The dawn broke cold and gray over the academy grounds, the kind of morning that seemed to wash the sky clean of color. Kaison had barely slept, his body aching from yesterday's failed attempt at fusion. His mind kept replaying the monstrous construct they had created—its twisted limbs of chain and sword, its screaming presence, more nightmare than weapon. He woke with sweat clinging to his brow, as though the thing still breathed somewhere in the dark corners of his imagination.
When he entered the training hall, Alice was already there. She stood perfectly poised, her hair tied back, eyes sharp as she swung her practice sword in deliberate arcs. Each cut was precise, measured—like strokes of a brush painting the air. Kaison lingered by the doorway for a moment, watching. She didn't notice him at first, or perhaps pretended not to. Alice always had that air about her—distant, untouchable, as though she stood on some higher ground that the rest of them couldn't reach.
"You're late," she said finally, lowering her blade.
Kaison scowled. "I'm right on time."
"For training, perhaps," she said, wiping her forehead with a cloth, "but you're late in discipline. If you had risen earlier, you might have practiced before this."
He wanted to retort, but Benson's arrival silenced him. The instructor's heavy steps echoed against the metal-plated floor as he carried in two thick tomes, his face expressionless as ever. He set them down with a thud that sent a puff of dust into the morning air.
"Today," Benson began, "we address what you failed to grasp yesterday. Fusion is not brute force. It is not a contest of power. It is imagination—two visions forced to coexist on the same battlefield."
Alice crossed her arms, but Kaison could see her shoulders stiffen at the reminder of their failure.
Benson's eyes swept over both of them. "Think of it this way: each of you carries a brush. The canvas is the Seal's spiritual plane. If you both try to paint your own picture without regard for the other, what emerges is chaos. Abomination. Yesterday proved that."
Kaison grimaced. He didn't need reminding.
"Your task," Benson continued, "is to imagine something together. A single construct born of two minds, not two clashing wills. I care not what it is—weapon, shield, beast, or form—but it must reflect unity. Begin."
He stepped back, arms folded.
Alice glanced at Kaison, her eyes narrowed like she was appraising a faulty sword. "Fine. Let's try something simple. A weapon. We both understand weapons."
Kaison nodded reluctantly. They moved to the center of the hall.
Alice closed her eyes first, her voice low and commanding. "Imagine a blade. Long, balanced, radiant. A sword worthy of judgment."
Kaison clenched his fists, the faint glow of his chains already whispering around him. His mind conjured something different—links of black steel weaving into a shield, unyielding, protective.
The seals on their arms flared in unison, chains rattling against spectral steel. For a moment, something took form in the air between them: a glimmering weapon wrapped in chains, half sword, half shield.
But the construct shuddered violently, sparks spitting off as the chains constricted around the blade. The sword bent, the shield fractured. Their breaths quickened as they struggled to hold it steady, their imaginations pulling in opposite directions.
"Stabilize!" Alice hissed.
"You're trying to control it!" Kaison shouted back.
"I'm trying to make it usable!"
The construct shrieked like breaking glass before exploding into shards of light. Both of them stumbled backward, panting.
Benson shook his head slowly. "Again."
Kaison wiped sweat from his face. His chest felt tight, not from the exertion, but from the pressure of Alice's gaze. She looked at him as if he were the weak link, the reason for their failure.
"You don't focus," she said coldly. "Your imagination is undisciplined. You picture chains wrapping around everything, binding, smothering. That's why the fusion collapses."
"And you," Kaison shot back, "are so obsessed with control that nothing can breathe around you. You don't leave space for anyone else. You want it all your way."
For the first time, her expression cracked, eyes flashing with indignation. "Better control than chaos."
"Better freedom than a cage," he snapped.
The tension between them was palpable, like the air before a storm.
Benson's voice cut through it, calm but sharp. "You both fail because you refuse to see beyond yourselves. Fusion is not dominance. It is not about one vision consuming the other. It is collaboration. Until you understand each other, you will never create more than monsters."
He snapped the tome shut. "Enough for now. Training is not only what happens in this hall. Fusion requires trust, and trust requires knowledge. You will not return here until you have learned something of each other beyond what your eyes see."
Alice stiffened. "You're saying—"
"I am saying," Benson interrupted, "that you will spend time together outside these walls. Observe. Speak. Share. Learn. Otherwise, your seals will never sing the same song."
Kaison frowned, uneasy. Spending more time with Alice sounded like punishment, not training. But Benson's gaze brooked no argument.
"Dismissed."
---
The sun had climbed higher by the time they left the hall, its light glinting off the academy's ironwork spires. Alice walked ahead, posture perfect, steps measured. Kaison followed at a short distance, scowling at the ground. He hated how she always seemed untouchable, as though nothing ever rattled her.
"You don't have to act like you're above everyone," he muttered.
Alice glanced over her shoulder, her expression calm but sharp as a blade's edge. "And you don't have to act like discipline is a cage. If you learned to control yourself, perhaps fusion wouldn't collapse."
Kaison bristled. "And if you weren't so stiff, maybe you'd see there's more than one way to fight."
For a while, they walked in silence, the tension between them hanging heavy. Yet beneath the frustration, something else stirred in Kaison. Curiosity. She was infuriating, yes, but also… driven. He wondered what weight she carried to make her so unyielding.
They passed the academy gardens, where mechanical caretakers hummed softly as they trimmed hedges into perfect symmetry. Alice slowed her pace slightly, her gaze flicking to the flowers.
"My mother used to keep a garden," she said suddenly, voice quieter than before. "Roses. White ones. She said discipline was the only way to make beauty last."
Kaison blinked at her, caught off guard by the softness in her tone. He almost asked more, but she quickened her pace again, shutting the moment down.
That night, when Kaison lay in his dorm staring at the ceiling, Benson's words haunted him. *Fusion is not dominance. It is collaboration.*
He thought of Alice's roses. His chains. Her blade. His shield. Two visions clashing. Could they ever blend into one?
---
The next morning, they stood in the training hall again, facing one another with seals glowing faintly on their arms.
"Let's try again," Alice said.
Kaison nodded.
They closed their eyes, breathing in unison. This time, they spoke their visions aloud.
"A sword," Alice whispered, "sharp, radiant, unbending."
"A shield," Kaison murmured, "unyielding, protective, alive."
The seals flared, energy coursing through the air. Between them, light shimmered. A construct began to take shape—a sword with chains woven into its guard, a shield with a blade running along its edge. For a heartbeat, it held.
Then cracks spread across it, light splintering. Their wills clashed again, tugging in opposite directions. With a deafening snap, the construct shattered.
Kaison gasped for air. Alice's jaw was tight, her hands trembling slightly.
"Better," Benson said, stepping forward. "Not enough. But better. You are learning to paint on the same canvas, even if your strokes still fight each other. Continue. In time, you will either create harmony… or destroy yourselves trying."
Kaison met Alice's gaze across the shards of light. For the first time, he saw not arrogance in her eyes, but something else. Determination. Maybe even fear.
And he realized—fusion wasn't just about sealing power. It was about revealing the truths they tried hardest to hide.
---