Azoth Castle's kitchen bustled with the smell of fresh bread and eggs crackling on a cast-iron pan. Master Corbin, the royal cook, blinked in disbelief at the sight of Princess Blair herself sitting at a plain wooden table, biting into a honeyed crust.
—Never thought I'd see the day… —muttered the old cook, shaking his head—. The princess, eating in my kitchen like any commoner.
Blair smiled, amused.
—Food tastes better here than in the royal hall, Master Corbin.
Beside her, Asori devoured breakfast with unusual enthusiasm. For the first time in days, he looked calm—even cheerful.
—Master Corbin, your food is the best! —Asori said, savoring a meal made by a true chef.
Out of the corner of his mind, the image of Blair asleep, hugging him like a plush toy and breathing against his neck, drifted back. Warmth sparked in his chest, and a nostalgic smile crept in before he knew it.
The Sweet Kiss carried the thought. Blair, mid-bite, flushed scarlet.
—I-idiot! Stop thinking things like that! —she huffed, thumping the table.
—Huh? Thinking what? —Asori asked, baffled, mouth full.
Before the moment could boil over, a soft laugh cut in. Mikan dropped into a seat with a plate in hand, far too close to Asori.
—Aren't you two cute… the "lovebirds" having breakfast. —She propped her chin in her palm, all mischief—. Gonna kiss before dessert?
Blair shot to her feet, blazing red.
—What's it to you! Besides we're not—She paused, looking away nervously.
—Uh-huh, sure… —Mikan teased, spearing bits from Asori's plate like it was hers.
Asori sighed, resigned, and kept eating.
A crash shuddered through the castle. Crockery clattered, lamps chimed, and guards sprinted toward the central courtyard.
—What in the world was that? —Asori stood.
An electric pressure hummed through the halls, so thick even Mikan shivered.
—That power… —Blair whispered, eyes wide—. Jason.
She bolted for the courtyard, heart pounding. Asori and Mikan followed.
In the marble court, surrounded by shaken soldiers and servants, stood Jason Lokix—hair bristling with charge, eyes cold as steel. His presence alone pressed on the air.
Blair ran to him, smiling.
—Jason! You're finally back!
He barely looked at her, tipping his head. No warmth. His gaze slid to her… then to Asori. Between them, thanks to the crescent mark in one pupil, he saw it: the astral strand tethering their souls.
Blair went rigid.
—Jason…?
Asori watched from a short distance, still chewing his last bite of bread. Jason's aura was overwhelming, a storm ready to level anything in its path.
—So this was… the candidate for the Sweet Kiss, —Asori thought, swallowing—. The secret weapon against Zeknier—the one Blair was supposed to kiss…
Jason walked straight to Asori, ignoring Blair and Mikan. His voice was clipped, glacial.
—What exactly is your relationship with Blair?
Asori frowned.
—None of your business. Also, you sound ridiculously egocentric.
—Superior, I'd say —Jason answered, pride in his stare.
—Then maybe lower your tone —Asori shot back, steady.
—How low—down to your level? —Jason's voice went dangerous.
The air crackled. Blair tried to step between them.
—Jason, enough! This isn't your concern anymore… Things happened and—
But it was useless. Jason wasn't the same. His eyes were emptied out, as if his humanity had been erased.
—Fight me —he said, flat—. Now.
Asori stood without a flicker of doubt. White aura burst around him—he transformed in an instant, and for a heartbeat Jason looked surprised.
They moved to the castle pond, ringed by stone and trees trembling under the strain.
Eryndor arrived, voice raised.
—I will judge. Fight—but don't cross the line into senselessness.
They began. Asori charged with everything he had, flinging gusts and desperate rushes. But Jason was lightning: he slipped every blow with blinding speed.
Blair watched, heart tight. Jason was different—stronger, faster, colder.
Asori roared, unleashing all the rage and helplessness Lira had left behind. Jason slipped it all and, with a single kick, slammed him into the ground—knocking the transformation right out of him.
Asori lay there, gasping, defeated.
Blair rushed to help him up. Jason looked down like an implacable judge.
—This is the bearer of the Air Orb? Pathetic. Blair… you wasted the Sweet Kiss on someone like him. He'll die before everyone else. He won't protect anyone—least of all you.
He stepped closer, aura sizzling. Blair's teeth clenched; anger flared, power ready to ignite.
Eryndor cut in, hand raised.
—Enough, Jason. You've proved your strength. I won't let you harm my pupil further.
Jason held his gaze—then looked away.
—I need to speak with Tifa. The King of Donner sent word about the war.
He strode off, leaving a tense silence in his wake.
Mikan moved to help Blair steady Asori.
—He held back —she said, sober—. That guy's a monster.
Face twisted with rage and shame, Asori forced himself upright.
—It doesn't matter… —he panted—. This isn't over. Next time—he's eating those words.
Blair stared, startled by the spark in his eyes. The boy who always ran from war was now talking about answering blows. Her heart hammered.
Eryndor told Asori to rest; training would resume tomorrow so he could begin mastering the transformation.
That night, Blair and Mikan shared a room. Blair, still rattled and a little confused, stared at the ceiling.
—Jason… he was always important to me —she murmured—. But not how people think. Not love. More like… an older brother. And now… seeing him like that, so cold…
Mikan glanced over, a sly smile.
—Seems you've got another problem: the mountain brat. You sure he's "just a friend"? The way he went at Jason wasn't just "warrior pride."
Blair flushed.
—Of course! Asori's just my friend—someone I care for a lot. He's… special to me.
Mikan chuckled, getting comfortable.
—Whatever. Doesn't matter to me. Though I'll admit… you two look good together—cute pair. But don't get complacent; I could still steal him.
Blair rolled away, red to the ears.
Meanwhile, Asori stood with Eryndor—summoned to the courtyard where the breeze never ceased.
—You lost, boy. But you learned something precious: your emotions cloud your power.
—What do you mean, Master?
Eryndor turned, robes fluttering in the wind.
—If you want to survive the tournament, you must learn to transform—and fight—without letting your emotions rule you. In a week, I'll teach you a technique that could save your life.
—What technique?
The sage met his eyes.
—How to switch off your emotions.
Asori swallowed, unsure whether to fear it—or hope.