I’ll be the Red Ranger
Chapter 117 – Blue Crystal

- Oliver -

Oliver followed Wiz down to the lower level. As they took the first step down into the basement, the lights flickered on automatically, illuminating an enormous training facility.

The gym was equipped with an array of weights and devices that Oliver recognized from his days at the Academy: holographic sparring partners, gravity modulators, and neurally linked obstacle courses. But what caught his eye was the small arena at the center—a circular platform reminiscent of the one used in his combat classes with Ranger Weapons.

"Come on, step into the arena," Wiz invited, his voice carrying a subtle challenge.

"Against you?" Oliver asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Of course. Are you underestimating a General?" Wiz replied, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Never!" Oliver asserted though he couldn't help but glance at the General's snow-white hair. He climbed onto the arena, a mix of excitement and apprehension coursing through him. Despite Wiz's age, there was an aura of power about him.

"Start with your Artificial Ranger Armor," Wiz instructed, crossing his arms casually.

Oliver nodded and focused his energy. The crystal embedded in his gauntlet pulsed, and metallic liquid began to seep out, creeping over his body like quicksilver. The substance solidified into sleek armor plates, enveloping him piece by piece until he stood fully armored, the suit gleaming under the overhead lights.

"This armor is quite standard," Wiz observed, his eyes flicking over the suit's design. "You don't know how to alter it?"

"Not yet," Oliver admitted. "I still need more training."

"Hmm." Wiz stroked his chin thoughtfully. "When you decide to modify the armor's components, it's easier to practice with the artificial version. It consumes less of your energy."

"Understood," Oliver replied.

"Now, show me what you've got! Advance!" Wiz commanded, taking a relaxed stance.

Without hesitation, Oliver launched himself forward, drawing upon the New Earth Army Style. He unleashed a flurry of punches and kicks, his movements fluid and precise, each strike calculated. But to his confusion, every attack seemed to pass right through Wiz as if the General were merely a hologram.

"Good! Good!" Wiz commented, sidestepping effortlessly. "You don’t have much strength, but your agility is impressive."

Oliver gritted his teeth, frustration bubbling up. What was happening? His blows felt strong, but there was no impact, no resistance. It was as if he were shadowboxing.

He took a few steps back, trying to steady his breathing. Wiz didn't give him time to regroup. The General closed the distance with surprising speed, his movements a blur. For the first time, Wiz attacked.

Oliver saw the punch aimed at his stomach and moved to block it. He was certain he'd intercepted the strike—until he felt a sharp jolt as Wiz's fist connected with his jaw instead.

"What the—?" Oliver stumbled back, bewildered. How had the punch gotten past his guard?

They continued this surreal dance. Oliver defended against attacks that never came, only to be struck from unexpected angles. Each time, he was sure he had anticipated Wiz's moves, but each time, he was proven wrong.

‘What's he doing?’ Oliver thought desperately. His mind raced to find an explanation. Was Wiz using some kind of advanced holographic technology? A cloaking device?

"You're relying too much on your eyes," Wiz said aloud, as if reading his thoughts. The General's expression remained calm, almost amused.

Oliver's confusion deepened. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to focus. Maybe Wiz was right. He needed to tap into more than just his visual senses.

For a moment, Oliver stopped fixating on Wiz's physical movements and instead attuned himself to the energy coursing through the room. With his heightened sensitivity, he could perceive the General's presence without relying on sight—he could “feel” where Wiz was, even with his eyes closed.

He took a deep breath and let his eyelids fall shut. Almost immediately, the chaotic environment settled into a tapestry of energy patterns. Through this new lens, he sensed a punch directed toward him. His eyes, if open, would have shown Wiz's fist aiming straight for his stomach. But through his energy perception, he realized that the General's arm was actually targeting his face.

His visual and energetic senses clashed, each insisting on a different reality. Confusion knotted his thoughts as he tried to reconcile the conflicting information. In that split second of hesitation, the punch connected—striking his face yet again.

Pain radiated from his cheek as Oliver stumbled back, shaking his head to clear the dizziness. "What is happening?" he muttered under his breath.

Wiz observed him with a calm expression. "Wiz isn't my real name," the General declared, his tone tinged with pride. "It's a nickname some fellow officers gave me long ago. They said watching me on the battlefield was something magical—something only a wizard could accomplish."

He raised a hand casually. To Oliver's astonishment, a moment later, there were suddenly two hands where there should have been only one. Then three, four, five—the number of hands multiplied rapidly, fanning out in a bewildering display.

"You create mirages?" Oliver asked, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"Mirages?" Wiz echoed with a faint smirk. "That's a rather reductive way to put it. I control photons. When you master light itself, you can create illusions—or unleash blinding flashes." A searing brilliance erupted from his outstretched hand as if to illustrate his point.

Oliver had to shut his eyes tightly as the intense light flooded the room, threatening to overwhelm his senses. Even with his eyelids scrunched closed, the luminosity penetrated, painting his vision with white-hot afterimages.

When he cautiously reopened his eyes, blinking against the residual glare, the light receded. The training arena returned to focus, and shadows gradually reasserted themselves. He gazed at the General with a mixture of awe and dawning comprehension.

"It's quite useful," Wiz explained, "but against more seasoned opponents, I lose much of my combat capability." He paused, considering the gauntlet on Oliver's arm. "Alright. Now let's swap out your crystal."

Oliver nodded and deactivated his armor. Holding the gauntlet, he pressed a small button along its side. With a soft hiss, the metallic-hued stone he'd been using ejected, dropping into his palm. In its place, he inserted the blue crystal that pulsed with a vibrant, almost hypnotic glow.

The moment the gauntlet reconnected with the energy of the Z Crystal, a sudden weakness washed over him. His surroundings blurred, and once again, he found himself standing in the same enigmatic chamber from the day before.

This time, the grand throne at the far end was empty. Turning around, he spotted an immense staircase extending downward toward what seemed to be the outside of an ancient temple. Its colossal pillars and ornate carvings loomed above, but as quickly as the vision appeared, it dissolved, and Oliver was back in the training arena.

"Try activating it," Wiz suggested, his eyes keenly observing every nuance.

Oliver took a deep breath and nodded. "Blue Ranger, activate!"

The sensation was entirely different from before. Previously, it felt as though liquid metal was expanding from the crystal, enveloping his body piece by piece to form the armor. This time, pure energy surged through him—raw and unfiltered—materializing the armor around his form in a cascade of shimmering blue light.

"Finally!" a familiar voice echoed in his mind. It was Athena speaking to him for the first time since he'd touched the crystal.

As the last fragments of armor solidified, Oliver felt an overwhelming surge of power. It was unmistakable—his abilities had skyrocketed. He estimated his strength to be at least ten times greater than when he wore his artificial armor, and he hadn't even trained with this new equipment yet.

"Excellent!" Wiz exclaimed, a rare smile crossing his features. "Impressive indeed. Many Rangers take weeks, even months, to attune to their crystals and activate their armor. It's often a battle of wills, forcing the crystal to submit."

"How do you feel?" Wiz asked, his gaze penetrating.

"Powerful," Oliver replied simply, the understatement evident in his voice.

"Then let's continue." Wiz stepped back, adopting a ready stance. "Show me what you can do."

Determined to capitalize on his newfound strength, Oliver decided to give it everything he had, aiming to outpace the General before he could react.

[Prometheus]

In an instant, he channeled nearly all of his energy into his right arm—a risky move, but one Oliver believed would overwhelm any defense. He felt the power concentrate, his arm humming with barely contained force.

He propelled himself forward, the ground cracking beneath his feet from the sudden acceleration. Wiz's eyes widened slightly—a flicker of surprise—as Oliver closed the gap between them in the blink of an eye. With a mighty roar, Oliver unleashed his punch.

The sheer force of the attack was beyond anything he'd ever produced. The energy blast streaked toward Wiz, distorting the air around it. Recognizing the imminent danger, Wiz executed a swift, evasive maneuver, barely slipping out of the attack's path.

The impact was catastrophic. The side of the arena exploded in a shower of debris, the reinforced walls buckling under the stress. Alarms blared as structural integrity fields struggled to contain the damage. Smoke and dust filled the air, obscuring visibility.

Wiz landed gracefully a short distance away, but his usually composed demeanor was tinged with concern. "I think going to need to get you to a medic," he spoke.

Confused by the statement, Oliver looked down at his arm—and horror flooded through him. His hand and forearm were gone, vaporized from the elbow down.