Not quickly. Not in a rush. Just a slight sidestep, completely effortless. His foot sweeps out, eting my legs mid-motion with pinpoint precision.

I don't even have ti to react before I'm airborne.

The world flips. The ceiling, the floor, and Cain's smirking face all blur together in a sickening whirl before I crash down, slamming into the ground with enough force to rattle my bones. Pain explodes through my back, the impact knocking the air from my lungs in a humiliating wheeze.

I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, trying to decide if I want to groan in agony or just accept my fate and stay down.

Cain steps over , hands on his hips, looking down with a grin that's way too smug. "See what I an?"

I manage to glare at him through the haze of pain. "Yeah," I spit out. "I see that you're a blonde-haired bastard."

Cain chuckles, crouching down beside . "All that power, and you just turned yourself into a human projectile. If I were an enemy, I wouldn't even have to fight you; you'd take yourself out for . That's very kind, buddy."

I grit my teeth, swallowing my wounded pride. "Great lesson. Glad we're making progress."

Cain pats my shoulder like I'm so poor fool he's taken pity on. "Oh, we're just getting started; don't worry.

His voice jogs from my mory.

Cain, standing across from , adjusts his hair. "Sothing you want to share with the class, Ayato?

I glare at him, trying not to groan as my muscles protest. "Yeah. I was just reflecting on how much I love that my supposedly miraculous healing does not seem very miraculous."

Cain snorts, crossing his arms as he watches struggle just to stay standing a battle in which I lose as I slide down the wall. "Yeah, we'll get to finding out your triggers eventually, well, maybe. Honestly, this is embarrassing. We need to completely revamp how you exist; you're like a newborn duck."

"A newborn what?" I hiss.

"You know, all wobbly and stupid, flailing around with no clue how to use your own body. It's painful to watch."

"Great. Love being compared to poultry," I say deadpan. "Do all newly awakened Elites have this problem?"

Cain raises an eyebrow. "Well, no shit. Of course they do."

I sigh, rolling my shoulders again and wincing. "So I'm actually gaining an advantage by having you train ?"

Cain ets my gaze, his expression dry as the desert. "No shit."

I narrow my eyes at him. "And you have ti for this? You know you're stationed here in Lont as a precaution, right? Watching over the coast in case so enemy country decides to get cheeky and raid or launch a sneak attack here.

Cain chuckles, running a hand through his blond hair. "Oh, thank you for the reminder, Ayato. I almost forgot my own duties. Truly, what would I do without you?" He takes on a serious tone. "And yet, despite my oh-so-important responsibilities, here I am, taking ti out of my day to help your sorry ass. You should feel honored."

"Yeah, honored is exactly what I'm feeling," I mutter.

"Good," Cain says with a hint of satisfaction, then he crosses over to where I'm sitting and leans back against the sa wall, crossing his arms. "Children of current serving Elites who have already graduated from the academy or nobles will also receive training, of course. But they've been preparing for the Rite of Manifestation for years before they turn 16, sotis their whole lives in preparation of potentially bearing a mark of power. Wealth buys tutors, training, and the best resources to help prepare those children for not only their power but the academy then life past. By the ti they awaken, if they awaken, they already know what to expect, and with the increased support, control is easier.

I snort in disgust. "Fair and balanced. The Gods really love blessing the rich and already powerful, don't they?"

Cain shrugs, unbothered. "Once an Elite is chosen, that bloodline typically sees an increase in Elites in corresponding generations. Power begets power." He looks down on with amusent and continues.

"Now there is no point in worrying about that, right? So we'll be going over your new daily regi. You'll be doing exercises every single day until you stop embarrassing yourself; actually, no, you'll do them until I ship you off at the end of the year. Strength training, body control drills, endurance work, and a hell of a lot of cardio."

"Define 'a hell of a lot,'" I ask, dreading the answer.

"Long-distance runs. Every morning, 15 miles. Then you'll go into the other drills."

I groan. "I have the mark of Regenerator; shouldn't I just heal from exhaustion?"

Cain gives a condescending look. "Not unless you figure out how to actually use it. Which, judging by your current state, won't be anyti soon."

I sigh, cursing the fate that brought to this point in ti. "You know, I think I preferred being a thief in the slums."

Cain grins. "Too late for that, duckling. Get moving."