Saturday morning arrives. A slightly cold wind blows, shaking the treetops. Birds land in their nests beside their chicks. A deer lowers its head to the riverbank to drink—when suddenly an ice needle embeds itself in the ground right beside it. Startled, the animal bolts down a narrow path.
In the middle of a forest clearing, a clone of the warrior sits calmly while five targets fly through the air. One by one, the blonde girl shoots them down with perfect precision, each strike hitting the center. The adult stands, causing the targets to fall to the ground. The adolescent sheathes her katana, struggling to steady her heavy breathing.
The clone looks at her and says, "Impressive. Ten out of twelve is a very good number. You almost always hit the mark."
Francesca wipes the sweat from her forehead and replies, "It's simple. I have good aim thanks to tennis. The problem is the amount of Fiu I have—I can't fire many shots consecutively."
The clone glances up at the sky. "That may be so, but if you can place each of those needles exactly where you want, the thirty-four shots you can fire are a lethal weapon."
Francesca sighs and nods, but something still bothers her.
Why did Ty leave the park so happy the other day? she wonders. It probably has something to do with him asking the three of us to meet today in Kiryoku.
After a few minutes, she and the clone resume marksmanship training. This time, the targets move faster between the trees, deeper into the forest, forcing the girl to chase them with her sword drawn.
In another clearing, a brown-haired boy runs at over two hundred kilometers per hour—until he passes too close to a tree and tumbles across the grass, lucky that he had already slowed down. The clay-made adult drops from a tree branch.
"Ten seconds," the clone says. "That was very good—changing the internal nature of your muscular Fiu concentration."
The dark-skinned boy laughs shyly at the praise and scratches the back of his neck.
"How come it was easier to concentrate Fiu in my legs?"
The clone gives him an annoyed look.
"It's simple. Legs have more muscle than arms and are naturally accustomed to supporting the body's weight. More muscle means they can tolerate a greater concentration of energy."
The adolescent nods, rubbing his legs through the yellow fabric of his karategi pants as the numbness fades, leaving only a prickling sensation. The clone climbs back onto a branch.
Tyron takes his stance again, focusing the cold sensation into his legs, then shifting it into a faint electric tingling.
"Go!" the clone shouts.
The boy takes off down a nearby path, weaving between trees, surpassing his previous speed—now well over two hundred kilometers per hour. Suddenly, something strange happens: a target flies over his head. He looks up just in time to see an ice needle about to pierce his forehead. He ducks, narrowly avoiding it, and catches a glimpse of the blonde girl chasing her target.
Moments later, she crashes into a tree due to her lack of control at high speed.
The false Jayden shouts, "Three seconds is far too little! Again, brat!"
Rocks float in the air as the black-haired girl's face turns completely red. Veins bulge in her arms, showing how long she has been doing push-ups while keeping the rocks suspended above her. Her corresponding clone approaches with a faint smile and drops a twenty-kilogram weight onto her back.
"Is it really necessary for this training to be so extreme?" she groans as sweat drips to the ground.
"Sit-ups," the clone replies immediately.
She quickly shifts position, causing the floating objects to fall for a brief instant. She exhales sharply, increasing the Fiu output to lift them again.
The clone sits beside her and suddenly punches her in the face.
"Why was that?!" she protests.
With a murderous glare, he snaps, "How many times do I have to tell you not to exhale like that? This is to help you send Fiu faster. Many people make the mistake of training only arms and legs, which reduces our overall capability. That's why I force you to send a constant stream of energy through your back, then your chest—your mind must automate the response. Don't make the mistake of focusing only on your fist."
Training continues until an exhausted Alexa finally collapses, about to be crushed by the rocks and the weight—only for the clone to shove her clear of the impact zone.
The brown-haired girl leaps down from a branch, narrowly avoiding a downward slash. She blocks another rising strike aimed at her jaw, then rolls away from a third attacker. Three clones charge her at once, forcing her to tap the ground and raise a wall of earth for cover. It barely holds, but it gives her room.
She grips her weapon with both hands. The center opponent leaps with an overhead attack—she blocks it easily and follows with a straight right kick, pushing him back. A left side kick slams into another clone's chest while she deflects the third's strike. Switching her katana to her left hand, she touches the ground and releases a massive surge of Fiu, causing huge chunks of earth to erupt and pierce through her enemies' torsos, ending the fight.
Breathing heavily, Emily plants her sword in the ground and drops to one knee. The real warrior appears, seated on a tree branch.
"You've improved your Fiu control a lot," he says. "The downside is that working with the Dark side makes it harder to exploit, and it tires you much more than the other types."
She nods and struggles to stand, awaiting further orders. Jayden smiles slyly, thinking, You have willpower, girl. You've improved your energy control enough to move this fast after two hours—but it's still not enough to fully exploit the element tied to your Fiu.
"Rest," he says gently.
Emily collapses just as a floating target drifts into the clearing and is pierced cleanly through the center by an ice needle.
"I'm done," Francesca announces, sheathing her sword as Emily lies out cold.
"Well done," Jayden says, taking the target.
"Thank you, Master."
"Rest."
The blonde sits down, while the warrior watches the two girls and thinks, Just as I said—the universe is divided into fools and geniuses. Interesting to have two of each.
Midday arrives back at the cabin. The adolescents are surprised to find a basket laid out on a blanket beneath a tree. Jayden motions for them to sit while he heads inside. Alexa opens the basket, stunned to find sandwiches, fruit, a ceramic bowl of soup with noodles and meat, and small plates with cutlery and chopsticks.
Jayden emerges with his handleless cup and teapot, sits on the porch, pours himself tea, and says with closed eyes, "Eat."
Despite their doubts—his tea had been awful—they watch as Francesca digs in without hesitation, clearly enjoying it. Trusting her judgment, the others follow suit, savoring a hearty meal while the adult watches from afar, smiling faintly.
Full, they lie back on the blanket staring at the sky—except Francesca, who turns to Tyron.
"Ty, why do you want us to go to Kiryoku today?"
All eyes turn to him.
"I think I have a solution to the cube problem," he says.
Emily timidly asks, "Did you tell the Master? We're still here, after all… and you could explain it now."
Tyron laughs. "I haven't asked him yet. And… it's a bit hard to explain."
They exchange looks and nod. Francesca gestures toward Jayden, signaling that Tyron should ask permission first.
"Master," Tyron says nervously, standing. "I know this might irritate you, but could you answer something?"
"Say it quickly and simply," Jayden replies flatly.
"Can we leave early? I think I have a way to help the Oksilis—about the cube we took from the palace. I know it might be wrong, but—"
"That's fine," Jayden says, sipping his tea.
"WHAT?!" all four exclaim.
"Yes, you can leave early," Jayden continues. "Night will soon fall in the Oksilis city. You need to find a crucial piece of evidence to advance their case."
"You think there's something important there?" Francesca asks.
"I don't know," he replies. "But if there's even a small chance of helping an entire people, it's worth it."
Far away, in a desert isolated from civilization, stands a massive facility surrounded by metal fencing and barbed wire. Thousands of people in orange uniforms stand outside under the blazing sun, watched by guards atop towers.
Inside, two identical young men are escorted into an interrogation room, shackled to chairs across from a metal table and a one-way mirror. One of them, missing part of his tongue, shouts, "Why have you been dragging us here all week?! Stop messing with us, you sons of bitches!"
After fifteen minutes, a man enters—black-haired, pale-skinned, dressed in a gray suit.
"Hello," he says calmly. "My name is Detective Jason Naïr, from the city of Guarly."
The more talkative twin sneers. "How polite. Why don't you pull your head out of your ass and let us screw you?"
Jason ignores him, laying five photos on the table.
"Do you recognize any of these women?"
"What do we get out of it?" the twin scoffs.
"Nothing," Jason replies, glancing at the other. "Except a chance to reduce your sentence."
The photos show five women from Guarly. For a split second, the silent twin's eyes flick to the image of a brown-haired girl—then back to the mirror.
Jason closes the folder with a smile.
"Nothing. Your brother already told me everything."
"What?!" the loud twin shouts.
Jason rests a hand on the silent twin's shoulder and whispers, "I hope karma has been cruel to you. I know why you took a vow of silence—not repentance, but because you were raped… and it keeps happening."
He straightens, smiling coldly.
"I won't help you. I hope you suffer almost as much as the women you did this to."
Leaving the room, Jason checks the file once more.
So the witness to Marcelo Álvarez's last murder is here, he thinks—holding a photo of Emily Forcer from her ID card.
That afternoon in Guarly, the four teens sit by a window in Kiryoku. After several minutes, Francesca snaps, "Well? Where's your solution?"
Tyron nearly spits out his shake. "It's… taking a while."
Alexa frowns. "Is it a person? You didn't reveal your identity again, did you?"
"No!" he insists, sweating. "But—"
"What's your plan, Ty?" Emily presses.
He lowers his voice. "Fran said the cube might need more intelligence to decipher. That reminded me of something… the ten smartest students at Forte."
Francesca raises an eyebrow. "Are you calling us stupid?"
"No! I mean there are people even smarter who could help."
"But the 'top ten' are just rumors," Alexa says.
"Not entirely," Emily muses. "People say I'm the fifth smartest at school. But how would you convince someone like that to help?"
Tyron grins. "I wasn't planning to ask all ten. Just number one."
Before Francesca can protest further, a dark-skinned fifteen-year-old with a shaved head approaches.
"Hey, Ty. I came like you asked. What do you need?"
The girls recognize him—the former basketball captain.
Tyron smiles. "Captain, do you know where I can find Jex?"
The boy grimaces. "What did he do this time?"
Hours later, they reach an abandoned neighborhood and stop before a graffiti-covered warehouse. A camera activates above the door.
"What do you want?" a voice demands.
"We've come to propose a challenge," Tyron replies, touching the cube in his pocket.
The doors open, revealing a space packed with computers and experimental tech. A whistle draws their attention upward—to a pale boy with white hair and brown eyes, barefoot, wearing a black tank top.
"Hope it's interesting," he yawns. "Otherwise, get lost."
Francesca frowns, doubtful. This doesn't look like the smartest person in Forte.