[Third Person Pov]
Danny stood in the vast, snow-dusted training yard of the realm of the Far Frozen, the cold air biting at his cheeks even through his half-ghost form. The yard stretched out wide and open, surrounded by towering structures that had been carved and reinforced over countless generations. In the far distance, rows of sturdy practice targets—thick blocks of reinforced wood and stone—stood waiting, their surfaces already scarred from previous sessions.
Frostbite and a handful of other Yetis trained in a separate section of the yard, their massive forms moving with surprising grace as they practiced their own elemental control, but they kept a respectful distance so Danny could focus without feeling watched too closely.
Frostbite turned to him, his deep white fur shifting slightly in the wind, and spoke in that calm, rumbling voice of his. "We will begin simply, young one. First, I wish to see what you can already do with your ice powers. Show me your current abilities, and from there we will build your training properly."
Danny nodded, rolling his shoulders once. "Sounds good to me. Let's do this."
Without wasting another moment, he moved with fluid, stylish confidence—twisting mid-air, flipping over imaginary obstacles, and darting left and right as if the targets were real threats closing in on him. As he flipped, he raised his hands and fired sharp icicles one after another. Each projectile whistled through the air and slammed into the distant targets with solid thuds, cracking the surfaces and leaving jagged holes behind.
But he didn't stop there. While still in motion, Danny concentrated and split himself. Six identical copies of him suddenly appeared across the yard, each one a perfect duplicate down to the snow white hair and glowing green eyes.
The clones spread out, taking up positions around the targets. Ever since he had started his mental training sessions with Batman more than a week ago, Danny had pushed the limits of his duplication power. What used to be only around 3 to 4 copies had grown steadier and more numerous; he could now reliably maintain six without him having to force himself or without them draining him too quickly.
All of the Danny's in the courtyard raised their arms in unison. A coordinated volley of icicles erupted from every direction, raining down on the targets in a sharp, relentless barrage.
The impacts echoed across the yard—crack after crack as ice met wood and stone. Some targets were peppered with dozens of holes, others had large chunks blasted away. When the last icicle had flown, the clones paused for a brief second, then dissolved in flashes of light, their forms rushing back to rejoin the original Danny in an instant. He landed lightly on the snowy ground, breathing softly, clearly satisfied, and turned toward Frostbite with a small, smug grin.
"Not bad, right?" Danny said, crossing his arms. "I might not have done a ton of specific training with my ice powers, but I've trained everything else pretty hard. Combat, movement, using my powers in combination… it's nothing too impressive but I'm confident to say that I got that aspect locked down."
Frostbite watched the display quietly, then gave a few slow, approving claps of his large paws, the sound heavy and resonant. "Impressive control over your movement and duplication, young Savior. Your form is confident and your aim is true. However," he continued, his tone turning more instructional, "your problem lies mainly in the ice itself. The icicles you form are crudely shaped. There is power behind them, yes, but little refinement or deeper thought in their creation. They are blunt instruments rather than precise tools."
Danny's smug expression faltered into confusion, his brows furrowing slightly. "What do you mean? They hit the targets fine."
Frostbite smiled gently, the expression softening his fierce features. "Allow me to demonstrate."
He raised one massive paw, palm upward. A soft glow of icy blue energy began to swirl above it, gathering and condensing with visible focus. The energy tightened, sharpened, and took solid form until a short, elegant dagger of pure ice rested in his grip.
It looked almost delicate, yet there was an undeniable edge to it that caught the light. With barely any visible effort or force, Frostbite flicked his wrist and sent the dagger sailing toward the nearest target.
The blade flew straight and true, striking the exact center of the bullseye. The moment it made contact, the entire target split cleanly down the middle with a loud, resonant crack. Frosty white ice immediately spread along the fresh edges of the split, encasing them in a smooth, glistening layer that prevented any further crumbling. The two halves of the target stood separated but perfectly preserved by the ice.
Danny's eyes widened. A small, involuntary "Wow…" slipped from his lips as he stared at the clean, powerful result.
Frostbite lowered his paw and turned back to him. "There is more to ice than simply making things cold or encasing them. Ice can be a sharp, deadly force when wielded with discipline and understanding. It is not just a wall or a projectile—it is an edge, a blade, a weapon that demands precision and control. Mastering that requires patience and focus."
Danny nodded slowly, his gaze still fixed on the bisected target in the distance. The difference was obvious now. His own icicles had been functional, but Frostbite's single throw had shown an entirely different level of mastery. "Yeah… I see what you mean."
With that understanding settled between them, the official training began.
Frostbite guided Danny through a series of focused exercises centered on shaping his ice during the moment of formation.
Danny started by trying to create simple structures—first basic spikes, then attempting to refine their edges and points while they were still forming in his hands. He poured more energy into each attempt, increasing the output and density of the ice even when it left his arms aching and his core pulsing with backlash from the strain.
Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the freezing temperatures, and occasionally a burst of unstable ice would shatter or melt prematurely, sending cold shards scattering across the snow.
Frostbite stayed close the entire time, offering steady, patient advice. "Breathe through the formation. Feel the structure before you release it. Sharpen your intent the same way you sharpen your aim in flight."
When Danny's ice came out too blunt or brittle, the Yeti would demonstrate again with his own paw, showing the subtle twist of energy that added strength and edge. "Like this—condense here, then extend there. Do not rush the transition."
Danny wasn't working alone. He duplicated himself once more, creating the six clones again. Each copy took up a position in the yard, mirroring the original's efforts under Frostbite's watchful eye. One clone practiced forming thin, needle-like projectiles; another focused on wider, axe-head shapes; a third tried layering ice for added durability. All of them worked diligently, listening carefully to Frostbite's corrections and adjusting their technique accordingly. The yard filled with the sounds of ice forming, cracking, and reforming as the group trained in parallel.
Frostbite moved between them calmly, giving the same thoughtful guidance to every Danny. "Good progress on the density. Now try to maintain the edge while increasing the length… Yes, better. Feel how the energy flows differently when you guide it with purpose rather than force alone."
Danny pushed through the fatigue, determined to improve. His clones did the same, none of them complaining or slacking. The training continued steadily, the distant sounds of the other Yetis practicing in their own section providing a quiet backdrop to the focused session.
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