In the afternoon, deep in the forest, the edge of a sword rises toward the sky. The adolescents step back, executing a downward block, and freeze under the stern gaze of their master. He approaches with a branch in hand, correcting them one by one: he points at the blonde, telling her not to extend her arms so much; then the boy, instructing him to keep his head straight and his eyes forward; next the black-haired girl, adjusting how she grips her weapon; and finally the brunette, telling her not to spread her legs too wide so she can maintain better balance. After observing them holding the stance, he commands:
"Horizontal cut, right to left, to the torso!"
The youths perform the move slowly and flawlessly. The warrior shows a satisfied expression and continues:
"Now jump and deliver a downward slash to the head!"
They leap, weapons raised overhead, execute the attack, and land correctly. Then the warrior creates a clay clone for each student and orders:
"Now—fight!"
The copies rush at the adolescents, who skillfully block from below, twist their bodies, lock blades with their opponents, and disarm them through applied pressure. Taking advantage, they slash the clones' abdomens, then jump and, with precise cuts, slice their adversaries in half, ending the fight.
Jayden nods to himself. "Good. Rest—you've progressed quite well."
Francesca, serious, removes her weighted wristbands and ankle weights. "If you say so—after making us practice the same thing for three hours."
Emily hands Jayden the weights. "Master, is it really necessary to train technique control this much?"
Jayden, serious as he gathers the weights, replies, "Training has two key purposes. First, to cultivate techniques until you can use them with complete confidence and mastery, efficiently in any situation. Second, to develop the art of inducing your opponent—through your movements—to act in ways that benefit you, so you can defeat them."
Alexa sighs, wiping sweat from her forehead. "Yeah, we get it. You've been teaching us that second point ever since the Tower Liz incident."
Jayden turns his back and enters his cabin. "So you don't get beaten again by idiots with more experience."
The youths feel a twinge of embarrassment. Even though they had won, their master considered how battered they ended up to be a major failure. With nothing to say, they sit beneath a tree's shade and rehydrate. The brunette looks up at the sky, thinking about the two figures she saw during the beach training, wondering if they were real or just a trick of her mind. She looks down at her companions, who seem tense with one another after the refusal regarding the red-haired boy. Though intimidated, her curiosity outweighs her fear.
"Hey… guys," she asks, "do you remember when we were at the beach?"
The green-eyed girl smiles and nods, recalling the softness of the sand and the refreshing ocean—then frowns internally at how short the break had been once the warrior appeared. Francesca nods as well. Tyron nods too, though his gaze remains fixed on the ground.
Emily continues, "Did any of you ever see something strange around the master?"
Francesca arches an eyebrow. "Emily, not to call you stupid, but you mean the guy who taught us to walk on water and throw energy bolts? Be specific."
The others nod in agreement, prompting a gentle laugh from the brunette. She takes a moment to recall the brief moment clearly, then asks:
"Did you ever see waves or auras near him?"
Tyron asks curiously, "When did you see something like that?"
Emily thinks. "When he invited us to drink tea again."
Alexa looks surprised, recalling the early days of her training. "Did he hit you with an Aura Pulse? What did you do to annoy him?"
Tyron raises his eyebrows. "Aura what?"
Alexa explains, "It's a technique where he manifests an image at will to intimidate the opponent and crush them under the pressure of their own energy."
Francesca scoffs. "Don't be ridiculous. I'd believe it happened to you, or to Ty, or even to me—but Emi? Just look at her."
All three focus on the brunette, who blushes and smiles sweetly. They shake their heads almost in unison.
"No way—she's too gentle."
They dismiss the idea that Jayden used any intimidation technique on her and ask for more details. Emily replies thoughtfully:
"I'm sure I saw two silhouettes behind him."
"Siluettes of what?" Francesca asks.
"Two people," Emily answers, worried.
Tyron looks amazed. "Did you see their faces?"
Emily looks down. "Not clearly. It was only a second. Maybe if I saw them again, I could recognize them."
Tyron says seriously, "Could it have been Mr. Matias? Maybe he has the same abilities as the master and hides them from us."
Francesca smacks Tyron on the back of the head. "Don't say stupid things. If that were true, Guarly wouldn't have any crime at all… though it could be someone close to the master."
Tyron's eyes light up. "I've got it—maybe it's someone from the photos in the master's house!"
The three girls look at him with interest. Tyron laughs, remembering, and explains how he once nearly undressed in front of them when they first met—how he'd been inside the warrior's home. Accepting that it was possible, the brunette stands up. Alexa, remembering the last time they entered the master's home without permission, feels a shiver of fear and decides to follow her.
They stand before the cabin door, staring nervously at their master's back as he works at the table. Alexa taps Emily's shoulder, signaling it might be better not to enter—but Emily swallows, gathers her courage, and says:
"Master, may we come in?"
Jayden glances over his shoulder and nods. Encouraged, Emily steps inside. Alexa hesitates, then follows. The interior is just as they expected—handmade couches and table, shelves of swords along the wall. What surprises Alexa most is a framed photograph of herself with her companions and their master, hanging among many others.
Her eyes drift to another frame—four other adolescents with Jayden. She focuses on a smiling blond with curly hair.
He looks so much like Dwayne… she thinks. But someone trained by a master like ours couldn't be that positive…
Jayden approaches with Emily. "So, according to an idea conceived by the dumbest among you, someone could have been standing behind me that day? Fine—these are the people closest to me."
Emily studies the photos carefully: two adults—one with a sword, a woman with a spear—and two children; then more images of Jayden with different students.
"Were these your former students?" she asks.
Jayden nods coldly.
Alexa tries to turn one frame to read the names, but Jayden grips her wrist and stops her with a threatening look. Freeing her hand, she stares at the curly-haired blond, stunned.
I can't believe it… I'm under the same master as Dwayne. That means if I ever find him again, I could ask him for advice…
Her eyes harden. The only person I know who defeated Valeria.
Emily sighs, disappointed. "No… none of them look like the silhouettes I saw."
Jayden replies curtly, "Then out."
As Emily leaves, Alexa asks brightly, eyes closed, "Do you know where Dwayne lives now?"
Jayden's tone turns icy. "Yes—but if you think he'll tell you how to kill your sister, you won't find the answer you want."
Alexa's gaze darkens. "The answer I want, I already know. By my grandmother's honor, I will end Valeria."
She leaves.
Jayden steps outside carrying four perfectly spherical stones and tosses one to each student. Sitting on the porch steps, he commands sternly:
"Third Fiu technique. You'll learn how to form an energy sphere properly. Spread your legs. Breathe steadily—inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth. Close your eyes and visualize a sphere."
They follow his instructions. When they're ready, he continues:
"Extend your empty hand. Focus on the weight in the other hand. Without losing the spherical image, concentrate your inner Fiu into the empty hand—match the stone's weight."
Minutes pass in silence. A faint glow appears in the hands of the blonde, the black-haired girl, and the brunette. Jayden frowns at Tyron, who produces nothing.
"What's wrong now?" Jayden snaps. "You're hiding something. That's why your energy won't respond."
"Give me a moment—I can do it too!" Tyron strains.
"No," Jayden replies coldly, standing. "You can't. Your emotions are in conflict. Say what's wrong."
Tyron drops the stone. His companions turn to him. He clenches his fists, remembering his master's advice—be sharp like the truth—and exhales.
"I told Antonio I was Topacio," he blurts out, collapsing to the ground from a punch. "And now he's in the hospital!"
Emily and Alexa gasp as he falls, blood trickling from a cut on his cheek. Jayden shakes his head and reenters the cabin. Francesca grabs Tyron by the collar, furious.
"You idiot! I warned you! We all did! Why are you so dense? You were not supposed to tell him anything!"
Tyron avoids her gaze—not from embarrassment, but because she was right. When he finally looks up, tears stream down his face.
"I'm sick of lying!" he shouts. "To my parents, to my best friend! Everyone praises the vigilantes while we get nothing in return!"
Francesca raises her fist again—then a loud crack interrupts them. Jayden has crushed a nut with one finger. He flicks the shells at Francesca's neck and Tyron's forehead.
"Stupid brat," Jayden says, sitting. "I warned you—the warrior's path isn't easy. Francesca is right. You messed up. Now you fix it."
Tyron sobs. "But his mother blames me. I can't even visit him."
"And she's right," Francesca says flatly.
Jayden looks at the sky. "She is. But you're lucky—you've trained in shadows. If Tyron can't enter, Topacio can."
Tyron stands. As they prepare to leave, Francesca gently places a bandage on his cheek. He blushes, confused.
"Aren't you still mad at me?"
"Of course I am," she snaps, not looking at him. "But at least you told the truth while we can still do something—and you'll need help breaking into a hospital."
Relieved, Tyron smiles as the others support him.
That night, they infiltrate the hospital. With Nya's help, they locate Antonio's room—12-B. Francesca and Tyron slip inside.
Antonio lies unconscious, hooked to monitors, his hand heavily bandaged.
"Hey, buddy," Tyron whispers, holding his hand.
Francesca reads the chart. "A coma caused by shock…"
"I know," Tyron says suddenly. "I'll use Connection—enter his mind."
She frowns. "You need a strong emotional bond. After everything, are you sure?"
"I have to," Tyron replies. "This is my fault."
He places his hand on Antonio's forehead and focuses. Memories swirl—fragmented, exploding—until he pushes deeper and finds Erinios.
The masked figure attacks.
"I'm the real Erinios," it sneers.
A brutal battle erupts inside Antonio's mind. Tyron fights with lightning and resolve, realizing Erinios feeds on despair. Channeling positive Fiu, he unleashes a golden surge that shatters the mask.
"Help me…" Antonio whispers.
Light floods everything.
Tyron awakens, slammed against the wall. Francesca rushes to him.
"And Erinios?" he asks.
"Antonio," she corrects, confused.
Antonio slowly opens his eyes. Tyron hugs him tightly.
"So it was true," Antonio says weakly.
"Yes," Tyron smiles through tears. "I'm a vigilante. I'm sorry for everything."
Antonio laughs softly. "You saved me—twice. I should be the one apologizing."
They clasp hands, smiling. Francesca exhales in relief.
A knock echoes down the hall.
"Someone's coming," Alexa whispers over the comms.
They vanish into the night, leaving Antonio alone—finally free of the voices, alone with his own thoughts, and at peace.