In the earliest hours of a Monday in Guarly, four shadows leap from building to building, running in search of action. Each carries a wooden imitation sword. After finding no trouble, they stop on the roof of an office building. The four look down to scan for any possible criminals. Nothing unusual for one in the morning. One of them removes the yellow cloth that covered his mouth and nose.
Tyron: "Hey, am I the only one a little disappointed that after a week as vigilantes we've only stopped a car thief and one attempted getaway?"
At that moment the other three exchange looks. A few seconds pass and the girl wearing the dark-blue cloth removes hers.
Francesca: "What did you expect? It's not like things have improved much. After all, we go out from midnight until four in the morning. If we find something we have to wait for Mr. Welter to tell us whether we can act or not."
The girl with the light-blue cloth removes hers too, grinning broadly. "Well, you know—this is a way to test our skills." Hearing that, the other two sink in mood and sit, sighing heavily. The girl with the light-brown cloth looks down again, then sits, trembling slightly. She takes off what covered her mouth and nose and says, "Why do we have to be so high up?"
Francesca: "I'm surprised you didn't think of that while we were climbing." She loosens her wrist weights.
Tyron: "I think Emily ignores what she's doing a lot. Later she regrets it, hehe…" —and gets smacked.
Francesca (hitting Tyron on the head): "Leave her be. It's enough that the master already made us carry these heavy things."
Alexa (looking at the weights on her wrists): "It pisses me off, but I'm with you, blonde. With these things it's easy to feel limited."
Emily (trembling): "Yes. Remember she said they weigh ten kilos each. One last thing — how are we going to get down from here?"
The young people exchange glances. They realize the climb up was hard, but the descent will be absolutely risky. Their expressions change from tired to genuinely worried. The black-haired girl scans the edges of the windows and suddenly says, "I've got it. What do you think of this: we jump from ledge to ledge, getting as close as possible until we reach that parking area?" The blonde interrupts: "You say that easily, but I don't think Emily will handle looking down from an eighty-story building." The blue-eyed girl looks for another solution and, measuring a considerable distance that could be covered by a good jump, proposes, "Look—this is equally dangerous, but much faster…" The dark-skinned young man stands up, examines what must be done and exclaims, "If you realize it, we'd have to cover like two hundred meters in a single jump." The blonde promptly smacks him on the nape and replies, "Of course I know that. That's why it's not a direct jump; we must use the angle of incline."
The brown-haired and the black-haired pair exchange doubtful looks at the blonde's plan. Emily notices their hesitation and explains: "The angle of incline means that when we jump we must aim for a given height and direction."
After running the numbers, Francesca examines the challenge: descend from an eighty-story building to a sixty-story one in a single leap. Taking into account the distance to traverse, she announces, "To make it you must jump at a thirty-five degree angle; after that, just let yourself fall along the trajectory and you can land safely. Who goes first?" The girls quickly decide: the blonde points to the brown-haired young man, who can't help but protest.
Tyron: "Why do I have to go first?!"
The blonde turns his head to the required angle and answers while moving him, "You're the dumbest one here. If you follow everything I said and make it, the rest of us can."
Tyron (resigned): "So I'm the guinea pig."
Francesca (smiling): "Exactly. Jump about fifteen meters toward where I pointed, then just try to ride the fall."
Emily steps close to Francesca and whispers in her ear, "What happens if he doesn't make it?" Francesca looks at her seriously.
Francesca: "Both the master and the detective will have to explain to your parents why it was necessary to use a shovel to collect their child's body."
Tyron stares at the challenge for a second, swallows, and feels intimidated. After all, he must go from an eighty-story building to one twenty floors lower. Without letting doubt win, he jumps where his head is aimed. Once airborne, he has the duty to save his life. The fall is powerful; the wind grips him. Not letting fear overcome him, he watches the impact approach. At about ten meters from landing, instinct takes over. He touches down, though momentum drags him; he lacks the strength to stop immediately and skids to a halt centimeters from another catastrophic fall. He doesn't hesitate to look at what he's escaped. He blinks several times to believe it; then, seconds later, he turns to his companions and shouts with great excitement, "WUJUUU! Again!"
Hearing his yell, the blonde smiles and prepares to be next. Before that, she approaches the green-eyed girl, takes her by the shoulders, and whispers, "I should be last, but I don't get along with Emily that well. My words won't inspire her to make this leap of faith; you need a second jump to prove it wasn't luck. For that reason—though I dislike it—I entrust you with the responsibility of helping her succeed." Francesca takes her position without allowing doubt time to bloom. Adrenaline surges; she runs and hits the landing site. Upon touching down she closes her eyes and follows much of Tyron's trajectory. To bleed off leftover momentum, she leaps upward and spins, performing a pirouette in the middle of the roof that would make a dancer proud.
It looks like the young woman finally sheds the impulse; returning to the ground she can't hide the enormous smile on her face. Opening her eyes she sees her companion approach with an outstretched hand and shining eyes.
Tyron: "That was incredible—high five!"
Francesca lifts her hand hopefully. Tyron, noting she doesn't know the gesture, gently grabs her wrist and slaps palms. He signals the others to join.
Emily: "Okay… I'll be next."
Alexa looks at her coldly, then moves in and hugs her. "Emily… I know you must be very scared, but please trust us. Look at them." She points at her companions. "They'll be waiting for you. I know I've never lived your fears. And although last week we learned you were abused, and if it wasn't for the master maybe you wouldn't be here now… " She hears sobs.
Emily cries. In her mind she feels a faint warmth similar to the small comfort she felt when the master saved her.
Alexa: "…don't let the person who hurt you keep living in your fears. Please trust me—trust us—we are your… FRIENDS."
They separate. The brown-haired girl walks into position, takes her time, and allows no room for hesitation. She turns and gives her friend a beautiful smile, then jumps. Mid-trajectory she opens her eyes and sees the terrible drop; death seems imminent. She smiles. Images flash through her head—her younger self playing with a brown-haired girl, carrying her little sister with her father, the warrior, and finally her new friends. Emily lands perfectly. Tyron rushes to hug her, fearing she'd been hurt.
The blonde watches them embrace and, worried, approaches. Seeing the crying girl's face transform into an angelic smile, she joins the hug without a second thought. At that moment the three teenagers hear footsteps behind them. It's the black-haired girl asking, "Can I join?" Francesca feels like backing away, but she doesn't—she accepts the dark-haired girl for a moment, and the four finally strengthen their bond.
A new day begins in Guarly. At Forte, the brown-haired boy walks with his red-haired friend, arguing.
Tyron: "But quesadillas only have cheese—hence the name!"
Antonio: "Not exactly. They have cheese but other things too."
Tyron: "I don't get it. I need to learn more about Mexican food."
Antonio: "Since when are you so interested in Mexican food?"
Tyron: "Oh—forgot to say—my dad is taking the whole family to Chinga Tú Taco. I'm so excited."
Antonio: "I get you. My dad took my mom and me last Sunday."
Tyron: "Uh—what do you recommend?"
Antonio: "I'd say the chila—"
They pass Emily, who carries a huge stack of books. Tyron can't help offering to help, and she accepts. The three of them walk together chatting. Tyron stays quiet while the two friends start talking about math. He's surprised by how muscular the redhead has become, but keeps walking.
In another country, in a luxurious house, a thirteen-year-old girl with short hair dyed bright pink and purple streaks slams her door. "I don't care—I'll go back to Guarly with Mom even if you don't want me to!" The well-dressed girl, wearing dark colors and lip and ear piercings, walks to her nightstand and looks at a photo of two brown-haired girls playing and smiling. She whispers, "Maybe we'll see each other again, best friend."
Back in the forest that afternoon, the protagonists fight the warrior's clay clones while he watches calmly, sipping tea. The battles are even—the kids have clearly progressed. They put clones in check and the fights are powerful; the techniques are no longer just things they learned—they're part of each student. At one point Alexa feints a low attack and then finishes with a deep cut that decapitates her clone, earning first victory. Francesca times an attack on her clone's wooden sword, uses it as leverage, spins, and lands a guillotine kick that destroys her opponent for second place.
Tyron runs back, evading powerful strikes. Taking advantage of a foot sweep, he steps on the opponent's weapon and, with a twist, slices the clay clone in half—third victory. Emily maintains blocks against each heavy strike; when her opponent charges she sweeps the leg, knocks him down, and finishes with an elbow to the throat. The youths are panting, sweaty, and a little battered. The warrior finishes his cup of tea and says, "Very well. We're done for today. You may go."
Tyron: "Already? It's only—"
Alexa: "Five in the afternoon. Don't you have anything else to teach us?"
Jayden: "Of course I do, but you're fine for today. I'll give you more lessons tomorrow."
They collect their things and leave. Jayden closes his eyes for a moment, thinking: They've improved. Maybe I can skip some things and move on to something more complex. Perhaps I should put them to the test first with something… He opens his eyes, smiles faintly, and disappears in a gust of wind.
Several kilometers away, in the Waugt province, a bald man in yellow armor walks the corridors of an underground base. He asks a soldier, "Where is Sergeant Boris?" The soldier replies, "We found some students trying to confront an exploration group, so I sent them to the northern area." The man nods and, in a second, he's at that area. He walks calmly as distant screams of suffering echo; the clashing of metal sounds like music to the blue-eyed man. When he reaches the door where the screams came from, the cries sound now like streaming water. He puts his hand on the handle, quickly withdraws, and sees a body spill through the door, splattering blood everywhere. The apparently thirteen-year-old boy is full of small holes in both clothes and flesh.
The armored man enters the room, walking through spilled blood toward a pale, black-haired man standing bare-chested and barefoot, wearing pants and carrying several small metal boxes on his belt. The man holds an unusually wide katana—one edge bladed, the other weirdly toothed like thousands of teeth up to the hilt.
John: "Has he had fun, Sergeant?"
Boris bows. "General, I thought these disrespectful ones deserved punishment." He smiles.
John stares at his suit, stained with warm blood, and smiles. "Good. I have a mission."
Boris holsters his weapon. "Tell me what you need."
John: "The Director requested that a general take a sizable group and investigate what happened in some cities like Guarly, where the conquest has stalled."
Boris (military salute): "Understood. How many soldiers will be under my command?"
John dips his finger in the blood. "About fifty." He sucks the blood from his finger. "Weak."
The armored man leaves the sergeant in the room—though not before placing a boot on the corpse that stained the corridor and saying, "Make this clear, Sergeant: whoever interferes, kill them in the cruelest way possible so it serves as an example." He crushes the skull of the corpse with a single stomp.