Same Old Routine

[Allan]

Allan nodded and headed to his own room to remove the uniform and changed into a pair of sweats and a white tank top. Comfort wasn't always the best form to practice in, but there was no telling how long they'd be at this if he were inept at reaching the power without conquering some sort of block. They all had to deal with it. Very few men he'd met came to the power without having found a way to survive. Those that didn't were either dead. Everyone he knew had suffered the sickness. That included the Atharim brat who plagued his thoughts once again. He'd flung flows like they were nothing. Allan still didn't manage more than keeping his flows going one at a time, the kid had learned faster than he had and Allan hated him for that just as much as he had the interactions he and the Ascendancy shared. Allan wanted to growl but instead he pulled upon the power and headed out into the training room.

The training room held the standard workout equipment in one corner, a gun range down another hall, but the channeling course and sparing rings took up most of the space that constituted the training room. Allan stood in the middle of the room and drew upon all his power. The source raged inside him and the light grew to a crescendo before he threw a fireball down towards the end of the room where fireproofed paneling lined the wall. The power charred yet another spot into the blue color and Allan smiled imagining the Atharim brat at the other end of the target. He'd probably bat it away with ease or cut it with a slice Allan never even saw. But it was still a satisfying image watching the fireball splatter against the wall. If only...