Once again, a new week of activity begins in Guarly.
In a narrow alleyway, a dark-haired detective puts on latex gloves while carrying his investigation kit in a briefcase. Jason examines the scene for the third time in two weeks, thinking, I'll find something, even if it's the last thing I do. Kneeling down, he returns to the spot where the rapist's lifeless body was found, carefully swabbing the ground again in search of samples. He then stands and focuses on a dent in a brick wall, photographing it before heading back to his patrol car to retrieve an X-ray taken as close as possible to the time Welter officially closed the case.
Jason returns to the wall, studying the indentation. This matches the fracture Álvarez had in his skull, he thinks. Based on the impact point and the force used, the attacker must have been at least one meter eighty, maybe even two meters tall… He looks back to where the body was found and reflects, …but it doesn't make sense. Someone capable of smashing a man into a brick wall like this and then tearing out his genitals with brute force couldn't have been the same person subdued by the rapist.
He squats down to observe the crime scene more closely. His eyes shift from the body's position back to the dent in the wall, and his mind reconstructs the events. In his imagination, he sees the victim being shoved against the wall by the rapist to limit her escape. He shakes his head a few times, trying to assign height and build to the woman, until he finally concludes that—by sheer logic—if she was assaulted, she wouldn't have had the physical advantage needed to kill the criminal. Moreover, Marcelo was known not to carry weapons, and none of his victims showed stab wounds or cuts.
Jason studies the wall again and looks toward the street that connects to the alley.
"So it seems a third party may have intervened," he murmurs.
He searches the brick wall for hair—anything that could move the case forward. With the hypothesis of a third party now in mind, he thinks, It was probably a man. That would make more sense—someone taller who could overpower Álvarez… but what kind of animal could tear out his genitals with brute force and dent a brick wall?
Suddenly, Jason freezes, struck by an idea. He packs up his equipment, gets into his patrol car, and heads back to the station, repeating to himself, If there's something abnormal in this city that everyone treats as normal, I've learned it's probably related to them—the vigilantes.
Emily slowly wakes up, blinking at the curtains that have just been opened by her little sister, who smiles brightly.
"Come on, Emi! You said you'd take me to the library today!"
The older girl nods sleepily and gently asks Camila to leave the room. She gets up, goes to her wardrobe, and changes out of her pajamas into a pink T-shirt with a small bear on the shoulder and slightly tight blue jeans. Sitting at her desk in front of a mirror with yellow edges, she brushes her hair and smiles when she notices a photo of herself as a child with her former best friend.
"Monica…" she whispers to herself. "…I hope you're doing well."
As Emily heads to the bathroom, Camila glances at the photo on the desk and thinks, She's changed so much, smiling as she recalls a pink-haired teenager with purple streaks.
Later that afternoon, the sound of clashing katanas echoes through the forest path leading to the cabin.
Tyron flips through the air and lands, blade horizontal, narrowly dodging a wind sphere before blocking a downward strike from Alexa. He counters with a spinning side kick that sends her back—but leaves his own back exposed for a moment.
Alexa grits her teeth, focusing on warm memories of her mother. She throws her sword into the air, gathers Fiu in both hands, and rolls across the ground, firing two wind orbs. Tyron dodges the left one but is struck full-on by the right, crashing to the ground and bouncing twice. Alexa catches her katana and presses the attack, slashing from the ground. Tyron blocks from his knees, then channels energy into his free hand, twists his hips, and knocks her back—just enough for her to leap and strike the back of his head with a kick. Tyron fires a lightning bolt in response.
Time seems to slow as Alexa unleashes a powerful Fiu blast, colliding with the lightning in a smoky explosion. Tyron retreats, but two wind spheres slam into his chest, knocking him flat. Alexa rushes to grab his red bandanna, but Tyron springs up and slashes horizontally. She ducks, the blade grazing past her nose, then counters with a spinning kick that sends him forward. Tyron leaps onto a tree trunk, concentrating Fiu in his feet, and assumes the Derem Kesim stance.
"Fran, I need help!" he shouts, sweating.
"I'm busy too!" Francesca replies sharply, clashing with Emily.
Francesca lunges, but Emily blocks overhead and counters with a kick. The exchange is fierce—steel ringing against steel—until Francesca disengages and rushes to Tyron's aid. Emily tries to stop her, launching a burst that turns into an earthen spike. Francesca shatters it with a palm strike, only to find Emily blocking her again.
Meanwhile, Alexa finds an opening. She leaps behind Tyron, slashes behind his legs, and drops him to his knees. Before he can recover, she knees him in the face and strips the red bandanna away.
Seeing Tyron defeated, Francesca attacks desperately, but Emily slams her palm into the ground. Two massive chunks of earth snap shut around Francesca's right arm, immobilizing it. Emily disarms her cleanly as Alexa ties the bandanna around her own forehead.
"Excellent! With twelve seconds to spare," Jayden calls from the porch. "Winners: Alexa and Emily!"
Jayden heals Tyron with a hand on his shoulder while observing Francesca smash the earth bindings apart. I've taught them control for three months, he thinks, but their styles differ greatly. Tyron and Francesca rely on plans. Emily and Alexa fight freely—and their synergy makes them dangerously adaptable.
He turns to Emily. "Did you do that?"
"Yes," she answers nervously. "I acted on instinct."
"Good," Jayden replies. "Instinct matters. But next time, channel the earth through your feet. You won't compromise your stance."
"Yes, Master!"
"Rest for an hour," he adds. "Then we'll learn something new."
At sunset, Jayden gathers them again and draws a katana with a black handle and golden diamonds.
"Memorize your blade," he instructs. "Its shape. Its edge."
After a few minutes, they nod.
"Now focus your Fiu on the blade. Specifically, the edge."
Their weapons glow faintly.
"Maintain that image. Then strike."
Invisible force tears into the practice dummies. Jayden's target is cleanly split in two.
"This technique is called Flying Edge," Jayden explains. "The better you know your weapon, the more lethal this becomes."
Francesca nods, then slashes. A blade of pure Fiu cleaves her dummy in half—and gouges deeply into the oak behind it.
Jayden smiles darkly. Too much talent, he thinks.
On the walk home, Tyron brings up Antonio again. Alexa and Emily both refuse immediately.
"It's too risky," Alexa says. "He tried to kill us. And he knows our families."
Emily nods sadly. "I care about you, Ty. But there are too many risks."
Tyron walks away conflicted—until he stops, pulls out his phone, and types:
"Hey Anto… I need to tell you something."
In Saicon, Doctor Jayden Benett reviews Jerome Sejuk's medical records. He explains calmly that Jerome inherited his mother's heart condition—but that surgery is an option.
Alexandre Sejuk thanks him, deeply relieved.
Later that night, Jayden is embraced from behind by his wife. She smiles.
"It's good to see you're still the same fool I married, Jayden Damnare."
Back in Guarly, on a rooftop, Antonio faces Erinios—a dark reflection of himself.
Blood drips onto the concrete.
Antonio collapses unconscious as the city lights flicker below.