False Gods | The Prime Archives #3 ✓

seven

It was Tuesday, Chase's favorite day of the week.

Why was it his favorite? Well, that was because it the day of his weekly sparring session with Victor. Every week, the two of them met in the wee hours of the morning to beat the crap out of each other.

Their battles, while were allegedly just to keep in shape, were fights for dominance. It was no secret that Victor was dissatisfied with Chase as a leader, but there was no way in hell he would relinquish control to him.

The thought of having to step down as leader nearly got him decapitated.

Grunting, he ducked beneath a vicious swing of Victor's infamous crimson blade. He tightened his grip on his own sword, raising it just in time to block another strike. It was moments like those where he was extremely grateful for his hyperstrength.

While Victor's abilities didn't enhance his physical capabilities, his strength and skill were enough to cut down even the most skilled swordsmen. Luckily, Chase wasn't too shabby with a blade himself.

After a few more parries, the two of them broke away from each other. They circled each other like sharks in the dimly lit training room they found themselves in. Their heavy breathing was the only sound filling the silence between them.

Sweat dripped from Chase's face. His skin was tinged red, mostly from exhaustion but he could already feel a few bruises forming beneath the surface. While he might have been bulletproof to a certain extent, he still suffered from internal injuries.

The two men had been fighting for about half an hour now. Everyone else in The Haven was still asleep—that is unless the sound of metal clanging hadn't woken them up already. This had been one of their longest sparring sessions to date. Yet, neither one of them seemed to indicate any signs of giving up—no matter how exhausted they looked.

He didn't like Victor much, but he couldn't help but respect his grit and determination.

The ex-assassin and bioterrorist had been trained well by Kismet. However, it was clear his energy was waning. He tiredly wiped the sweat from his heaving, tattooed-covered chest. His shaggy, midnight black hair clung to his pale skin.

Chase had to admit he was feeling drained too. Since he was able to summon more energy within his muscles, it meant he tired quicker than the average person. For years he had been training to expand his stamina threshold, but there was only so much he could do without taking a break.

Besides, he hadn't even had breakfast yet.

"Truce?" Chase suggested.

Victor studied him for a few seconds, his blue eyes narrowed into slits.

"Truce."

They both lowered their swords and cautiously approached each other. Once they were close enough, Chase extended his hand toward the other man. The black-haired Prime eyed it for a moment before snorting.

He turned around and made his way to the exit.

Scowling, Chase shook his head.

Even three years later the two of them had yet to become anything more than glorified roommates. He wasn't sure if they would ever be friends. Then again, there was a part of him that didn't even want to. While Victor may not have been entirely at fault for what happened to him, he was an adult now. He couldn't blame his childhood on his terrible attitude forever.

Chase let out a long exhale and made his way over to a bench in the corner of the room. The cool air slowly filling the room from an improperly sealed window felt soothing against his hot skin. As he sat down, he took a looking around the training room.