Battle Of Planets

Inside the massive headquarters of the Rangers Association, the building housed at least fifty state-of-the-art training facilities, each equipped with reinforced materials designed to withstand the intense power and force generated during the Rangers' rigorous training.

The room Tyson entered was one of the largest in the entire complex, reserved only for the elite. It was a place where the strongest of the strong honed their skills, a testament to the high standards upheld by the Association.

The walls were lined with thick, durable panels capable of absorbing the impact from even the most powerful strikes, while the floors were padded with a material that could cushion any fall, ensuring the safety of those who pushed their limits. This was no ordinary training ground; it was a sanctuary for the warriors in training, where the boundaries of human strength were tested to their breaking point.

Tyson stepped into the vast training room and immediately spotted Alex, who was already geared up in his tight-fitting black rubber suit. The suit was a standard issue for Rangers during training and combat scenarios, designed to optimize performance in high-stakes environments. Made from a highly evolved rubber-like substance, it offered a perfect balance of durability and flexibility, enabling Rangers to move with heightened precision and agility.

Unlike regular cotton clothes, which restricted movement and made Rangers vulnerable in battle, the combat suit enhanced reflexes and improved the wearer's combat instincts. It was more than just a uniform—it was a vital tool in a Ranger's arsenal. When worn, it could boost battle performance by up to 10 percent, a crucial advantage in both training and real combat situations.

Most Rangers wore the suit daily, especially those stationed at the headquarters, where they spent most of their time either training or waiting for the chance to prove their skills against rogue elements.

Tyson's muscles flexed beneath the sleek rubber suit as he stretched the fabric tightening over his form, The faint white glow of the triangular Meta-bot on his chest pulsed softly, its light syncing with his movements.

Alex, always confident, tapped his red watch. Tyson caught the subtle shift in his posture just before Alex twisted his wrist, activating the watch. A circular surface emerged from the device and hovered in front of Alex's palm, ready to transform him into the iconic Red- black Ranger. The process was quick, efficient, and almost second nature to him by now.

"How about a spar," Alex said with a sly grin, his voice teasing. "Unless you're afraid of me"

Tyson smirked, his posture shifting into a more combative stance. "Afraid of you Nah, let's do this."

Edward calmly folded the sleeve of his shirt, revealing a collection of old scars that marred his forearm—marks of battles fought and survived. His tall, muscular frame radiated a quiet strength as he cracked his fingers with a soft, audible snap. With a focused expression, he moved towards the rotating screen mounted on the wall, his eyes scanning the video feed. He swiped through the images, looking for something, a specific detail, or perhaps a clue hidden in the static.

Edward ignored the clashing sounds behind him, where his two sons were locked in combat, their weapons meeting with a sharp, metallic cling as they both tested each other's skills. His gaze remained fixed on the screen before him, unaffected by their battle. With a swift swipe, he pulled up their profiles—holograms of Tyson and Alex appeared in front of him, each one rotating slowly, their armored forms shimmering with data. Tyson's score read twelve points, while Alex's was a staggering nineteen. Edward studied the numbers for a moment, his expression unreadable, before turning back to the ongoing fight.

"I see no growth in either of you," Edward said, his voice heavy with disappointment. The words hung in the air as Tyson and Alex paused mid-strike, exchanging a brief look before turning their attention to their father. "This is unacceptable. The tournament could be called at any moment, without warning, and yet you both seem to be taking this lightly."

Edward touched his ring, and in the blink of an eye, he transformed into the formidable ranger. "You both need real battle experience—life-and-death situations to force you to grow stronger."

"I'm trying my best," Alex responded almost immediately.

Edward's gaze sharpened his voice cutting through the tension. "Yet you let that rogue escape. He's still ahead of you, even though he had no training, no support—nothing like what you two have. Why is that?"

"Because he causes trouble," Tyson replied, his voice laced with frustration. "Last time, he robbed a bank with his friends. And yet, Master, you want to recruit him"

"Right," Alex nodded a sly smirk on his face. "For once, this idiot's making some sense."

"How dare you," Tyson retorted, his fists tightening.

"Enough with your bickering," Edward interjected, his voice firm. "He's capable, and we need people like him. Unless you two become stronger, I'll keep pushing to bring him into our facility."

"We are getting stronger," said Tyson.

"Show me," Edward said, "both of you come at me, now"

Before Alex could react, the Silver-Black Ranger was upon him. The punch collided with his red Katana, sending sparks flying in every direction. Alex barely had time to register the impact before a powerful kick slammed into his chest, sending him flying across the field.

"Fast—" Tyson began, but his words were cut off by the sudden appearance of Edward beside him. He barely managed to leap back in time, avoiding a direct collision.

"Woah, that was close," Tyson muttered under his breath.

"That was just a warning," Edward corrected, his tone sharp. Summoning his bow, he swung it with practiced ease. "Now we're going to get serious. Make sure you two work together to defeat me."

Tyson gripped his sword tightly, the familiar weight grounding him. He could also summon a shield using the nanobots when the situation called for it—a tactical blend of offense and defense that suited his style. Alex, his red Katana still in hand, stood ready, his focus sharp and unwavering. Edward, his bow gleaming under the artificial light, remained calm, embodying the perfect mix of power and precision.

"Show me the teamwork of brothers," Edward said, his voice unwavering as he single-handedly defended against Alex's heavy strike, not even budging. The air around them rippled with the force. "Try harder."

Alex's strikes came faster and fiercer, one after another, but Edward effortlessly manhandled him, blocking and redirecting every move. Meanwhile, Tyson hesitated, gathering his courage to join the fray.

"I can do this!" Tyson shouted, propelling himself into the battle.

Edward skillfully parried both their blows, counterattacking with precision as the two boys relentlessly pressed him. The clang of metal reverberated through the closed training facility. Tyson and Alex tried to attack from all angles, but every strike was met with Edward's mastery. With a single sweep of his metallic bow, Tyson was knocked to the ground, and Alex fell over him.

"What the hell?! Stop pulling people down, you weak ass!" Alex grumbled, pressing Tyson down with frustration, but before he could get up, Tyson pulled him back into the fray.

"Sorry about that, prince," Tyson smirked.

"You're dead," Alex growled, an edge to his voice.

The two Rangers grappled fiercely, each trying to prevent the other from regaining their footing.

Edward sighed, his bow dissolving back into his silver-black armor. "You guys aren't gonna learn a thing, are you?"

Edward gripped their feet and threw them against the wall like ragdolls. They slammed one after another with a deafening crash, wailing in pain as their bodies crumpled to the floor.

"You cannot defeat your opponent unless you work together," Edward's voice rang with authority.

Alex frowned, his pride flaring. "I don't need any help to defeat my enemies. I'll do it alone."

Without another word, he rushed at Edward, attempting an air kick. But before his foot could even connect, Edward caught his ankle in midair, his grip like iron.

Tyson, eager to prove himself, shouted, "So do I!" But the moment he threw a punch, Edward's hand closed around his fist, rendering his attack just as useless as Alex's.

Edward shook his head in disappointment, his tone calm but stern.

"You can win a battle alone, but if you want to win a war, you have to work with others." With that, he spun, effortlessly tossing both of them in separate directions.

As Tyson and Alex lay there, breathless and aching, Edward's gaze softened slightly. He wasn't disappointed by their strength or skill—he knew they were powerful. But their behavior, their refusal to cooperate, was their greatest flaw.

Individually, they could be formidable. But in the world of battle, strength alone wasn't enough. Many powerful warriors had perished because they failed to understand that. He would not let his sons be among them.

"Let's start again."

They pushed through the training, their bodies protesting every movement until exhaustion overtook them. Every muscle screamed for rest, and yet, they continued, their wills stronger than the fatigue. By the time the session ended, neither of them could stand without wobbling.

It was already night when Edward finally called it quits. With a mischievous grin, he invited both of them to a family drinking contest, a tradition where the winner was always Edward.

Alex, ever calculating, quickly found a way to escape. "This is no fun anymore," he muttered before heading to the Rogers family mansion, leaving Tyson and Edward behind at the headquarters.

Tyson, exhausted but not complaining, collapsed onto the floor, leaning back against the couch. Empty bottles of alcohol littered the room, surrounded by a bag of chips and various snacks. It was Edward's unconventional way of bonding with his sons—an odd mixture of camaraderie and challenge.

Edward glanced over at Tyson, his eyes softening for a brief moment. He knew Alex hated these moments. Alex always grumbled, complaining that Edward didn't act his age or his position. But to Edward, this was the only way to truly bond. He was a father trying to connect with his sons, however clumsily.

"Alex just doesn't get it, does he?" Edward muttered, taking a swig from his bottle.

Tyson smiled faintly, his fatigue mixing with a hint of amusement. "He never does."

Edward sighed deeply, the weight of his thoughts pressing heavily on his chest.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The room was filled with quiet tension until Edward finally broke the silence, his voice softer than usual.

"Please don't hate him for that, and don't take his words to heart," Edward said, his tone almost pleading. "He's hot-headed but cool at heart. He doesn't know how to show emotions... he just—"

Edward paused, his gaze distant, lost in the memories of his own mistakes. "He grew up that way because he didn't have a mother to guide him. And I wasn't there either. I was drunk on power, wanting to do something extraordinary, but in the end, I lost precious things... people." His eyes finally met Tyson's, calm yet filled with hidden regrets, regrets that had never fully left him. "It was my entire fault. I am guilty... Forgive me, my child, for everything."

Tyson's lips curled into a faint smile, though the pain behind it was undeniable. "Don't worry, old man. We're good," he said, though there was a longing in his voice, "He's lucky to have you."

Edward chuckled, the sound rumbling with warmth, "You both are lucky to have me as a father."

Tyson let out a small laugh, the sincerity in Edward's voice bringing a rare, faint smile to his face.

For Tyson, the only person who had ever truly treated him like family was none other than his kind master. The same man who had embraced an orphan like him, and in doing so, had given Tyson something he'd never thought he'd have again—a sense of belonging.