Temporal Dominion

Lucian stood in the academy's private training hall, his body drenched in sweat.

For hours, he had been pushing himself, refining his control over Temporal Strike, his primary offensive technique. He had managed to increase its speed and range, but he knew there was still a gap—a flaw he couldn't quite overcome.

And after his recent battles, he knew one thing with certainty. He wasn't strong enough yet.

His fingers twitched as he reached out, trying once more.

The air shimmered. Time wavered. He struck forward—

But just as his attack surged ahead, it suddenly vanished.

Lucian's eyes widened in shock. What?

A low chuckle echoed from behind him. "Your mind hesitated, and so did your attack."

Lucian turned sharply to see a tall man leaning against the training hall's entrance, arms crossed. He had short silver-streaked hair, piercing blue eyes, and an air of quiet authority.

Professor Callen.

A man known for his mastery of memory-based abilities and psychological warfare.

Lucian straightened. "Professor Callen."

Callen stepped forward, his gaze sharp yet unreadable. "I was assigned to oversee your training. Seems you're struggling with something."

Lucian exhaled, wiping sweat from his brow. "I keep refining my technique, but it still feels incomplete. I can hit harder, but I'm still predictable."

Callen smirked. "That's because you're relying too much on instinct, not enough on understanding."

Lucian frowned. "What do you mean?"

Callen's expression remained calm. "Time is memory, Lucian. Every second that passes becomes the past, every action you take leaves an imprint. Right now, you're only thinking of time in motion—but what if you could also use it to anticipate?"

Lucian absorbed his words carefully.

Memory… anticipation?

Callen lifted a hand, and the space around him shifted. Suddenly, Lucian's surroundings blurred for a fraction of a second.

And then—Lucian saw himself.

A faint echo of himself, repeating his last attack. A fragment of memory still lingering in the air.

Lucian's breath hitched.

Callen let the illusion fade. "That was a mere glimpse. My ability allows me to manipulate memory, both my own and others'. I can recall past movements perfectly, predict sequences, even erase small fragments from the minds of my opponents."

Lucian swallowed. "You can erase memories?"

Callen chuckled. "Selective ones. That's why I was chosen to train you."

Lucian hesitated. "What does that have to do with my power?"

Callen's eyes gleamed. "Because time and memory are intertwined. If you can read the past clearly, you can predict the future. If you learn how to control the traces of time left behind, you can make your movements unpredictable—even to those who can see the future."

Lucian's eyes widened.

This was something new. Something beyond what he had considered.

Callen stepped forward. "Show me your Temporal Strike again. But this time—don't just move forward. Look back. Read the memory of your last strike and use it to refine your next."

Lucian nodded, steadying himself.

This time, he didn't just launch the attack.

He recalled every movement. The angle of his arm, the exact point where the energy formed, the moment where his attack started to distort.

The air wavered, and a faint afterimage of his previous attack lingered for a second longer.

Lucian adjusted—and struck again.

The new Temporal Strike was different.

Faster. More precise. Refined.

Callen grinned. "Good. You're beginning to understand."

Lucian exhaled, his mind whirling.

This was a breakthrough.

He wasn't just controlling time—he was learning from it.

And with Callen's guidance, he knew he would reach the next level.