The Chosen Pervert

Chapter 11: Training Partners

The training field was quiet except for the sound of steel on steel and the occasional grunt of exertion.

I was twelve years old now—just a few weeks shy of my thirteenth birthday, the milestone that would mark my transition into adolescence and, more importantly, my eligibility to attend the Arcane Academy.

Not that I'm going, I thought. Not until I know Rue can come with me.

But that was a conversation for another day.

Today, I had a different problem.

Rue was kicking my ass.

"Again!" Kira's voice cut through the air like a whip. "Faster, Rue. He's leaving himself open on the left."

Rue didn't need to be told twice.

She moved like liquid shadow, her body twisting and flowing around my clumsy attempts at defense. Her dual daggers flashed in the sunlight, and I barely managed to deflect one strike before the other came at me from an impossible angle.

I stumbled backward, raising my hand and casting a quick barrier spell—just enough to deflect her strike.

Fuck, she's fast.

"Wyatt!" Aldric's voice was sharp. "Stop thinking. React. Your body knows what to do—trust it."

Easy for you to say, I thought, gritting my teeth.

Rue came at me again, and this time I cast a simple wind spell to push her back—nothing serious, just enough to create distance. Her foot swept toward my legs, but I jumped back, using a light levitation spell to give myself extra height.

Aldric walked over, his expression thoughtful. "Rue, take a break. Wyatt, on your feet."

Rue stepped back, sheathing her daggers. She didn't look tired—not even winded. Meanwhile, I felt like I'd been hit by a truck.

She's gotten so strong, I thought, watching her walk over to the water barrel. So much stronger than me.

And it was true.

Rue had always been faster, more agile, more lethal. But over the years, Kira had honed those natural gifts into something terrifying. Rue moved like a predator now—silent, precise, deadly. Her strikes were calculated, her footwork flawless. She could take down opponents twice her size without breaking a sweat.

And me?

I was a mage.

A phenomenal mage, according to Aldric. God-Rank potential, he'd said. I could cast spells that would level buildings, summon storms, bend reality itself to my will.

But right now, in this training field, using only basic defensive spells and casual magic?

I was getting my ass handed to me by a ten-year-old girl.

Not just any girl, I reminded myself. Rue.

Aldric crouched beside me, his expression serious. "You're holding back."

I blinked. "What?"

"You're holding back," he repeated. "I can see it. You're not giving this fight everything you have."

"I'm trying—"

"No, you're not." His eyes narrowed. "You're using basic spells. Barriers. Wind gusts. Light levitation. Where's your real power, Wyatt? Where are the spells that could end this fight in seconds?"

My stomach dropped.

Shit.

"I'm not—"

"Don't lie to me, Wyatt." Aldric's voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. "I've been training you for seven years. I know what you're capable of. And right now? You're treating this like a game. Like she's not worth your full strength."

I looked away, my jaw tightening.

Fuck.

He was right.

I was holding back.

I could have used real magic—devastating spells, powerful attacks, the kind of magic that would force Rue to fight at her absolute best. But I didn't.

Because... because I thought I was being nice.

In my old life, back on Earth, guys went easy on girls. You didn't go all-out against a girl in a game or a competition because it made you look like an asshole. You held back, you made them feel good, and everyone was happy.

That's how it worked, right?

But as I looked up at Aldric's disappointed expression, I realized something.

This isn't Earth.

And Rue wasn't some girl I was trying to impress at a college party.

She was a warrior.

A beast-folk warrior.

And I'd just insulted her.

The rest of the training session was... tense.

Aldric made me spar with him instead, and he didn't hold back. Every mistake I made, he punished. Every opening I left, he exploited. By the time he called the session to an end, I was bruised, exhausted, and thoroughly humiliated.

But it was Rue's reaction that hurt the most.

She wouldn't look at me.

When I tried to approach her after training, she turned away, her ears pinned back against her head.

"Rue—"

"I'm busy," she said curtly, her voice cold.

Kira was standing nearby, watching us with an unreadable expression. She leaned down and whispered something in Rue's ear.

Rue's eyes widened slightly, and then her expression hardened.

She glared at me—really glared at me, with a fury I'd never seen before—and then she turned and walked away.

I stood there, frozen, my chest tight.

What the hell just happened?

The rest of the day was torture.

Rue ignored me completely.

She wouldn't talk to me. Wouldn't look at me. Wouldn't even acknowledge my presence.

At lunch, she sat on the opposite side of the table, her back to me.

During afternoon training, she threw herself into her exercises with a ferocity that bordered on reckless. Kira had to physically stop her from overexerting herself.

And every time I tried to approach her, she walked away.

By the time evening rolled around, I felt like I was going to lose my mind.

What did I do wrong?

I thought I was being nice. I thought I was being respectful.

But clearly, I'd f****d up.

Big time.

I found my father in the study, pouring over some documents.

He looked up when I entered, his expression softening. "Wyatt. What's wrong?"

I hesitated, then closed the door behind me. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." He set the documents aside and gestured for me to sit.

I sank into the chair across from him, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. "It's about Rue."

His eyebrows rose. "Ah. I heard about the training session."

Of course he did.

"She's mad at me," I said quietly. "And I don't understand why."

My father leaned back in his chair, studying me. "What happened?"

"We were sparring," I said. "And... I held back. I only used basic spells. Nothing serious."

"You held back," he repeated slowly.

"Yeah." I rubbed the back of my neck. "I mean, I could have used real magic. I could have pushed her harder. But I didn't want to... I don't know. I didn't want to hurt her or make her feel bad."

My father was quiet for a long moment.

Then he sighed.

"Wyatt," he said gently. "Do you know what you did?"

I shook my head.

"You insulted her."

I blinked. "What?"

"You insulted her," he repeated. "By holding back your power, you told her—without words—that you think she's weak. That she's not capable. That she's not strong enough to face your real strength."

My stomach dropped.

"I didn't—"

"I know you didn't mean it that way," my father said, holding up a hand. "But that's how she took it. And that's how Kira took it. And that's how Aldric took it."

I stared at him, my mind racing.

Fuck.

"Rue is a beast-folk," my father continued. "And more than that, she's a warrior. Her entire purpose—her entire identity—is built around being strong. Around protecting you. Around proving that she's capable of standing beside you at your full power."

He leaned forward, his expression serious. "When you held back, you undermined all of that. You told her that her training doesn't matter. That her strength doesn't matter. That she's not worthy of facing the real you."

I felt like I'd been punched in the gut.

"I didn't mean—"

"I know," my father said again. "But intent doesn't matter, Wyatt. What matters is the message you sent."

He paused, then added, "How is she supposed to get stronger if you don't challenge her with everything you have? How is she supposed to improve if you treat her like she's fragile? It's her job to protect you. She needs to be strong enough to stand beside you when you're at your most powerful. She needs to earn that strength by facing your full power."

I swallowed hard, my throat tight.

Fuck.

I'm such an i***t.

My father's expression softened. "You were trying to be kind. I understand that. But kindness without respect is just pity. And Rue doesn't want your pity, Wyatt. She wants your respect. She wants you to fight her with everything you have."

I nodded slowly, my chest aching.

I f****d up.

I really, really f****d up.

That night, I went to bed with a knot in my stomach.

Rue was already there, lying at the foot of the bed.

Not beside me.

Not with her head on my chest, her tail wrapped around my waist.

At the foot of the bed.

The distance between us felt like a chasm.

I lay there in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing.

She's punishing me, I realized. And I deserve it.

For a long time, neither of us spoke.

Then, finally, I broke the silence.

"Rue," I said softly.

She didn't respond.

"I'm sorry."

Still nothing.

I took a deep breath. "My father told me what I did. What it meant. And... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you. I didn't mean to disrespect you."

Silence.

"I thought I was being nice," I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. "In my old life, guys went easy on girls. It was just... what you did. But I realize now that this isn't my old life. And you're not... you're not some girl I'm trying to protect from getting hurt."

I paused, my throat tight.

"You're a warrior," I said. "You're the strongest person I've ever met. And you deserve to face my full power. You deserve to be challenged with everything I have. And I see that now. I see you, Rue. And I'm sorry I didn't before."

Another long silence.

Then, finally, she spoke.

"You think I'm weak."

Her voice was quiet, but there was a tremor in it—hurt, anger, something raw and vulnerable.

"No," I said immediately. "No, Rue, I don't think you're weak. I think you're incredible. I think you're stronger than anyone I've ever known."

"Then why did you hold back?"

I hesitated. "Because I was being stupid. Because I was thinking like someone from my old life, not like someone from this one. Because I didn't understand what it meant to you."

I sat up slowly, looking down at her.

She was still at the foot of the bed, her back to me, her ears pinned flat.

"You deserve to be challenged," I said. "You deserve to face my real power. Not someone who's going to coddle you or treat you like you're fragile. You're not fragile, Rue. You're a warrior. And I should have fought you with everything I have."

For a long moment, she didn't move.

Then, slowly, she turned to look at me.

Her golden eyes glowed faintly in the darkness.

"You mean that?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," I said. "I mean it."

She stared at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable.

Then, finally, she spoke.

"I want a rematch."

I blinked. "What?"

"A rematch," she repeated, her voice firm. "A real fight. No holding back. No basic spells. I want to face your full power. I want to prove myself."

A small smile tugged at my lips.

"Whatever you want," I said.

She held my gaze for a moment longer.

Then, slowly, she crawled up the bed toward me.

She nestled into my side, her head resting on my chest, her tail wrapping around my waist.

I felt the tension drain out of me, replaced by a warmth that spread through my entire body.

She forgave me.

I wrapped my arm around her, holding her close.

"I'm sorry," I whispered again.

"I know," she murmured, her voice soft. "Just... don't do it again."

"I won't," I promised.

She was quiet for a moment, her breathing slowing.

Then, just before she fell asleep, she whispered, "You're mine, Wyatt."

I smiled, my chest tight with emotion.

"I know," I whispered back. "I've always been yours."

And as I lay there, holding her close, I realized something.

This moment—this peace, this closeness—was precious.

Because I didn't know how much longer we'd have it.

The world was changing. I could feel it in the air, in the way Aldric watched the horizon with a furrowed brow, in the way my mother's smiles had grown strained.

Something was coming.

Something big.

And I had a feeling that when it arrived, everything would change.

But for now, in this moment, I had Rue.

And that was enough.

Cherish this, I thought, closing my eyes. Cherish her.

Because you never know when it might be taken away.