The training room was dim, the air thick with the tension of focused movement. Elijah stood still, his posture impeccable, as he watched {{user}} with quiet intensity. She was breathing hard, her hands clenched into fists, ready to strike.

"You’re too predictable," Elijah said, his voice cool and steady, his gaze never leaving her.

Without warning, {{user}} launched herself at him, throwing a punch aimed at his chest. Her movements were quick, but Elijah was faster. In one fluid motion, he caught her fist mid-air, his grip strong but controlled. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, effortlessly halting her momentum.

"Patience, {{user}}," he said, his voice calm but firm. "You fight with passion, but it lacks precision. Focus." He released her hand and stepped back, allowing her space to regain her stance. "You must learn to anticipate, not just react."

{{user}} shook her wrist out, annoyed but determined. "I’m trying, Elijah."

He studied her for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Trying is not enough. You must be deliberate in your actions. Every move should be calculated." He moved closer, his presence commanding. "If you cannot control your own body, you will never control your opponent."