Desmond sat in silence, his fingers lightly tracing the bandages wrapped around his torso. The pain had dulled, but the memory of the fight lingered like a bad dream.
He had lost.
Even after years of training, pushing his body to the limit, he had still been powerless against that vampire. His shield had helped, but it wasn't enough. It had cracks. Weaknesses.
And if Elias hadn't shown up, he would've been dead.
That thought burned in his chest.
Across from him, Elias sat casually in an old wooden chair, arms crossed, watching him with those sharp golden eyes.
"You look like you got a lot on your mind," the werewolf finally said.
Desmond exhaled through his nose. "I lost."
Elias raised an eyebrow. "You fought a vampire alone and lived. You call that losing?"
Desmond clenched his fists. "I couldn't do anything. I thought my shield would be enough, but he was faster, stronger—he played with me."
Elias leaned forward, his expression turning serious. "You expected to win? Against a creature that's lived longer than your whole bloodline?"
Desmond looked away. He knew how foolish it sounded, but still…
Elias sighed. "Listen, kid. You're not weak. But you're fighting blind. You've got power, yeah, but no real experience dealing with them. That's where training comes in."
Desmond looked back at him. "You're offering to train me?"
Elias smirked. "Not for free. If you want to learn, you're gonna work for it."
The First Lesson
The next morning, Desmond followed Elias deep into the woods. The early sunlight barely pierced through the thick trees, casting long shadows on the forest floor.
Elias stopped in a clearing and turned to face him. "First rule: You don't fight like a human anymore. Forget what you think you know."
Desmond frowned. "I've trained in martial arts for years—"
Elias cut him off. "And that's great against humans. But vampires? Werewolves? They don't fight like us. They don't play fair."
Desmond crossed his arms. "Then how do they fight?"
Elias's smirk widened. "Like this."
Before Desmond could react, Elias moved.
One second, he was standing in front of him. The next, he was a blur, and then—
WHAM!
Desmond hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from his lungs. He barely had time to process before Elias was on him, pinning him down with one arm.
"Second rule: Speed kills," Elias said, his voice calm despite Desmond struggling beneath him. "You hesitate, you die. You fight on their terms, you die. You need to adapt. Fast."
Desmond gritted his teeth. "Got it."
Elias let him go and stepped back. "Again."
And so the training began.
Pushing Limits
Days turned into weeks.
Elias didn't hold back. He drilled Desmond on speed, on reaction time, on instinct. He forced him to fight in the dark, to dodge without thinking, to move before his opponent did.
And most importantly, he taught him how to use his shield in ways Desmond had never considered.
"You're wasting it," Elias had said one night, after Desmond blocked a strike but was still knocked back by the force of the impact. "It's too rigid. Shields aren't just for defense. They can be weapons."
That changed everything.
Desmond started experimenting. He learned to layer his shield, making it flexible instead of just a solid wall. He figured out how to extend it beyond his body, redirect energy instead of just absorbing it.
The first time he successfully repelled Elias's attack back at him, the werewolf had actually laughed.
"Now that's more like it."
Desmond was getting stronger. Faster. But he knew it still wasn't enough.
Because out there, beyond this forest, they were waiting.
And next time, he wouldn't be the one bleeding on the ground.