Joe listened ily, the weight of Kayvaan’s words pressing heavily on him. He couldn’t argue with the logic.

  The lessons didhere. Kayvaan dove into the darker aspects of their training: the art of extrag information. “Fingers,” Kayvaan said matter-of-factly, holding up his hand. “They’re one of the most sensitive and fragile parts of the human body. Breaking a finger shatter a man’s will. It’s simple and effective. Now, e here and try it on me.”

  Joe didn’t hesitate. The ce to hurt his captain, even in training, felt like sweet revenge for all the beatings he’d endured. He grabbed Kayvaan’s hand and snapped a finger with a loud crack. The sound was oddly satisfying, and Joe felt a flicker of triumph—until Kayvaan punched him square in the face.

  “No, no, no!” Kayvaan barked as Joe groaned, sprawled on the ground. “You’re too quick. The enemy won’t evehe pain at that speed. You o uand: we’re not breaking fingers just to hurt someone insignifit. Behind enemy lines, we ck critical ihe goal is to break their will, make them fear you. Pain is your tool. Now, get up and try again. Slowly this time. Make me feel it.”

  Joe got ba his feet, swallowing his frustration. He grabbed Kayvaan’s hand again and applied pressure, slower this time, as instructed. “Better,” Kayvaan said, grimag slightly. “But you’re still th. Torture is an art. It requires trol and focus.”

  Kayvaan then moved on to psychological tactics. “Uanding your enemy’s culture and s be invaluable. Of course, most of the Emperor’s enemies won’t live long enough for you to apply that knowledge, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared. Learn what you about them, even if it feels like a waste of time. Knowledge is power, especially in our line of work.”

  And so, day and night, Joe trained under Kayvaan’s relentless guidance. He learo eo fight, and to adapt. With time, he mastered assassination, sabotage, interrogation, intimidation, and even demolitions. He trained iing and maintaining nearly every type of Imperial power armor, from Mark IV Maximus Armor to Terminator Armor. By the end of it all, Joe felt fident that he could rival any legendary Imperial agent—or at least, outperform any holovid hero, sidering none of them had piloted a Thunderhawk gunship.

  Joe's bat prowess also grew expoially. His steel cws moved like shadows, their cold gleam as dangerous as a predator’s fangs. He could now spar with Kayvaan on equal footing, a testament to how far he’d e. The fighting style of the Raven Guard, lethal and effit, flowed through him naturally—a blend of agility, stealth, and strength.

  The first phase of his training was plete. But deep down, Joe khis was only the beginning. From a tactical perspective, which Kayvaan valued most, Joe exceeded all expectations. Whether analyzing Imperial Tactica manuals or revisiting the battles Kayvaan had fought, Joe sistently offered fresh insights—ideas Kayvaan himself had never sidered. What’s more, he could articute his thoughts clearly and logically.

  “I’ve got to say, you’ve done well during this period,” Kayvaan admitted, nodding in approval.

  “This is all thanks to your excellent teag, Captain,” Joe replied modestly. “So, what’s ?”

  “Well, I don’t know,” Kayvaan admitted with a sigh. The one enemy he couldn’t seem to defeat was back again—boredom.

  “Why don’t we start over?” Kayvaan suggested.

  “Start over?” Joe looked puzzled.

  “I said, let’s start over. I’ll teach, and you’ll learn,” Kayvaan crified. “Of course, we’ll skip the basics this time. We’ll focus entirely on bat. You’re still g in that area. If you want to i my name and this body, you’ll need more than just strategy and clever ideas. Strength matters too. After all, I am Kayvaan Shrike.”

  Joe frowned slightly. “But I’ve already mao hold my ground in our spars, haven’t I?”

  “Hold yround? Against me?” Kayvaan scoffed. “You’ve got some nerve, kid. Do you really think you stand toe-to-toe with a Space Marine Captain? Don’t uimate me. I’m a warrior fed in the Emperor’s light, a servant of the Raven Guard, a battle-tested leader who’s crushed enemies across tless war zohe only reason you’ve done so well against me is because I’ve been holding back.”

  As he spoke, Kayvaan seemed to grow taller in Joe's eyes—his presenanding, his tone more serious. T at over three meters tall in his full armor, Kayvaan’s physique was monstrous yet majestic. “In our training sessions, I’ve been limiting myself, matg your height and strength so the fights would be somewhat fair,” Kayvaan tinued. “But now, in this sed round of lessons, I’ll be using my inal strength and form.”

  Joe sighed, feeling a mix of helplessness and frustration. “Lord Shrike, are y to teach me, or are you just bored and taking it out on me?”

  “At times like this, men shouldn’t settle things with words,” Kayvaan said, crag his knuckles. “Let the battle speak for itself.”

  And so, the sed round of lessons began. The instant the fight started, Joe felt like he’d regressed to that clueless boy from Terra who knew nothing about bat. Under Kayvaan’s crushing attacks, he was reduced to a beginner, barely able to hold his ground for even a moment. Eater ended with him utterly defeated—smmed into walls, thrown to the ground, or torn apart in some other humiliating fashion.

  But Kayvaan wasn’t just fog on bat this time. He’d also decided to involve himself in Joe's cultural education. At first, Kayvaan had been indifferent to Joe's studies, letting him roam the vast library to read whatever he fahat hands-off approach was now over. Kayvaan, seemingly struck with the joy of being a cultural guide, took it upon himself to start actively teag Joe.

  First on the list was nguage. Thankfully, most of the Imperium used Low Gothic, a on nguage desded from aerran tongues. Its pronunciation and versational tone made it retively straightforward for Joe to pick up. Retively.

  For Joe, however, nguage learning was a nightmare. Ba Terra, English csses in school had been his worst subjeow, in this strange new gaxy, he was forced to start ain. Still, pints didn’t ge the reality—he had to learn.

  After Low Gothic came High Gothic—a rigid, aristocratigue used for formal and religious purposes. It was plex and exhausting, pushing Joe’s limits even further. By the time he’d made some progress with the nguages, his bat training was still abysmally one-sided. Fag Kayvaan in his true form was like trying to fight a mountain. No matter how much effort Joe put in, he was always pletely overpowered.

  “I don’t get it,” Joe finally said after being “killed” for what felt like the huh time. “I’ve tried everything I think of, but there’s just no way to beat you. Your strength, speed, aions are all leagues above mine. All the teiques you’ve taught me are about risking everything to take down the enemy before they take you down. How am I supposed to win like this?”