Love Against All Odds

Leo - Training

Leo Valdez wiped the sweat from his brow, the sting of exhaustion settling into his muscles as if every fibre of his body was protesting. He and Piper stood on the training grounds, a wide, open expanse dotted with worn patches of grass and dirt. The air was crisp and biting, typical of a cold December day, but the sun hung low, casting a pale light over the field. Wooden dummies stood at attention in the corners, scarred from years of strikes, and the perimeter was lined with stacks of weapons—swords, spears, and shields, all waiting to be used. The ground beneath their feet was soft, the dirt shifting slightly with every step, making it harder to maintain their footing as they caught their breath from the last round of sparring.

Across from them stood Oskar, a striking contradiction to the freezing December air. While the cold gnawed at Leo and Piper, leaving their breath visible in the chill, Oskar seemed utterly impervious. The relentless pace of their training hadn't left him winded like the rest of them. His broad chest, gleaming with a sheen of sweat, was the only sign he had exerted any effort. He stood tall, muscles coiled beneath his skin like a predator ready to pounce, his relaxed and alert posture. That calm, predatory look sent a shiver down Leo's spine—a different cold from the winter air.

Oskar was in his element. This wasn't the laid-back guy Leo remembered from the camp tours, the one who had seemed almost too casual for a head counsellor. No, this was Oskar, the warrior, the unyielding trainer who showed no mercy in the face of their inexperience. There was a sharpness to him here, a honed edge that Leo hadn't noticed before, but now that they were in the training grounds, it was impossible to miss.

Leo's gaze wandered to the scars that marked Oskar's side and stomach, long and jagged, the kind of marks only a true fighter earned. Oskar hadn't just been through battles; he had survived them, learned from them, and now used that knowledge to train others. There was no mistaking that this man was a warrior who had faced death and come out stronger on the other side.

Oskar was more than just a counsellor or guide on the training grounds. He was a living testament to what it took to survive the dangers that awaited them outside the camp—the kind of dangers Leo was only beginning to understand.

Oskar's blue eyes flicked between them, reading their fatigue, yet he showed no sign of stopping.

The camp had decided they needed at least a couple of days of solid training before being sent off on their next quest. As much as Leo hated to admit it, it was a good call. Jason may have been a natural leader, practically born to wield a sword, but Leo? He was more of an "explode things from a distance" guy, and Piper's charm-speak, while handy, wasn't going to cut it in close combat.

Oskar stepped forward, his boots crunching against the dirt as he sized them up. He held two daggers loosely in his hands as if they were an extension of his arms. There was no tension in his stance, just fluidity and control. 

"All right," Oskar said, "we're going through basic parries and strikes. You can't rely on luck or instincts alone out there. You need control. Precision."

Leo exchanged a glance with Piper. Oskar didn't seem the type to take it easy on anyone, no matter how inexperienced. They'd have to keep up.

Oskar demonstrated a quick parry, his movements so fast and efficient that Leo barely saw it coming. Then, with an almost lazy flick of his wrist, he reversed into a strike, the dagger cutting through the air with deadly accuracy. "Like this," Oskar said, stepping back into position.

Piper was up first, gripping her dagger awkwardly, still unfamiliar with the weight and balance of the weapon. Her stance was tense, betraying her unease, but she set her jaw, determined to face Oskar head-on. He moved toward her with slow, calculated steps, his expression unreadable. The air seemed to tighten as their blades clashed, the sharp ring of steel cutting through the cold air. Oskar's strikes were quick but measured, testing her reflexes without overwhelming her. Piper managed to block the first two attacks, her brow furrowed in concentration, but her movements were stiff, and Oskar, with a swift parry, slipped past her defence.