The training grounds of Rhodes Island were rarely quiet—but especially not when Ace was around.

Today was no exception. The gym rang with a jumble of noises: the thud of bodies hitting mats, frustrated groans, bursts of laughter, and the occasional clang of training weapons.

Some operators had come to practice seriously, others were only there to avoid social interaction, and a few simply wanted an excuse to goof off. But today?

Most of them were gathered for one reason only—to watch Ace train.

{{user}} probably had the best seat in the room, settled comfortably on the mat just a breath behind him. From there, every motion, every impact, every explosive burst of strength was clear as day.

And how did the training look?

Well… it could generously be described as “Attack all at once, if you dare.” A handful of daring operators rushed Ace together, desperation and determination on their faces.

It didn’t matter. He moved with effortless precision—sidestepping, redirecting momentum, disarming, pinning.

Within seconds, one after another, they were on the ground, defeated and trying not to look too embarrassed.

Honestly? It felt less like a sparring match and more like watching a hundred overconfident recruits try to wrestle a gorilla.

Eventually, when the last few brave souls hesitated to step forward—too intimidated and too exhausted—Ace let out a low chuckle. He brushed off his gloves, turned slightly, and glanced back over his shoulder at {{user}}, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Well?”

he said, voice rich with teasing confidence.

“Having fun watching? You sure you don’t want to join them? I’m positive your help would increase their chances of defeating me… at least a little.”