Silence continued. The youths could tell their adversary was different from the other soldiers: more muscle, a straight back and an intimidating aura. Boris let out a small, friendly chuckle. "Very good! You handled all my men so quickly — you must be strong," he said, turning to look at his opponents with a smile. When he saw them closely, his expression turned to disappointment. "Kids? You beat all my soldiers… kids?" Plata stepped forward, worried. "What makes you think we're children?" she asked. With a weary look he slung his sword over his left shoulder and proclaimed, "You're not dwarves, so you're brats… whatever. I'll kill you anyway."
Boris charged the teenagers, preparing a low cut to the waist. The yellow-clad boy jumped and delivered a downward slash; the clash of metal echoed. The brown-haired boy was surprised that his opponent could match the force of his one-handed attack. Taking advantage of being mid-air, he threw a semicircular kick with his right leg that hit the enemy's face and moved it — but the man smiled without losing strength.
"Nice hit, but you'll need more than that," Boris said with a smile as he grabbed Tyron by the ankle.
Using his right hand, the soldier easily threw the teenager to one side, and while he was still in the air he released the ankle and kicked him hard in the center of the chest. At that moment the girl in blue and the one in light-blue sprang into action. The dark-haired girl attacked from behind with a quick cut at the back of his legs. The opponent saw her and executed a skilled hand-switch with his sword to the right, leapt to avoid the cuts and spun in the air to throw a slashing blow toward her head. The girl barely reacted in time, ducking and sliding aside together with her companion, who changed her stab to block the enemy's attack. The blow had such force that, despite a good posture, it made her step back. Meanwhile Tyron had little air after that hit and was falling out of the building, but he was saved by his brown-clad friend. He nodded in thanks while catching his breath.
The two girls pulled away from their opponent. The blue-clad one stood forward with the left foot ahead, sword pointing upward with both hands at shoulder height. The light-blue-clad held her sword in her right hand while hiding her left hand raised behind her partner. The blonde jumped forward, revealing the wind sphere Alexa had created; she fired it straight at the enemy's abdomen. He stepped to his right and let the orb pass with a confident expression, but just then a glint of sun to his left signaled a direct cut to his forehead. He immediately raised his weapon and clanged metal. The sergeant maintained his strength, which allowed Alexa to get close and prepare a shallow incision to the abdomen. He noticed his other opponent and instantly retreated, sliding right so the two girls ended up with their backs to him. He ran in before they could react, placing his left arm between their heads, punched the dark-haired girl and elbowed the blonde directly in the ear.
Alexa was forced to fall back while blocking Boris's powerful attacks. She barely managed to block everything effectively, and in a bold attempt to escape and recover she slid left — but her enemy took advantage and inflicted a very small but deep cut. The girl lowered her guard, stumbled and cupped the bleeding wound on her right shoulder. Boris seized the moment, raised his weapon and prepared a powerful blow to decapitate Alexa. At the same time Francesca heard a loud ringing in her ears. Though she could not steady herself, she ran at the soldier to land a new stab. He noticed and halted his attack on the light-blue girl, switching his sword to his left hand. He blocked the blonde's strike, then grabbed her by the back of the head and slammed the girl's face into his knee a couple of times before grabbing the top of her back and throwing her to one side.
Francesca managed to keep a fairly even exchange of blows while the ringing faded. When she blocked a direct cut to her head, Boris hit her hard in the stomach, leaving her breathless and weaker. The enemy's blade passed through her guard; the blonde saw the metal approaching her head in slow motion. The ringing stopped. A shout rang out from the left: "Hey, idiot!" The sergeant turned to see the yellow-clad boy running at him, and launched a side slash. Tyron ducked to avoid it. The light-blue girl saw an opening and with all her strength landed a huge right blow to the enemy's groin. The brown-haired boy jumped and struck a lateral kick to the chest. The opponent rolled, quickly rose with his sword held low in front of him, right hand behind the unsharpened part and left knee supporting.
"Can she keep going?" Tyron asked, offering Francesca his hand.
"Yeah," she panted. "We have to take advantage while he's weak."
"I hope you enjoyed what you did, because we're your collectors — and we come with a lot of interest!" Tyron joked.
Francesca raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing? Attack!" she barked.
The two youths charged Boris. The man considered the situation — the pain in his groin still fresh — and took his sword with both hands. The two vigilantes launched a straight slash to his head; he blocked from below. They used that to deliver two direct kicks to his chest. The enemy's force dipped and he broke the guard, rolling backward in an instant. The teens didn't hesitate and continued the assault. With few options left, he slashed the ground; they avoided it by jumping, and the yellow-clad boy's lateral kick landed on his mouth, leaving him prone on the ground with his weapon only held by his right hand. The blue-clad girl fell on top of that hand, crushing the wrist, while Tyron struck a direct attack to Boris's shoulder.
Boris felt his genitals stop hurting and smiled. With a surprise rise he blocked the brown-haired boy's cut by grabbing the katana's hilt. With a hip turn he shoved the boy back, yanked the blonde by her hair without even removing her hood to free the hand that held his weapon, and quickly struck Francesca's throat with the edge of his left hand. The adolescent fell to her knees, coughing violently. The sergeant kicked her in the head and she slammed against the platform. The man prepared to impale her with his sword when the brown-haired boy released a low slash to his waist. The sergeant stopped his attack and began a metal clash with the boy. Meanwhile Alexa feared her wound might be deep enough to die from blood loss. Emily rushed to help; seeing the blood she paled but, swallowing her revulsion and fear, took off her gray hood to wrap the wound. She extended her hand to Alexa, who accepted without hesitation and used her right arm and sword to test whether the injury limited movement. Seeing no immediate problem, she tied her hair into a ponytail and both girls launched to assist their teammates.
Tyron fought with great difficulty, keeping the duel even but clearly suffering. The difference wasn't only in strength: his opponent's sword was much heavier, and by sheer weight Tyron risked losing. He couldn't give up and kept repeating to himself that he could do it. He cast a quick glance at the blonde rising behind him — and that glance was enough for Boris to deliver a crushing knee to his belly. Tyron felt like he was going to vomit; his strength waned and the soldier prepared to cut him in half. A powerful clash of metal resounded; the concrete of the heliport cracked. Tyron was surprised to see Emily have moved back in the blink of an eye and perfectly block the enemy's attack. Boris noticed with astonishment; before he could react he saw a shadow over him and received a strong kick to the chin that lifted him slightly. He used the momentum to escape; the strike caused a bad landing, but he rose again and assaulted the girls, swinging a low slash at the brunette's neck. Their swords clashed; he didn't budge an inch, like a mountain. To his right, the light-blue girl launched a thrust, and he retreated again. Observing his rivals he thought, That technique, the posture and even the way she holds the katana — it's definitely Védelem, but something about her is off... Before he could finish the thought, the dark-haired girl charged with a thrust. He dodged, slid right, stepped toward her and delivered a heavy knee to Alexa's stomach before trying to finish her with a blow behind the neck.
"You're interesting brats," Boris told Emily. "Who's the idiot training you? They must be very abnormal to teach everyone different things."
"Give up and surrender," Emily said sharply. "We already beat your men. You're alone now; the police will be here any minute and you'll be powerless."
Boris smiled. "You haven't had many battles. Look around — your friends are hurt and barely standing. It's been you two against me the whole time. You should surrender."
Wind blew and silence reclaimed the battlefield until the sergeant sighed and ran at the brunette. She saw him thrust; she dodged. Using the momentum of his failed attack he made a low slash to the waist. She noticed and clashed sword tips, lifting the weapons. Boris smiled, letting his left hand hold the blade while with the other he struck directly to the face. Emily crouched, moved behind him and put distance between them. He hesitated, lowering his weapon, then laughed. "Haha, I get it. You're just a shield. You don't attack like the blue, the yellow or the light-blue. They wouldn't have wasted that opportunity. You lost a shield — a shield can't beat a sword; a good sword always breaks any shield!" Boris ran at Plata, raising his sword with his right hand. The girl blocked easily, but that was his plan: he struck her face several times with his left fist and blood flowed from her nose. She stepped back and blocked a low cut toward her neck, only to receive a kick to the stomach. He dragged her head down leaving her neck exposed to be decapitated; she avoided the strike with a daring move, placing her sword across her back. Remember, Emily: if you have the courage to strike, strike without mercy! She forced the enemy's weapon away and delivered a lateral kick that sent him one meter into the air.
Tyron and Alexa nodded to each other and lunged. The boy spun to gain momentum; the girl raised her right leg up to her shoulder while he did the same, and at the same time their heels struck the opponent, sending him flying over the edge of the heliport. A blue shadow arrived in time and landed an elbow to the soldier's stomach and left him prone. The four regrouped, maintaining the basic stances of their determined style. After a few seconds in which he didn't move, the brown-haired boy asked uncertainly, "Did we win?" The soldier's laughter sounded; he sprang up cracking his neck. "Damn, you're skilled! Whoever taught you must be at least a Grand Master. Now come — let's see what you can do." The four threw themselves into combat. Tyron released a semicircular kick with his right leg; Boris easily stopped it with his left hand while keeping his blade pointed downward. With a hip turn he threw the boy into the dark-haired girl to prevent her from jumping. He spun and launched a low cut aimed at Emily's head; she blocked, letting the blonde come close enough with a falling slash. Faster, he stopped the attack by holding the katana's hilt. Alexa rose and formed a wind sphere, firing it at him; the sergeant smiled and, without effort, kicked the blonde in the belly, sending her into the sphere and using the momentum to strike the brunette's neck laterally, then continued attacking with the blade. Francesca, hit in the back by her partner's technique, was thrown toward the enemy and he grabbed her by the left arm, slamming her to the ground and forcing Emily to kneel for lack of air. Then he struck her face. A double flying kick from the yellow-clad boy landed. Emily blocked an attempted circumcision by Alexa and began raining hundreds of attacks to keep the soldier defensive. The brown-haired man used the opening to land a semicircular right kick to the belly, making him retreat. The group reunited and Topacio led the next clash: swords met; the boy ducked shouting "Go!" A wind sphere hit the soldier's face and sent him to the edge of the heliport, and before that the boy landed a kick to his chin.
"Why didn't you use that air thing to cut his head off?" Tyron asked, lying on the ground.
"You could see it from below," Alexa replied, extending her hand. "So I can only use the wind sphere that's less visible."
"Do you think we can beat him?" Tyron asked, taking Alexa's hand.
"I don't know," she answered gravely.
Boris rose again and charged, attacking with a right lateral kick; they dodged to the side, but he used the movement to slam the same leg into both of their heads. He sheathed his sword to seize Tyron's back with both hands and tried to crush Alexa beneath him. They were left lying one on top of the other. The sergeant drew his blade again to impale them when a cut came from the side; he blocked, surprised to find it was Emily, who held a strong clash. She suddenly pivoted into a position to launch a lateral kick as a feint so Francesca could leap onto the brunette and smash a powerful blow to his chin. Before he could react he blocked another attempt by Plata, holding his weapon in the right hand, and smiled. "You can't beat me. I'm stronger, more experienced and more skilled. You have nothing to gain!"
"Of course we do!" Tyron shouted, running with his sword aimed at the ground. "Emily, get out!"
She jumped back, did a pirouette and landed in the Védelem basic stance. The soldier recognized the technique and stepped back, surprised. Tyron executed a cut from the right waist to the left shoulder; Boris saw threads of his vest cut. The next slice went from the left waist to the right shoulder, using all momentum to slash through the sergeant's kevlar vest and even cut a two-centimeter wound in his left pectoral. Thinking he had avoided death, the adult grew worried when he saw the boy take another step, shift his weight onto his left leg, and unleash an elbow that the sergeant barely covered with his arm. Boris looked angrily at the teen and noticed his right arm trembling. How does he know how to modify techniques? He wiped at the small wound with irritation and cursed, "Who was the demon that—?!" At that moment two kicks landed on his torso from Alexa and Francesca. The dark-haired girl executed a lateral cut to his neck; he blocked and fell into a trap as she swept him, sending him airborne. The blonde gently glowed her palm and struck his ribcage, marking his silhouette against the heliport. The three teens stepped back to where Emily stood and took up their basic stances.
Boris knelt and spat blood. He felt anger. They use heavy techniques, Fiu, and each has a different style. Who could've trained them like this?… Oh shit… their clothes are identical to… In that instant images of four men came to his mind. He slapped his forehead. I'm dead — they're students of the Barrier of Power! He thought, then reconsidered: On second thought, I have the chance to kill the students of that Barrier. He rose and pointed his sword with his right hand. The young fighters watched him; suddenly he wore a confident smile and pressed the pommel. The teens saw a small nozzle open on the weapon. Emily stepped in front of the group, shielding them from some reflective flashes, not realizing what she was stopping — until something lodged in Tyron's shoulder. Seeing it, Alexa knew it was dangerous and leaped behind the enemy to make a shallow but wide wound in his lower back. The soldier reacted and launched a low slash, but the girl dodged. Looking back he saw the others were gone. He opened the hilt of his sword and ejected an empty small magazine. He then opened a small box on his belt and inserted a small tube into the weapon.
The youngsters hid beneath the heliport. Alexa handed Francesca a small sewing needle; the girl caught it easily and held it up to Emily. "So that's what he shot at us?" Francesca asked. The brunette nodded, a few drops of blood falling from her forehead. Tyron pulled off his hood to stop the bleeding. Alexa asked, "Are they normal sewing needles?" Emily replied, "Yes, but that sword is modified to fire them at the rate of a machine gun. Being such tiny projectiles…"
"…there are many in one round, hard to dodge or block, and they could pierce our brains and kill us without us noticing," Francesca finished, looking at Emily with severity. "Why did you do that? You put your life in danger."
"Sorry — it was too fast for you to react," Emily answered.
"We have to find a way to beat that, otherwise we can't win," Tyron said, pressing his hood to Emily's forehead.
Boris leapt from the heliport and began a new volley of needles. Alexa immediately formed an air sphere and hurled it so the needles spun in it before continuing their path. Tyron helped Emily get out and tossed his bloodied hood in the sergeant's face to momentarily blind him, allowing them to hide again. Behind the building's entrance, Francesca whispered, "Emily — can you survive and withstand that once more?" The brunette answered, "I think at least two more times. It's exhausting to protect myself and you at the same time." The blonde looked at Alexa. "Why didn't your technique deflect them?" The girl thought a moment and replied, "He's probably using his Fiu to create a path for the needles. If he infused Fiu into them so they would follow us, we couldn't stay still. These things won't stop unless you dodge them, block them, or they hit their target." Alexa collected the information and thought about how to use Emily's ability to block the needles.
"Okay, I've got it," Francesca said. "Emi, you'll have to endure another needle storm, but only covering yourself. Wind and I will jump to the sides to draw his attention. Ty — being the fastest, use our distraction to get close enough to use your strong technique."
They all agreed.
Boris leaped again onto the heliport and saw only the brunette, so he laughed, thinking the others were close and imagining killing her. He pressed the pommel and unleashed a ferocious needle storm at the girl. She breathed deeply, concentrated fully and managed to block and dodge. The blonde and the dark-haired girl leapt from the sides, and the soldier fixed them as new targets while the brown-clad boy hid behind his companion. Both girls concentrated Fiu in their palms as they approached the enemy. He noticed and stopped firing, pressing the pommel again. Expecting the nearest two, he waited — but they suddenly jumped back, leaving Tyron to approach. The sergeant, not worried, pointed his sword at him and pressed the pommel to start a close-range volley. The boy could not dodge and seemed to accept death. Francesca, seeing her partner in danger, ran to save him. Up close she jumped and you could hear needles pierce flesh. Tyron fell to one side without a single wound; the volley stopped as the blonde dropped to her knees. Boris couldn't finish her because Alexa delivered a light cut to his belly. The boy caught his falling friend and saw he had no vital wounds, but his right shoulder was stained red — thousands of holes that showed small parts of bone.
"Calm down — you'll be okay," Tyron said with tears in his eyes.
"I can't move my arm," Francesca replied.
"What do we do now?" Tyron asked, supporting Francesca to stand.
"We keep fighting," she said confidently.
"Are you crazy? You're badly hurt," Tyron snapped.
Francesca looked him in the eyes. "So? Remember the warrior's confidence — we must have it now. Don't underestimate me: I can do my heavy technique with one hand." Those words, with eyes deep as the clear sky, made the dark-skinned boy trust his friend. They both rushed to help Alexa, who was trading skillful blows with Boris, who looked tired after taking multiple small cuts. Emily joined the fight, sliding her blade with the unsharpened edge along his katana and with a strong tug disarmed the enemy. Alexa jumped and made a light incision on the back of his legs, then did the same on his shoulders while he was airborne, finished with the inner arms, and spun to kick him aside with a left lateral kick. Boris retreated in pain. Tyron applied his strong technique modestly, causing very noticeable "X"-shaped wounds on the enemy's torso. Francesca stabbed the adult's left shoulder; with him pressing, she rotated her sword sideways to pull it out, leaving a wound exposing bone. The youths watched their rival smile, spit blood and then fall on his back on the platform.
"Is it over?" Tyron asked with a smile.
"It looks that way," Emily answered seriously.
Tyron pushed Boris's sword to the edge of the heliport. "Ha…", he covered his stomach. "Okay, this will hurt tomorrow," he tried to breathe in and out.
Francesca spat blood. "I think that's it," she said, falling to her knees.
"She's losing a lot of blood! We must help her!" Emily said, concerned.
Alexa took off her hood and scarf. "Let me cover the wound. Good thing Forte doesn't teach basic first aid — just hold on until we can see the master," she said.
"Don't tell me what to do," Francesca replied, dry.
"It's good to know you're still the same, Fran," Emily smiled.
While this was happening, Boris reached into his belt and pulled out a walkie-talkie. Putting it to his mouth in a very low tone he said, "Those who… prevent the conquest of Guarly… are new students of Jayden Damnare." He threw the radio off the platform. Seeing that the adolescents had let their guard down and weren't paying attention, he began to crawl toward his sword. When the four stood up at the sound of footsteps on the stairs, he stabbed his sword into the deck to help himself up and hissed. Everyone was surprised he could still stand, but he had no strength left; he used the maximum of his own weight to aim his weapon backward at them. They attempted to draw their blades, but the rest had only made the pain from the hits more evident as the adrenaline wore off.
"They're… strong… together," Boris said, smiling while holding his weapon with both hands. With his remaining energy he staggered and collapsed backward with a smile. Emily tried to reach him but couldn't in time; Boris fell from the building. Feeling the strong wind surround him, he uttered among his last words, "It's… a shame… you're marked…" The crowd gasped as another body crashed onto the pavement. People approached the so-called terrorist's corpse smiling. People looked toward the summit thinking "the police saved the day." On the last two steps, Matias managed to open the door to help the young people. He climbed to the heliport and looked around the platform; all that remained was a faint gust of air. He sighed, holstered his pistol, and contemplated the beauty of his shining city.
The adolescents realized they were in the forest; they smiled to see they no longer bore wounds, though some residual soreness lingered. They were surprised to notice the blonde was not among them. A cry of pain came from the cabin. They ran to see what had happened. Inside they found their companion lying on the sofa while Jayden used tweezers to remove needles from her shoulder. She wept from the pain. A few minutes passed; when he removed the last sewing needle he healed Francesca. She immediately sat up and moved her right arm a little. The warrior motioned for the others to leave. They didn't understand why, but they left the room. The girl looked the man in the eye and he said in a cold tone, "You were lucky this time."
"Yes. I know if you hadn't arrived in time I would've died," Francesca said.
"That's not what I mean," Jayden replied. "You mustn't think my healing can fix everything instantly. Some things, even with Fiu, need time for full recovery."
"What do you mean?" she asked, surprised.
He sighed. "These needles broke some of your bones. With my technique I can make it seem like it never happened, but that doesn't mean I removed the bone fragments embedded in your flesh. I removed everything just now and found a small piece of bone that almost lodged in your nervous system."
"Can you heal everything with that thing you do?" she asked.
"Even with Fiu," Jayden said, "some things need time — a week, a month or even a year. Since I know your passion for tennis, I must warn you: choose carefully. Following this path with your companions risks another dream of yours."
"Master, we've gone through similar things before and you never told me—" Francesca began.
"Was this the same as the others?" Jayden interrupted, standing. "Obviously not. This involved many risks."
"And yet we made it through," she said, getting to her feet.
"If I hadn't brought you here," he replied walking to the door, "do you know what they'd be doing now?"
She looked at her companions. "I can only suppose…"
"They'd be mourning your death," he said firmly. "I've seen this before. They wouldn't have made it in time. I'm not telling you to decide now, but keep that in mind when you make your real choice. Now go to the others — I have things to say."
The four adolescents lined up in front of their master, who already wore his blue Chinese robe with red and gold trim. The man looked at them sternly, breathed deeply and said, "Today you faced an enemy who outnumbered you, who exceeded you in skill and strength, who had everything in his favor. You even risked exposing your identities and yet… you won. I'm proud of you, my dear students." The brown-haired boy poked the dark-haired girl's shoulder and whispered, "You call us 'dear' after giving us a beating an hour ago?" He felt something hot on his forehead. Turning his gaze back, he met the warrior's murderous glare and relaxed when the look faded. The man whistled; noises came from the cabin. "I think it's time to make it official," he said tiredly.
A small camera hovered behind the youths. They all looked at the adult, uncertain about what would happen. He said, in a tired tone, "Smile — it's a photo," arranging his hands behind his back and putting on his most serious face. The four huddled and posed; three smiled, except the blonde. The camera made odd sounds that made Tyron nudge his friend's cheek to coax a smile. She slapped his hand and, looking him in the eyes, forced a smile. The photograph immediately printed and landed in the warrior's hands.
"Will we train today?" Alexa sighed.
"No — go and rest. I'll see you tomorrow. Your parents must want to hug you," Jayden replied.
Emily searched for her phone in her suit pocket. "I should see if my dad has already received medical care," she said. That reminded the others they must have worried messages. But when they checked their phones they were pierced by needles. Panic rose as they imagined the punishment awaiting them. Jayden walked tiredly into his cabin and emerged with four gray casings bearing a spiral symbol on the back. "Remove the needles and use these," he said. The youths accepted with some distrust. Suddenly their phones recovered immediately, now with the same spiral brand at the top and small golden tubes on the sides.
"Relax — they're the same. Use the mimicry app to make them look normal," Jayden told them.
Their passwords were the same as always, but their mobiles now had fifteen apps they'd never heard of. When they opened the mimicry app their devices changed back to their original appearance. The four boarded the bus tiredly and sat apart: Alexa and Emily in the middle-left seats and Francesca with Tyron in the rear-right seats. The two girls talked about Camila's smile with her bandaged father; the brunette felt a little depressed thinking she could have saved her enemy's life. As if reading her mind, the dark-haired girl said, "You couldn't have done anything. To help him he chose to keep fighting." Francesca shed a tear and hugged her friend. "Thanks for coming back," they said, making one another cry. Meanwhile, Tyron examined the new apps while his companion watched the sky from the window, contemplating the warrior's words. A laugh from his friend brought her back to reality. The boy thought of memories and the new ties forged on the path of danger; a warm feeling rose in his chest and he smiled inwardly, thinking, Maybe the decision won't be so hard, haha.
Tyron kept looking at a meme Gregorio had sent. He glanced at his companion's beauty and normally would have tried to take a photo, but he strangely didn't want to. A small warmth rose to his cheeks and he blushed. She turned and saw him, surprised. "Are you okay?" she asked. For the first time he didn't know how to answer; he even smacked himself a few times, which made her raise an eyebrow. "I guess I won't have to hit you again — I'm worried you're losing your brain," she teased. That made him happy until he realized she'd called him an idiot, and their teasing devolved into laughter.
At sunset in the cabin, Jayden polished the glass of four photo frames. He looked at the first and thought aloud, Master, Agatha and Master Julia. He hung the frame with the boy and girl next to the two adults. He took the next frame of the four adolescents: a curly blond, pale skin, sky-blue eyes and a great smile. He pictured the largest, strongest one with white hair and arms crossed, smiling confidently; the short black-haired girl with a braid and freckles and pale skin; and finally the red-haired bronze-skinned youth with beautiful reddish pupils and a faint blush. He paused after cleaning and read the back of the frame: First Generation. He placed it and whispered, "Dwayne, Carlos, Yoana and Andrew," as a tear fell from his left eye.
He picked up the next frame and smiled at the brunette, a big, muscular, black-haired boy with yellow eyes. Seeing his only comrade he couldn't help a small laugh at the contrast in personalities between that friend and the pale, dark-brown-haired young man who ignored the world with headphones. The back read Second Generation. Finally he placed a new frame labeled Third Generation. Jayden sighed and said, "Francesca, Emily, Alexa and Tyron," and vanished into thought.
In the director's ship, millions trained and ships landed heading to the command center. Armored figures walked back and forth while the pale Director in a white Chinese robe watched the sunset with blue eyes. The armored man with a hood said, "It seems we'll have to defeat a Barrier."
"Are you an idiot?" someone named Faint shouted. "Any Barrier is the strongest in power, skill and technique! They're the strongest beings in the universe today!"
The armored men couldn't fully draw their sabers when a huge gust of wind entered, spinning the leader's chair. In a modern, walled city of metal, Valeria walked near a window and then vanished. The Director and Valeria appeared kneeling in the forest. They saw Jayden and bowed, saying, "Oh great Barrier of Power, grant us strength!" The warrior looked at them tiredly. "I'm not here to kill you," he said. "I'm here because both of you will go to war against my current students, and you must know this."
"What is it, oh great Barrier?" both asked.
"Each one of my students has three times they can say my full name to make me defeat whatever tries to kill them," Jayden said. "Decide when to use it carefully, because once they call me I won't hold back, even against an army."
The two leaders nodded. The warrior signaled them to leave and walked deeper into the forest, following the river to a small clearing where a gigantic tree stood. He sat on his knees beside two graves, bowed and shed a few tears. "Carlos, Yoana," he said out loud. From a branch someone laughed and a figure descended. Jayden straightened, wiped his face and the presence fell wrapped in black rags. The hood hid the face except for red pupils. A clash of energies filled the air and the two glanced at each other as heat and pressure snapped branches.
"What are you doing here?" Jayden asked angrily.
"Nothing. I just wanted to see you. It's interesting that you have new students," the figure replied.
"Leave," Jayden snapped.
The shadow smiled with a broad white grin visible through the darkness and red, unsettling eyes. In a blink the figure and the warrior closed in. Jayden struck the shadow's stomach; the shadow stopped it. The impact was so great that even clouds seemed to part above them.
"What kind of greeting is that?" the shadow asked with a smile.
"Get out, or only your ashes will stain my students' resting place with your disgusting presence!" Jayden roared.
"A little stain is enough for me," the shadow said with a smile.
In a flash the figure stepped away. They turned their backs to each other and the figure waved from the path, saying, "See you later, cousin." The warrior sighed and the pressure vanished. He then returned to bow before the graves.