Early the next morning, Diana took Shane to the training ground.
They drove out of the city and headed toward the suburbs for more than half an hour before stopping in front of an open area enclosed by a black fence.
There was no sign at the gate. Diana scanned the metal bracelet on her wrist, and the fence slowly opened.
The moment Shane stepped inside, shock flashed through his eyes.
The training ground was far larger than he had imagined, as big as a standard golf course. Its surface was covered in a special elastic material. Several training targets of different shapes stood in the distance, while transparent energy barriers glimmered faintly in the sunlight.
"Superman and Batman helped set up the equipment here."
Diana explained as they walked.
"There's an antigravity generator that can simulate the vacuum of space, and an energy-impact simulator that can reproduce attacks of varying strength."
She pressed a button on a nearby console. Shane suddenly felt lighter. Gravity around him weakened by more than half, and the ground beneath his feet seemed to turn soft.
Over the next week, Shane began systematic training.
Diana's methods were nothing like the brutal trials on Viltrum. She never asked Shane to launch destructive attacks. Instead, she had him practice precise movements.
"Power can be used to destroy, but it can also be used to protect."
Diana held Shane's wrist and guided him to focus his strength on a designated spot on the target.
"You need to learn to feel where your power is going and make it obey your will, instead of letting instinct drive you."
Shane studied hard.
He discovered that Diana was far stronger than he had imagined. Even when she deliberately held back, centuries of combat experience were enough for her to take him down with ease.
It wasn't as though Shane had never seen someone fight using technique and experience alone.
Viltrumites trained in combat techniques too.
But Viltrumites were physically superior to the inhabitants of most planets. Their fighting style was designed to kill enemies of comparable strength as quickly as possible. It was fiercely aggressive, with every move aimed at a vital point and delivered at full force.
What Diana taught Shane was more like the fighting styles used by the physically weaker natives of planets the Viltrumites had conquered.
Put plainly, against the brute force of a Viltrumite, those styles were useless.
Their practitioners often had their chests punched through before they could even track a Viltrumite's movements.
But what Diana demonstrated was different.
When their strength was equal, Shane's savage fighting style gave him no advantage over her.
Between training sessions, Diana occasionally received calls for help from other regions and went to deal with chaos caused by supervillains.
At those times, Shane either stayed at the training ground to practice alone or put on a hoodie and wandered the streets of Boston.
Boston's streets blended the old with the new.
He strolled along the Freedom Trail, where eighteenth-century buildings stood beside modern shops on either side of the red-brick path;
he paused at Quincy Market to breathe in the aromas of grilled lobster and clam chowder;
and he sat on a bench beside the Charles River, watching sunlight sparkle on the water while young people rowed boats and played in the distance.
He had never experienced such peace on Viltrum. The nerves that had been wound tight for more than a decade gradually began to relax.
Sometimes, Shane watched Diana fight villains from afar.
With the Vulcan Sword in hand, Diana sent golden flashes through the sunlight, yet she never dealt a fatal wound.
Each strike precisely cut into an opponent's tendons, robbing them of mobility. Then she knocked them unconscious with a heavy but nonlethal blow.
Shane stood in the shadow of a street corner, his brow furrowed.
By everything he had been taught on Viltrum, fighting that way was practically asking to die.
She held a blade capable of slaying gods, yet attacked only nonlethal areas. It wasted energy and gave her enemies chances to strike back.
His instincts screamed at him to rush in and deal with them in the most direct, violent way possible, but he held himself back.
Diana's formidable fighting ability and steady composure forced him to admit that this "nondestructive" way of fighting was also the mark of a powerful warrior.
He did not notice the black-robed figure hidden behind the clouds, staring fixedly at him with eyes glowing an eerie red.
"My dear sister, when did you acquire such a fierce little follower?"
The mysterious figure used magic to examine him more closely, growing more astonished the longer she looked.
This seemingly young boy possessed tremendous fighting power, and the stench of blood clung heavily to him.
Seen through magic, Shane was wreathed in crimson and black, countless resentful spirits tangled around him. In sheer number, they rivaled those surrounding her brother, Ares, God of War.
Yet the records of the Divine Realm held no trace of this terrifying mortal. It was as though he had appeared in this world out of thin air.
"What an interesting little thing."
An eerie smile curled the black-robed figure's lips, and a calculating gleam flashed in her eyes.
Diana had repeatedly interrupted her attempts to gather the energy she needed in the mortal world. She had long wanted to teach her a lesson she would feel to the bone.
Perhaps this boy who had come from nowhere was just the "material" she needed.
That afternoon, Shane finished training and wandered through Boston's North End in a gray hoodie.
The neighborhood was home to a large Italian community. Rich aromas drifted from the pizzerias and cafés lining the streets, and colorful graffiti covered the walls.
Shane was looking down at the handmade jewelry on a street stall when a shadow, its form concealed by magic, landed lightly beside him.
His senses caught the sudden gaze. He turned instinctively and saw a bald white woman.
She had strange green eyes and wore gold hoop earrings and a tight black dress that hugged every curve.
Shane frowned. Her outfit struck him as rather provocative, and he assumed she was a sex worker. He turned to walk around her.
"Excuse me."
"Don't rush off, little one."
The woman's voice carried a strange allure as she slowly opened her hand.
A golden apple lay in her palm. A soft golden light shone from its surface, where countless tiny runes seemed to flow.
"I have something wonderful for you."
The instant Shane saw the Golden Apple, his pupils contracted.
An indescribable desire surged from deep within him: a Viltrumite's instinctive urge to possess, a fierce hunger for power and rare treasures.
His breathing quickened. He stared fixedly at the Golden Apple as the destructive urges and killing instincts he had suppressed began clamoring in his mind.
Satisfaction flashed through the woman's eyes. She could feel the Golden Apple's magic taking effect. It was a divine artifact; even Zeus in his youth had been unable to resist its temptation.
One more push, and the boy would lose control completely.
But she had not expected Shane's response to be so direct—or so savage.
The moment desire surged through him, Shane lunged without hesitation, moving so fast he left an afterimage in the air.
Before the woman could react, his fist tore through the air and straight through her chest.
"Urgh..."
The satisfaction in her eyes froze, replaced by stunned disbelief.
She looked down at the bloody hole in her chest, unable to understand how things had come to this.
Shane ignored her shock and reached for the Golden Apple in her palm.
Blood spilled from the woman's mouth, and panic filled her eyes. Instinctively, she cast a spell, causing Shane's hand to pass straight through the Golden Apple.
They seemed to occupy different spaces. He could not touch it at all.
"Damn it! Where did this barbarian come from?"
The woman was about to breathe a sigh of relief, but Shane's next move was just as swift.
He drew back the arm that had pierced her chest, then clamped his fingers around her spine.
Shane had never encountered magic, but his combat instincts, now sharpened to their peak, told him that if he wanted the treasure, he first had to incapacitate the woman.
She was one of the Goddesses of Calamity, and her divine body was tough. But she was no battle goddess, and she could not withstand Shane's monstrous strength.
Crack, crack, crack.
Hundreds of thousands of tons of force pulled at her spine. Under the strain, it began to splinter.
The agony tore a scream from the woman. Her mind in disarray, she could no longer maintain the spell protecting the Golden Apple.
The next instant, Shane seized the Golden Apple as he had intended and ripped out the woman's spine.
The apple's cool metallic feel contrasted strangely with the warmth of its surface. Its alluring magic deepened the look in his eyes.
By Viltrum's rules of survival, the simplest way to get something valuable was to take it. Whether its owner lived or died had never entered into the calculation.
The woman's body gradually turned transparent. The confusion in her eyes gave way to hatred and resentment before she dissolved into a wisp of black smoke.
Shane stood there holding the Golden Apple, the daze in his eyes gradually clearing.
He looked down at the gleaming apple in his hand and scratched his head.
"What is this thing?"
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