The base was quiet.
Too quiet.
Sys stood in the center of the room, screens flickering around him.
Hope paced back and forth, her eyes red, her voice cracking.
"Three days, Sys. Three days. Why aren't we going yet?"
Her hands shook.
Her guitar strap was still on her shoulder, but she hadn't played a note since the abduction.
Tear marks streaked down her cheeks.
Corr rolled forward in her desk‑wheelchair, rubbing her eyes.
"Hope… Sys told me already. Calm down. I have to go finish my project."
She turned and rolled away, her voice trembling even though she tried to hide it.
Hope spun toward Sys.
"Tell me. Tell me why we're not moving. Tell me why we're just sitting here while they're—"
Sys lowered his head.
"I'm sorry. I haven't explained the full truth to you."
Hope froze.
Her eyes softened — sorrow, fear, and a desperate need to understand.
Sys continued.
"Will… is our greatest goal. And the truth of ourselves."
Hope blinked. "What does that even mean?"
Sys projected a glowing diagram of a human brain.
"The need for something — anything — pushes us forward. It all began with the indomitable will of humanity. When faced with death, some humans unlocked hysterical strength. Lifting cars. Surviving impossible odds."
Hope swallowed hard.
Sys went on.
"Eventually, humans learned to tap into that strength at will. That created the first melee specialists. But a hundred years later, a researcher named Alcatraz discovered something else."
The diagram expanded.
"He found a way to wrap the natural power of life around the brain… then expand it. And as the layer expanded, it grasped information along the way. That became the foundation of every ability we now call a *willed state*."
Hope whispered, "So… it's in us?"
Sys nodded.
"Over generations, humans absorbed this into their DNA. We no longer need equations or rituals. We do it instinctively. As any great mage would know—"
Sys's voice cut off.
Because far away, deep in the demon base…
William was receiving the same lesson.
But twisted.
The Imperfect Perfect Human stood before him, hands behind his back, eyes cold.
"As any great mage would know," he said softly, "expanding the bubble of energy in your mind increases your willed state."
William's breath shook.
He was exhausted.
He was angry.
He was drowning in self‑loathing.
The Imperfect Perfect Human stepped closer.
"Humans evolved this ability. But the animals outside the bubble of willed energy could not survive. So they changed. Adapted. Created their own bubbles."
William's vision blurred.
A hallucination formed — the Imperfect Perfect Human placing a hand on his head, whispering:
"Command."
Something inside William snapped.
A rumble echoed behind him.
Ed — his cloud lizard — uncurled from his shoulders.
But this time, Ed grew.
Clouds swirled around its neck.
Lightning flickered beneath its skin.
William climbed onto its back, eyes cold, jaw set.
The insect demon stepped forward, enlarging the insect‑beast it controlled.
Its mandibles clicked with anticipation.
"Level eight," it hissed. "Show me your will."
William raised his halberd.
"Ed," he whispered, "move."
The sky‑lizard surged upward, clouds forming beneath its feet.
William slashed, struck, and drove forward with ruthless precision — not graphic, but relentless.
The insect‑beast lunged.
William countered.
Ed spiraled upward, creating a vortex of cloud and wind.
William attacked again and again, each strike fueled by the storm inside him.
Finally, with one decisive blow, the beast fell.
Silence.
The insect demon watched him, mandibles twitching.
"…interesting."