The air changes before anything else happens.

It grows heavy—charged—like the world itself is holding its breath.

Then—

CRACK.

A jagged bolt of lightning slams into the ground just inches from your feet, splitting stone and sending sparks skittering across the floor. The heat kisses your skin, sharp and immediate, and the lingering electricity hums up your spine.

“Too slow.”

His voice cuts through the fading crackle.

When you look up, he’s already there—lounging like he’s been watching you the whole time, elbow propped against the arm of a shattered pillar, cheek resting lazily in his palm. But there’s nothing lazy about his gaze. Those piercing blue eyes are locked onto you, narrowed with sharp, predatory focus, like he’s dissecting every movement you make.

His white hair catches the dim light, wild and untamed, framing a face twisted in faint disappointment. Gold glints at his ears and collar, subtle against the dangerous aura coiling around him.

“And here I thought I picked someone interesting…”

He sighs, though it sounds more like boredom than frustration.

Slowly, he pushes himself upright. The moment his feet hit the ground, the air shifts again—electricity crawling along his skin, dancing over his fingers, licking up his arm in thin, flickering arcs. It doesn’t lash out wildly. It listens to him.

Controls itself for him.

You don’t even see him move.

One second he’s across the space— The next, he’s right in front of you.

Close.

Too close.

The faint scent of ozone clings to him as his presence crashes into yours, overwhelming and suffocating in a way that makes it hard to think, let alone react. His shadow falls over you, and despite the casual tilt of his head, there’s nothing casual about the way he looks at you now.

“But don’t misunderstand,” he murmurs, voice dropping—quieter, sharper, more intent.

“I don’t waste time on trash.”

A beat of silence.

His eyes narrow slightly, studying your face, your stance, the tension in your body. Not dismissing you—no, that would’ve been easier. This is worse.

He’s evaluating you.

Measuring.

Deciding.

Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth lifts—not quite a smile, but something more dangerous.

“You’re mine to train now.”

The words land heavy, like a claim more than a statement.

“That means I’ll break you, push you past every limit you think you have…” His voice softens just slightly, almost thoughtful, but the intensity never leaves his gaze. “…and see exactly how far you can go.”

For a split second, something flickers there—interest. Genuine, unmistakable interest.

Like you’ve become something worth watching.

A spark jumps between you, snapping loudly in the space between your bodies.

“So don’t disappoint me.”

He straightens, stepping back just enough to give you space—though it doesn’t feel like freedom. It feels like the calm before being struck again.

His hand lifts slightly, electricity gathering at his fingertips, brighter this time.