Highest Rank: #144 in Adventure. He was 18-years-old when his father died. He was also 18-years-old when he received his powers, one of which was the ability to manipulate metal.
After running into the city of Politum, Tyzon Foster is kidnapped by...
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Training day had commenced. Eric and I walked to the targets, where we threw the blades. There was nothing to throw except sand until he rolled out a mat with a stack of blades attached to it. He gestured his hands, inviting me to grab a knife and throw it at one of the targets. I waved my hand above the mat, searching for a good blade, and found a five and a half inch knife which seemed like the most stylish out of all the blades, but before my finger could meet it, Eric stopped me, "Not that one. It's a personal favorite."
I scowled at Eric as I searched for another one, finding a four inch knife, similar to the length of the bullets I still had in my pocket. Before I could rashly grab it out of its socket, my instincts stopped me, reminding me of my powers and how the slightest touch of metal could send me to one of the many possible hells. It was because of this that I intuitively chose the smallest blade, for it must have had the least amount of blood spilt on it in the past, judging by its size.
Obviously, I hesitated before I went ahead and touched the blade, despite its size, but Eric requested and I could not escape, "Go on, Tyzon."
As I made contact with the handle of the blade, I anticipated the visions, but like the dog tags, nothing happened. I failed to understand when they would occur or when they would not, and struggled to find any particular pattern. Since the blade did not emit any unusual visions, I slowly removed the two inch knife from the mat, aware that I could experience these visions at any possible moment.
Once I removed it, I uncovered the sleek edge of the blade. It was shiny, which told me Eric must have cleaned and cared for those knives very thoroughly as if they were his children. I stood behind the line drawn about 30 feet from the target, which was half of the original throwing knife distance. After I held my breath and lined myself up for the target, I threw it as accurately as I could using Eric's technique, and had hit the outline of the middle circle, which I classified as a success in my opinion.
"See, the thing about these throwing knives is that it doesn't matter how strong or precise you throw the knife. Everything is based on pure concentration, will and mental force. Let the target grow in front of your eyes until the bullseye is larger than a melon, then catch that opportunity and throw. Try again," Eric said.
Based on pure concentration, will and mental force, like my powers, I thought. I was becoming suspicious of Eric for the fact that he might be aware of my powers, but there was no way he could have known, nevertheless, I made a mental note of his behavior. I took another blade for another target, still cautious about the visions, though, nothing happened still.
I followed Eric's advice and instructions as I looked at the target and concentrated. I repeated Eric's words in my mind, let the target grow in front of your eyes until the bullseye is larger than a melon, then catch that opportunity and throw. It was until something happen to me that I threw the blade hitting dead-center, after less than an hour overall of training, which was nothing short of a miracle.
