NOVEL WEB Chapter 9: Too Strong
Joe listened intently, the weight of Kayvan's words pressing heavily on him. He couldn't argue with the logic.
The lessons didn't end there. Kayvan dove into the darker aspects of their training: the art of extracting information. "Fingers," Kayvan 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 can shatter a man's will. It's simple and effective. Now, come here and try it on me."
Joe didn't hesitate. The chance to hurt his captain, even in training, felt like sweet revenge for all the beatings he'd endured. He grabbed Kayvan's hand and snapped a finger with a loud crack. The sound was oddly satisfying, and Joe felt a flicker of triumph—until Kayvan punched him square in the face.
"No, no, no!" Kayvan barked as Joe groaned, sprawled on the ground. "You're too quick. The enemy won't even feel the pain at that speed. You need to understand: we're not breaking fingers just to hurt someone insignificant. Behind enemy lines, we lack critical intel. The 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 back on his feet, swallowing his frustration. He grabbed Kayvan's hand again and applied pressure, slower this time, as instructed. "Better," Kayvan said, grimacing slightly. "But you're still too rough. Torture is an art. It requires finesse."
Kayvan then moved on to psychological tactics. "Understanding your enemy's culture and customs can 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 can 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 Kayvan's relentless guidance. He learned to endure, to fight, and to adapt. With time, he mastered assassination, sabotage, poisoning, torture, intimidation, and even explosives. He trained in operating and repairing every type of Imperial power armor, from Thunder Armor to Terminator Armor. By the end of it all, Joe felt confident that he could rival any legendary spy—or at least, outperform 007, especially since 007 couldn't fly a space shuttle.
Joe's combat prowess also grew exponentially. His steel claws moved like shadows, their cold gleam as dangerous as a predator's fangs. He could now spar with Kayvan on equal footing, a testament to how far he'd come. The style of "Raven" flowed through him effortlessly, a lethal blend of speed, precision, and brutality.
The first phase of his training was complete. But deep down, Joe knew this was only the beginning. From a tactical perspective, which Kayvan valued most, Joe exceeded all expectations. Whether it was analyzing military chess scenarios or revisiting the battles Kayvan had fought, Joe always managed to come up with fresh ideas—ones Kayvan himself had never considered. What's more, he could explain his thoughts clearly and logically.
"I've got to say, you've done well during this period," Kayvan admitted, nodding in approval.
"This is all thanks to your excellent teaching, Capatain," Joe replied modestly. "So, what's next?"
"Well, I don't know," Kayvan admitted with a sigh. The one enemy he couldn't seem to defeat was back again—boredom.
"Why don't we start over?" Kayvan suggested.
"Start over?" Joe looked puzzled.
"I said, let's start over. I'll teach, and you'll learn," Kayvan clarified. "Of course, we'll skip the basic, messy stuff. This time, we'll focus entirely on combat. You're still lacking in that area. If you want to inherit my name and this body, you'll need more than just strategy and clever ideas. Power matters too. After all, I am Kayvan Shrike."
Joe frowned slightly. "But I've already managed to hold my ground in our spars, haven't I?"
"Hold your ground? Against me?" Kayvan scoffed. "You've got some nerve, kid. Do you really think you can stand toe-to-toe with someone who's chapter leader-level among the Space Marines? Don't underestimate me. I'm an Emperor's Knight, a warrior who's conquered countless battlefields across the stars. The only reason you've done so well against me is because I've been holding back."
As he spoke, Kayvan seemed to grow taller in Joe's eyes—his presence commanding, his tone more serious. It reminded Joe of the first time he met his so-called cheap tutor. Towering at over three meters tall, Kayvan's physique was more monstrous than human. "In our training sessions, I've been limiting myself, matching your height and strength so the fights would be somewhat fair," Kayvan continued. "But now, in this second round of lessons, I'll be using my original strength and form."
Joe sighed, feeling a mix of helplessness and frustration. "Lord Shrike, are you trying 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," Kayvan said, cracking his knuckles. "Let the battle speak for itself."
And so, the second round of lessons began. The instant the fight started, Joe felt like he'd regressed to that clueless boy from Earth who knew nothing about combat. Under Kayvan's crushing attacks, he was reduced to a beginner, barely able to hold his ground for even a moment. Each encounter ended with him utterly defeated—torn apart, thrown to the ground, or obliterated in some other humiliating way.
But Kayvan wasn't just focusing on combat this time. He'd also decided to involve himself in Joe's cultural education. At first, Kayvan had been indifferent to Joe's studies, letting him roam the vast library to read whatever he fancied. That harsh training approach was now over. Kayvan, seemingly struck with the joy of being a cultural guide, took it upon himself to start actively teaching Joe.
First on the list was language. Thankfully, 99% of the planets in the Empire used Low Gothic—a common language that sounded like a mix of French and English. Its beautiful pronunciation and conversational tone made it relatively easy for most people to learn. Relatively.
For Joe. language learning was a nightmare. Back on Earth, English classes from junior high through college had been the bane of his existence, costing him more hair than he cared to admit. Now, in this strange new world, he was forced to start all over again with another foreign language. Still, complaints didn't change the reality—he had to learn.
After Low Gothic came High Gothic—a more rigid, aristocratic language used for official purposes. It was complex and exhausting, pushing Joe's limits even further. By the time he'd made some progress with the languages, his combat training was still abysmally one-sided. Facing Kayvan in his true form was like trying to fight a mountain. No matter how much effort Joe put in, he was always completely overpowered.
"I don't get it," Joe finally said after being "killed" for what felt like the hundredth time. "I've tried everything I can think of, but there's just no way to beat you. Your strength, speed, and reactions are all leagues above mine. All the techniques 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?"