Just then, the lounge entrance door slid open silently, like a theater curtain. And inside stepped the two harbingers of the new order, at the same time.
The one on the left was Syla. She was far more impressive than what Robert had seen in the profile picture. Her long, platinum-blonde hair was gathered in an intricate braid decorated with crystal beads, reaching the middle of her back. Her armor, looking as if it were made of polished moonstone, shimmered with a pale, silvery light with every movement, its edges adorned with fine, silver filigree. Her ice-blue eyes scanned the room and every being in it with a detached curiosity, like a scientist examining a new species. She carried a staff that looked made of a twisting, living crystal, the light within it pulsing slowly like a heartbeat. Her presence brought a cold, sterile winter air into the room.
The one on the right, however, was Amara. And she wasn't a winter chill; she was a hellfire. She wore a provocative outfit of thin, black silk and matte leather straps that clung to her body's curves like a shadow, covering only the most necessary places. Her crystalline skin shimmered under the lounge lights, the red glow beneath her skin hinting at a smoldering fire within. Her amber eyes locked onto a single target the moment she entered the room: Robert. Her nine snow-white tails swayed behind her, lazy yet threatening, like serpents each with a mind of its own. Her presence brought the suffocating, electric scent of exotic flowers and the air before a storm into the room.
The team members watched the entrance of these two opposing poles into the lounge, holding their breath.
Robert didn't hesitate for a moment. After giving Karnah a confident look, he walked toward the newcomers. He stopped in front of Syla first.
"Welcome, Syla. I'm Robert, the new leader of the Red Friends."
Syla looked him up and down. Her voice held neither warmth nor hostility; just neutral professionalism. "Leader Robert. I have been informed of my assignment. I am at your service."
Robert pulled out his Tu device. From the management interface, he checked the rooms vacated by Normah and Tersan. "Normah's room is yours now. North wing, second door. You can get settled. I'll speak with you separately in a bit."
Syla merely nodded and, without a word, walked toward her room, her crystal staff making a faint chiming sound with every tap on the floor.
And then, Robert turned around. And faced Amara.
The succubus was waiting for him. The moment Robert turned to her, that familiar, all-knowing, cynical smile appeared on her face. "Welcome, Amara," Robert said, his voice flat and expressionless.
Amara approached him with a slow, hip-swaying gait. She stopped when only a breath of space remained between them. "Is 'welcome' all you're going to say to me, bender?" she purred, her voice sweeter than honey, more dangerous than poison. "You were whispering much more than that in the corridor that night."
"That night is over," Robert said, without blinking. "There are new rules now."
Amara laughed. It was like the tinkling of crystal bells, but with shards of glass in it. "Oh, darling, haven't you understood yet? I always make the rules. Remember, you weren't with me. I was with you."
While these words would have mortified Robert a few hours ago, now they only caused him to shrug. "You're stuck in the past. But I'm looking to the future. And in that future, you belong to this team too. We're going to make you beautiful, and wilder, as well."
Amara's amber eyes flashed for a moment at this unexpected response. Robert not playing her game, but setting his own, had provoked her. Her tails began to sway behind her with a faster, more excited rhythm. She licked her lips.
"Make... me beautiful?" she whispered. "If you want," she said, using her finger to point at the silk fabric that had slipped down her shoulder. "I can show you my beauty right here, right now, much more quickly."
She intentionally slid the strap on her shoulder down a little further. It was an open invitation. A test.
Robert just smiled at her move. "Stop," he said, his voice calm but firm. Then, he gestured with his eyes to the nine tails behind her. "And those... armaments of yours... please pull them back and put them away."
This metaphor caught Amara off guard. "Hmm? Should I?" she asked, a false innocence in her voice.
Just then, the other team members stepped in. Karnah came to Robert's side, standing like a wall in front of Amara. "You heard the Leader," she said, her voice calm but leaving no room for argument.
Vingyu started zipping in fast circles above Amara's head. "Yes! Pack up your armaments, fox-face! This is a battlefield, not a bedroom!" she chirped.
Amara, stunned for a moment by this unexpected solidarity surrounding her, faltered. Her eyes scanned each of their faces and saw not fear, but determined unity. Grumbling, she brought her tails into a calmer position behind her.
Robert, knowing he had the situation under control, called out to Syla, who had just gone to her room. "Syla! Can you come here a second?"
The crystal mage poked her head out of her doorway. "Yes, Leader?"
"How do you use your power?" Robert asked, in the same cold, analytical tone. "At the most basic level, what is your weapon?"
Syla thought for a moment. "My staff allows me to focus energy. With my mind, I can crystallize the moisture in the air or the silicate in the earth. I create defensive walls or spears. I can also summon crystal golems."
Robert nodded. "Understood. Pure, controlled power. Thank you, Syla." Syla retreated back into her room.
Robert turned back to Amara. He wanted to ask her the same question. "And you, Amara? Your weapon..."
But Amara cut him off. That provocative smile was back on her face. "Do you really need to ask, bender? Don't you know what my weapon is better than anyone?"
Robert paused and thought. And he realized she was right. Maybe he really didn't need to ask. Her power wasn't like a staff or an axe. Her power was her.
"You're right," Robert said. "Maybe not. We'll make you part of the plan, just as you are. But know this, I will definitely perform a modification on you too, sweetling."
That last word from Robert's mouth, 'sweetling', flipped a switch in Amara's brain. Robert had taken her word, her weapon, and used it against her. The succubus was practically derailed by this audacity.
"Are you... trying to seduce me, bender?" she whispered, her voice husky and full of desire. In an instant, she lunged at Robert, grabbing his arms. "Come on then. Show me those modifications."
Robert didn't flinch an inch at her move. Calmly, he raised his free hand and brought his index finger to his own lips.
"Shhh. Be quiet now," he said.
Then, looking into Amara's eyes, he pulled out his Tu device. From the management interface, he found the room vacated by Tersan and assigned it to Amara's profile. "There," he said, showing her the screen. "Your place is set too. East wing, last door. Now, everyone to their rooms. Tomorrow morning, we'll have our first team meeting. As a new team."
He dismissed everyone with this final, definitive command. The members, new and old, rattled by the shockwave this new leader had created, silently retreated to their own rooms.
When Robert was left alone in the lounge, he let out a deep breath. This was the longest, hardest day of his life. But he was alive. And most importantly, he was still standing. As he walked toward his room, in a corner of his mind, he could almost hear the hum of the Bending Machine and the schematics of his new, crazy plans.
When the lounge door closed behind him, Robert was alone in his room, but he no longer felt lonely. His mind was filled with the faces of his teammates, the ghost of the friends he had said goodbye to, and most importantly, the crushing weight of leadership newly placed on his shoulders. This wasn't a moment of victory; it was the beginning of a war. And Robert swore, for the first time in his life, not to be caught unprepared for this war.
Instead of sleeping, he sat at his desk and reactivated his Tu device. He opened the massive data packet Normah had transferred to him. On the screen, under the title "Red Friends - Archive," hundreds of files, reports, and personal logs, the accumulation of years, appeared. This was the team's unofficial, unfiltered history.
At first, he only reviewed the mission reports from the last few cycles. He tried to understand Normah's leadership style, Tersan's combat strategies, what types of missions the team excelled at, and where they failed. But his curiosity drove him deeper, back to the team's founding years. And what he saw astonished him.
Robert had assumed the Red Friends was a stable structure, founded by Normah, with the core members always remaining the same. But the archives told a completely different story. This team wasn't a fortress; it was like a riverbed, with different waters constantly flowing through it, its shape ever-changing. The member list spun like a compass. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of different beings had worn this team's uniform, only to be transferred to other teams, lost in missions, or to have simply left the Academy. The cruel truth that the Council and Tersan had spoken, "nothing is permanent," now stood before him as concrete proof.
The most surprising part was the profiles of these former members. These weren't just warriors or mages from different races. Among them were truly strange, hard-to-understand beings. A "Plasmoid" who had joined the team for one cycle, a living gas cloud with no solid form, communicating by changing color and temperature. In another record, a four-armed, cybernetic gunslinger who had come from a tear in the space-time continuum, claiming to see both the past and the future simultaneously. There was even a time when the team's healer was a non-verbal being nicknamed 'The Gardener', who grew crystalline plants with just a touch and used their saps for healing.
As Robert read these profiles, he understood better why the team was named "Red Friends." It wasn't just a color or a symbol. It was a refuge. It was a banner of rebellion for those who didn't fit the Academy's standard classifications, who were pushed aside, mismatched, and labeled as "weird." Normah and Tersan hadn't just managed a team. For years, they had been the guardians of lost souls. And now, the watch was his. This realization didn't lighten the load on his shoulders; on the contrary, it made it more meaningful.
When morning came, Robert had barely slept, but his mind was clearer than ever. When he entered the lounge, the heavy, mournful air from last night had dissipated. It was replaced by the uncertain, yet vibrant, energy of a new order. Karnah was in the kitchen area, preparing even more nutritional packs than usual; clearly, as part of her new leadership duties, she had taken charge of the team's physical needs. As Robert headed down the corridor toward his Bending class, he ran into Vingyu, who was coming from one of the training rooms. The winged girl's face was covered in sweat, but her eyes shone with the fire of the wild promise Robert had whispered to her. They exchanged a quick greeting; between them was a new, unspoken understanding, the silent bond between a commander and his sharpest weapon.
When he arrived at the room containing the Bending Machine, Kefius Arateon was waiting for him at the door, as always. The old Malken's deep, starry eyes studied Robert for a moment. There was no sign of emotion on his face, but Robert sensed that Kefius saw the change in him, the new hardness and determination he had found.
"You didn't sleep much last night," Kefius's whispered voice stated. It wasn't a question, but a fact.
"I had a lot to think about, Master," Robert said.
"Good," Kefius said, walking slowly into the room. "A leader's mind never truly rests. Now, it's time to use that busy mind for more constructive work."
This lesson was different from the previous ones. There were no more basic synchronization tests or simple shapes. Kefius directed him straight to advanced, detailed product creation.
"A dream is not just a whole," Kefius explained as they stood before the Bending Machine. "A dream is the combination of hundreds, even thousands, of small parts, materials, textures, and purposes. Today, you will not just create a 'thing'. You will create a 'mechanism'."
Kefius activated the Meka's screen, and a three-dimensional schematic of an intricate antique pocket watch, full of interlocking gears, springs, and miniature crystals, appeared in the air. "I want this," he said. "Not just its image. Its function. I want every gear to turn the next perfectly, every spring to have the correct tension, every crystal to vibrate time at the right frequency. In your mind, don't just see it as a picture. Disassemble it. Understand its parts. Then, reassemble it."
Robert accepted the challenge as he put on the Fuj. When he retreated into the white room of his mind, he was no longer just a calm copy. He was one with the creator, the engineer, within him. In his mind, he broke the pocket watch's schematic down to its atoms. He 'felt' the metallic taste of the brass gears, the tension of the steel springs, the coldness of the quartz crystal.
The Meka's screen responded to his mental analysis. Not just a picture, but detailed engineering drawings, material analyses, and energy flow diagrams appeared. When Robert gave the command from his mind, the hum of the Matrix changed to a more complex, more rhythmic melody he had never heard before. The microscopic arms inside began to assemble the atoms one by one, with the precision of a symphony orchestra.
The process felt like hours. Finally, when the lid on the production belt opened, there it was: a perfect pocket watch made of brass and silver, small enough to fit in his palm. Its ticking sounds were clearly audible in the silence of the room.
"Not bad," Kefius said, picking up the watch and examining it. "The mainspring tension is off by three percent. This means it will lose four seconds a day. But for a first attempt... acceptable."
Robert was both exhausted and proud. He felt this was the right time to ask the questions on his mind.
"Master," he said, as Kefius put the watch down. "May I ask you something?"
Kefius turned to him. "Right now," Robert said. "In the Academy... or in the known universe, is there another active Dream Bender besides me?"
KEfi's face was momentarily shadowed by an age-old sadness. "No, Robert. Right now, you are the only one known. The last one was lost on a mission, eighty cycles before you. This is a lonely path."
Robert had expected this answer, but hearing it still added another layer to the weight on his shoulders. "And... what if another one appears someday? What happens?"
"That is the Council's greatest fear and greatest hope," Kefius said. "If one bender is an anomaly, two benders are a potential crisis. If one appears, they are immediately found, brought to the Academy, and, like you, kept under surveillance. But they are also protected. Because this talent is the most valuable and most dangerous gift in the universe."
Robert nodded in understanding. Then, he got to what he was really curious about. "What about this machine? To use it... will I have to come here every time? My own projects, the modifications I want to make for my team... I want to keep them secret."
For the first time, Kefius noticed that Robert was thinking not just like a student, but like a strategist. He was pleased.
"The machine is unique, Robert," he said. "Lilya's legacy. It's impossible to make a copy of it, because it's not just technology, it's also a soul. However..." He paused for a moment. "...there is a way to move it from here."
Robert's heart quickened. "How?"
"By getting permission to build your own, private technical workshop," Kefius explained. "This is one of the rarest privileges in the Academy. It's only given to the highest-level inventors and masters. But a Dream Bender needs such a place more than anyone. To get this permission, you must first prove that you can use this machine perfectly, that you have mastered its every secret. You must go before the Council with an invention you've created with the Bending Machine, something never seen before, something that will give the Academy a strategic advantage."
"And if... if I succeed?"
"If you succeed, the Council will give you the resources and authority to build your own workshop in any sector of the Academy you wish. And you will have the right to add a secret room, a sanctuary, to that workshop's plans, one that can only be opened by your mind or biometric signature. The Bending Machine will then be removed from this room and moved to your sanctuary. It will be kept safe, in a place only you can access, only you can control."
Robert's eyes were shining. This was more than he could have ever imagined. His own laboratory. His own sanctuary. A place where he could reshape his team according to his own vision, far from the prying eyes of the Council.
"This is my new goal," Robert said, unshakable determination in his voice.
"It should be," Kefius said. "Because the key to that workshop will not only be your genius, but also the true test of your leadership."
When Robert left the class that day, he was no longer just a rookie leader trying to hold his team together. He was a creator with a purpose, with a roadmap. His steps were faster, his posture sharper. Because he now knew where he was going. He was going home—to the workshop he would build himself.