Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby novel Chapter 286

Chapter 286: Back to Basic

Annabeth Case continued to play Eleanor’s matches, explaining her shortcomings and how she could improve. When it came to the match between Eleanor and Barrock Deepdelver Ironhide, she paused for a moment. She played the whole video to the end, where Eleanor’s broken body lay amidst the rubble, and she surrendered.

"You lost," she said, her voice flat and devoid of its usual cutting edge. "Not to a superior fighter, but to your own arrogance."

She rewound the footage to the very beginning... to the moment Eleanor charged in, hands already crackling with lightning. "Your initial assessment was correct. You were at a disadvantage. Your solution was the same as always: overwhelming speed and power. You learned nothing from our previous training session. You treated this stone dragon not as a unique problem, but as a stronger version of your previous opponents."

Annabeth paused the video on the first exchange, where Eleanor’s jab whistled past Barrock’s head. "You tested his reactions with a strike aimed at his throat... a killing blow. In a tournament, it’s a permissible move. But what did it gain you? It told you he was confident and possessed excellent perception. You already knew that. It was a wasted movement that committed you to a close-range exchange against a stronger opponent. Your first move should have been to understand the environment... to use the space, to force him to move." 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

She let the video play, through the flurry of Bolt Steps and Voltaic Strikes. "Look at this. A spectacle of wasted energy. You decided to go all out. Why? Because you were frustrated? Because he was a fortress and your pride demanded you break down the walls? Every spark of lightning he dissipated, every hammer swing you evaded, was energy you would desperately need later. You were in a battle of attrition against a draconic bloodline with vastly greater stamina, and you chose to engage him on those terms."

Annabeth paused the video where Barrock seized her wrist. "This was your first and most critical tactical error. You saw an opening and took the bait. Against a fighter of his calibre, there are no unforced openings... only traps. You allowed him to close the distance and inflict the first major injury. This reaction is truly disappointing from a Mind Reaver bloodline."

She continued to play the video. "And then, you compounded every error. You broke your own restrictions. You used Mental Lock. You used Overdrive. You fought through the pain with sheer, brute-force will. And for a moment, it seemed to have worked. You were chipping away at him. You were winning the war of attrition you should never have started. But that was also draining you... and your opponent knew it. Look at his face. He was calm, composed, and in control of the fight."

She paused on the image of Eleanor’s eyes, the Eye of Wisdom staring out at Barrock. "You broke your Mental Lock at the most critical moment of the fight, and abandoned the perfect focus that had allowed you to keep your advantage. You chose to intimidate. That was a grave mistake."

She continued, "It was a possibility that could push him beyond technique and into pure retaliation. But you orchestrated your own defeat. You were inside his guard. His will was wavering. Your attack was closing on his heart. If you had maintained Mental Lock... if you had simply executed the strikes without that theatrical flourish, you would be the one standing victorious right now."

"Power is not the answer to every problem. Remember that in your bones. Power without discipline is noise. Power without control is a liability," she said, as the video ended.

After reviewing all of Eleanor’s competition footage, Annabeth turned towards her. "The arena is a false stage," she began. "It has rules, referees, and surrender. The real world offers no such luxuries. In a real fight, you would be dead if you lost. No surrender, no recovery... just death. Your survival will always be on the line, no matter how well you fought or how beautifully you used your abilities."

She paused, then added, "Your power is a gift, but you treat it like a crutch. When you face a problem, your first instinct is to channel more lightning, to push yourself into Overdrive, to rely on the Mental Lock to do the thinking for you. This tournament exposed the fatal flaw in that approach... what happens when you meet a wall your lightning cannot crack? You break your fist against it."

"Starting today," Annabeth declared, "we are rebuilding your combat paradigm from the ground up. You will learn to fight as if you have no powers beyond your body. You will learn to win with the body and mind you were born with."

She held up a single finger. "First, your mind. You possess the Mind Reaver bloodline, yet you fought like a common thug. Mind Acceleration is not just for slowing the world to react. It is for processing information... the grain of the floor, the shift of your opponent’s weight, the pattern of their breathing, the flicker in their eyes before they commit to a strike. You see these things, but you do not analyse them. You use the data to dodge, not to predict, control and manipulate. In the next training session you will use your mind power until exhaustion."

A second finger joined the first. "Second, your body. Your technique is adequate against lesser opponents, but it is built on the expectation that your enhanced speed and strength will bail you out. No more."

She produced four bands. "You will wear these from now on... ankles and wrists. Each of them weighs one kilogram. For the remaining days at the academy you will not remove them, except temporarily when facing a particularly dangerous opponent. They will also suppress your elemental abilities. You will relearn footwork, balance and leverage."

After some discussion about how Eleanor could improve her fighting prowess in a short time, Annabeth led her to the coliseum where their previous training session had been held.

When Eleanor had grasped the rhythm of free-hand movement, Annabeth shifted the lesson to environmental use. First, Eleanor had to work with the sand and stone of the coliseum floor, learning to turn footing into an ally rather than an obstacle. Then they moved to the boundaries. Annabeth had her run toward the wall, plant a foot high against the stone, and use the rebound to change direction at an impossible angle.

After a couple of hours, sweat streamed down Eleanor’s face, and her muscles trembled with a new kind of fatigue.

"The Feint," Annabeth said. "The war is won before the first blow lands. It is won here." She tapped her temple, then pointed at Eleanor’s eyes. "Your eyes are a weapon. Learn to lie with them."

They stood a few feet apart. "I will thrust a jab at your face. Get ready to block."

Annabeth’s shoulders twitched, her eyes flicking toward Eleanor’s forehead. Eleanor’s hands came up... but Annabeth’s fist never left its guard. It had been a complete feint.

"You opened your entire defence to a story I told you," Annabeth said. "Your torso is now exposed."

They practised for an hour on this alone... feinting with the eyes, with a slight drop of the shoulder, with an intake of breath. Eleanor learned to project intent toward one target while preparing to strike another. She learned to watch not just Annabeth’s hands, but the subtle tension in her feet, the distribution of her weight, the micro-expressions that betrayed true action from deception.

After more than five hours of training, Annabeth returned to the castle with an utterly exhausted Eleanor. After freshening up, Eleanor collapsed into a deep sleep in the guest room of the castle.