The wind howled through the empty training grounds of Everlock, but the tension in the air crackled louder than any storm.
"She's not strong enough."
Kuromi's voice echoed coldly in Jalen's mind—words spoken just the night before.
They had stood on the upper balcony of the palace, gazing down at the city lights flickering below like embers. Jalen had his hands tucked behind his head, body relaxed but eyes sharp. Kuromi stood beside him, rigid as ever, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
"She's been through hell," Jalen had said quietly. "And she's still standing."
Kuromi didn't even blink. "That doesn't make her ready."
Jalen exhaled through his nose. "You're acting like this next stretch is the end of the world."
"It is," Kuromi replied. "You know what's out there. What you'll have to do to survive it."
He didn't argue. He couldn't. He had seen it too.
"If you care about her," Kuromi said, her tone shifting ever so slightly, "send her home. Let her live."
Jalen's gold-flecked eyes flicked toward her. "She's not a kid."
"She's not a killer, either," Kuromi snapped, her eyes hard. "If she hadn't met you, she wouldn't feel the need to become one."
That stung.
But Jalen didn't flinch. Instead, he smirked. "She wants to prove she belongs? Then all she has to do is kick your ass."
And now—
The arena came back into focus.
"Send her ass packing!" Jalen hollered from the sideline, a grin pulling at his lips as he cupped his hands around his mouth. "Let's go, Rhea!"
Rhea stood across from Kuromi, fists clenched, her eyes locked on the woman who had already bested so many of them in training. The obsidian beneath her feet was still cracked from Nathan and Lucio's earlier battle, but she felt the weight of something heavier.
Expectation.
Kuromi didn't smile. Didn't taunt.
She simply nodded once.
"Begin."
Rhea charged first, keeping her movements tight, controlled—just as Lucio taught her. Her footwork was clean. Her strikes disciplined. For a brief moment, Kuromi seemed to acknowledge it, even parrying without striking back.
But then—
"You're telegraphing," Kuromi said coldly. "Too much wind-up."
She stepped forward, faster than Rhea could track, and slammed a palm into her shoulder, spinning her off-balance.
Rhea recovered quickly, biting her lip. 'Don't let her get in your head.'
But Kuromi was already speaking again. "You hesitate too often. Every time you swing, you're asking yourself if you should."
Rhea gritted her teeth and went low, sweeping for Kuromi's legs. Kuromi hopped lightly and delivered a sharp kick to Rhea's arm, sending her tumbling back.
Still no lethal force.
Just education. Ruthless education.
Rhea rose, panting.
"I've seen stronger resolve from orphans in the gutter," Kuromi said, tone unchanged. "Is that what you want to be? Another child trying to wear armor too heavy for her?"
Rhea's enchanted chestplate shimmered—and then cracked.
Kuromi stepped forward, fist colliding with the weakened plate.
It shattered.
Rhea gasped, staggering back, chest heaving.
Kuromi's gaze never wavered. "How will you survive without enchantments? What happens when the magic fails, and you're just a girl holding a blade too big for her hands?"
Rhea's grip trembled.
Images flooded her mind—of Stix falling, of Jalen standing over his grave, of Lucio bleeding, of Nathan raging, of herself frozen in fear.
And Jalen—always Jalen—fighting, bleeding, breaking to protect them all.
She clenched her teeth. Her heart pounded. But her knees… shook.
Kuromi raised a hand, preparing for another blow—and Jalen moved.
"Enough!"
He stepped into the arena, his eyes glowing faintly, voice low. "She gets it."
But before Kuromi could say anything, Rhea's voice cut through.
"Stay out of it!"
Jalen froze.
She was glaring at him—eyes filled not with gratitude, but anger.
"I don't need you to save me!" she shouted, breath ragged. "Not this time!"
Kuromi didn't even look surprised.
Rhea turned back toward her opponent, hand dropping to the ground—where her fingers found a small, hidden dagger, one she'd buried there before the fight began.
Just in case.
She rose slowly.
No enchantments.
No power-ups.
Just her.
She charged.
Kuromi met her head-on. The clash was brief, sudden, and decisive—
—and Rhea landed a hit.
A shallow cut across Kuromi's arm.
A single, honest strike.
The next moment, Kuromi's palm collided with Rhea's temple.
Rhea dropped like a stone.
The arena fell silent.
Kuromi stood over her for a moment, then turned to Jalen.
"If you care about her," she said, voice hard, "send her home. Or I will take your head for dragging her into something she cannot survive."
She didn't wait for a response.
She walked away.
Jalen stood alone at the edge of the arena, hands slowly curling into fists.
And Rhea—unconscious, but still breathing—lay at the center of it all.
"I'm sorry, Rhea, I shouldn't be doing this, but you just need a little push... Show her not to underestimate you."
Immediately, Rhea surged awake, blitzing past Jalen straight into Kuromi.
No wind-up. No warm-up. No thought. Just raw, instinctive movement—faster than anything she'd ever felt before.
She tore across the arena, the obsidian beneath her boots cracking slightly under the force of her acceleration. In a blur, she closed the distance and drove her shoulder into Kuromi's side with enough force to knock the older woman back a full step—something no one else had managed to do today.
Kuromi's eyes widened for the first time, not in fear, but in sharp, clinical surprise. She adjusted her stance, grounding herself as Rhea pressed the assault, throwing a flurry of quick jabs followed by a spinning kick. It wasn't brute force—it was discipline. Fluidity. Timing.
Rhea was no longer hesitating. No longer asking for permission.
She had chosen to fight.
Their weapons clashed again, the sound ringing out like a thunderclap across the training grounds. Rhea's dagger, though smaller, danced with frightening speed. Kuromi moved to intercept, but Rhea slipped under her guard, dragging the blade along Kuromi's gauntlet and then stepping in with an elbow to the ribs.
Kuromi grunted, skidding back a few feet.
Rhea didn't stop.
She darted in again, feinting high before dropping low, sweeping Kuromi's legs. The woman jumped, barely avoiding it, but Rhea caught her mid-air with a hard upward strike to the midsection that forced a hiss of breath through Kuromi's clenched teeth.
On the sidelines, Nathan's jaw slackened. "Where the hell did that come from?"
Lucio didn't answer. He was already narrowing his eyes.
"She's faster," he murmured. "Much faster."
Jalen said nothing.
He just watched. Quiet. Focused. Knowing exactly what he had done.
The glyph hidden under Rhea's shirt shimmered faintly—a single, delicate symbol etched with divine precision. It pulsed once with golden light, then faded.
Kuromi landed hard, her boots skidding across the polished obsidian. She raised her arms again, expression unreadable. Not angry. Not impressed.
But curious.
"You've improved," she said softly, voice lower now. "Where did this come from?"
Rhea didn't answer.
She didn't know.
All she knew was that she felt… right.
She felt enough.
Kuromi lunged, and the battle resumed.
It was faster now. Harder. Both women moving like blurs of shadow and light. Kuromi's movements were still cleaner—years of experience guiding every motion—but Rhea's new speed and refined form pushed her to respond with genuine focus. Every strike that Kuromi landed, Rhea answered with two. Every parry she executed, Rhea twisted around, adapting mid-motion.
The arena hummed with power, their clash rippling with energy that pushed back the protective wards.
But eventually—
Kuromi struck true.
A spinning backhand caught Rhea across the cheek. The younger girl stumbled, then rolled with the momentum, regaining her footing—but Kuromi was already there.
A palm to the stomach.
A sweeping leg behind the knee.
And finally, a hand across Rhea's back that drove her face-first into the obsidian.
The dust settled.
Kuromi stood over her, breathing slightly heavier now. Her hair was tousled, her arm bleeding from a shallow gash. And yet her eyes…
Her eyes weren't cold.
They were proud.
Rhea lay still for a moment, then gritted her teeth and pushed herself onto her elbows. Her vision swam, but she didn't let her body go slack. Her arms trembled, yet she refused to collapse.
Kuromi looked down at her, a quiet beat of silence hanging between them.
And then she turned to Jalen.
"I was wrong."
Jalen blinked.
Kuromi knelt beside Rhea and placed a hand on her shoulder—not to pin her down, but to steady her.
"She has no natural talent. No enchanted armor. No divine blood or ancient magic…" Kuromi's voice softened just slightly. "But she still stood up. Again and again."
Rhea coughed weakly, but looked up, dazed and proud. "I can still go."
"You're done," Kuromi replied gently. "For now."
She helped her up, slowly, letting Rhea lean against her.
Rhea swayed slightly but stood tall. Her gaze met Jalen's—and for the first time, there was no hesitation in it. No fear. Just silent affirmation.
Jalen nodded once.
Kuromi turned to the others. "From this point on, I will be personally training her."
Everyone stared.
Nathan raised an eyebrow. "That a thing you do?"
Kuromi didn't answer.
Instead, she gently guided Rhea off the field. Not with disdain. Not with pity.
But with respect.
Rhea glanced once more over her shoulder at the others.
At Lucio.
At Nathan.
At Jalen.
And then she walked forward—toward her own path.
One carved not by divine intervention or gifted power…
…but by will.
By grit.
By her own damn hands.