The royal palace gardens shimmered under the soft glow of the evening sun. Among the blooming flowers and trimmed hedges, Light stood alone, his sword gripped tightly in both hands. Each swing cut the air with frustration rather than confidence.
His mind replayed the battle against the humanoid Kaiju again and again. Hikari and Lothar held their ground… while I… I was useless.
Lowering his blade, Light clenched his teeth. "I have to get stronger. Like Hikari, like Lothar. I can channel Voltra into my blade, but… I can't fire beams like they did. I can't release it at all."
He shut his eyes, focusing on the pulsing energy within his body. Sweat rolled down his forehead as he tried to will his Voltra out. A faint spark flared along his sword's edge, then died. He exhaled sharply. Not enough… it's never enough.
Still, he didn't stop. Again and again, he pushed himself, trying to force the energy outward. The determination in his eyes burned brighter than the setting sun.
---
Meanwhile, across the city, Hikari returned home. Her tired feet carried her through the door as she set her weapon aside and finally let herself breathe. She leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling.
"There are too many questions in my head…" she whispered. Lothar's strange powers… a Kaiju that could talk… none of it makes sense.
Her chest rose and fell in a long sigh. "But I should rest. I'll need my strength later." Closing her eyes, she allowed herself a moment of peace, the first since the chaos of the Kaiju attack.
---
Back in the gardens, Light's frustration only deepened. Hours passed before a familiar voice broke his focus.
"Hey, Light. How's the training going?"
Light lowered his sword to see Karem standing nearby. His friend's usual playful grin was absent, replaced with curiosity.
"Not well," Light admitted bitterly. "I'm already eighteen, and I still can't release my Voltra. Most hybrids learn when they're twelve. Why can't I?"
Karem frowned. "That's strange. Usually, it comes naturally at your age. Maybe you should ask the kings. What if there's something wrong? A disease or something? At least get checked by a doctor—physical problems can happen, you know."
Light shook his head, frustration evident in his voice. "I've asked my father many times. He always ends the conversation the same way: 'You don't need Voltra. You're a prince. You already have everything you need.' But he knows I want to be king. And a king must be the strongest. His people should be able to rely on him."
Karem let out a long sigh and threw his hands in the air. "Alright, enough of this talk. I came here to ask if you wanted to go outside with me. But as always, you're stuck on the same subject."
Light turned back to his sword, tightening his grip. "Don't say that. You know how serious I am about this. I'm not going anywhere. I'll keep training."
Karem stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. "Fine. Do what you want." He turned and left, leaving Light once again alone with his frustration.
---
Two days passed.
And in those two days, Light didn't stop. His hands blistered, his arms trembled, and exhaustion weighed down on him, but his resolve only grew. Through countless failures, he finally felt a faint shift within himself—something different, something new.
The narrator's voice seemed to echo over his struggle:
Voltra is the energy every hybrid is born with. Its capacity is determined from birth—sometimes more, sometimes less. A child's health, their family, and their bloodline all influence it.
The mighty Draekor family, for example, produce children with enough Voltra to equal twenty hybrids combined. They even inherit a rare ability—the power to heal themselves and others. Their very bloodline is proof of strength.
But unlike the Draekors, ordinary hybrids are not destined for such greatness. Yet… with intense training and relentless determination, it is possible to expand one's Voltra capacity. Difficult, nearly impossible for most—but it was possible.