Cagaro wanted to scream as loud as he could until his veins ripped apart.
It was a raw, animalistic release that would tear through the corridor and shatter the iron table in half.
His chest burned with it. But he did not.
He stood still behind the mask, shoulders steady, breathing controlled. Henry saw composure. Blyke saw resilience. Arcee saw stability.
But everyone saw something similar... That same little child had overcame expectations...
They did not see the storm clawing inside his ribs. He remembered a boy on a shoreline who could not step into the water. A child who tore his own face apart to remain loved.
A teenager who walked away from a corpse and called it survival. Every time he had wanted to scream, he had swallowed it.
He had learned something brutal about adulthood,
Emotion is leverage.
If you let it spill uncontrolled, someone else will weaponize it.
Tubal had tried to drown him in ambiguity. Years ago, his mother had drowned him in grief. The ocean had drowned his brother in reality. Every time, chaos demanded fractures.
And every time, those fractures had been the expected outcome. He felt the tremor in his hands and forced it still.
Victory did not taste sweet. It tasted metallic, like restraint. He had lied first. He had carried the fracture quietly. He had endured confusion without begging for clarity. He had manipulated perception without losing sight of purpose.
That was not the boy who stood at the edge of the sea. That was someone forged from unimaginable sorrow.
Henry broke the silence first.
"What now?"
Just a grounded question from someone who understood that victories often cost more than defeats.
Tubal Cain stood slowly from the iron chair. The sound resounded heavier than before. He looked at each of them... Arcee, Blyke, Henry and finally Cagaro.
"Well" Tubal said, stretching his shoulders slightly, "a wager is a wager."
From behind his back, iron flowed like liquid from his palm, condensing into the shape of a long, narrow sword. It was simple, no excessive.
Arcee tensed. Blyke stepped forward instinctively.
Tubal raised a hand gently.
"Relax. If I wished to fight, we would not be speaking."
He rested the blade's tip lightly against the floor.
"In my era," he began, voice softer now, "truth was not a philosophical luxury. It was survival. A man's word could build cities or burn tribes. When I was young, I thought strength was dominance. Later, I thought it was intelligence."
He glanced at Cagaro with a smile.
"Today reminded me it is restraint."
He paced slowly, like a grandfather addressing restless grandchildren.
"You know what grief teaches?" he asked lightly.
None answered.
"It teaches you that you are not the center of the world. Pain humbles ego better than any defeat."
He chuckled softly. "Though I do prefer defeat in games rather than existential crises."
Even Blyke exhaled faintly at that.
Tubal's expression grew thoughtful.
"I have chased dreams before. Grand ones. Ambitious ones. But I learned something too late."
He pointed the blade slightly upward, as if underlining his next words.
"A dream that hurts others is merely a bundle of burden disguised as personal pleasure.
If your ambition requires someone else's ruin to feel complete, then it is not a dream. It is vanity wearing perfume."
He looked directly at Cagaro.
"People will mock your path. They will question your methods. Some will call you foolish. Some will call you dangerous. Let them."
Then at Blyke.
"Move forward anyway."
Then Arcee.
"Judge yourselves honestly."
Finally, Henry.
"And when the darkness comes and it will, do not let it define your structure. Use it in your way.
And do not play games with old men too confidently." he added dryly. "Occasionally, they bite back."
A faint, warm smile crossed his face.
"You all have potential. Do not waste it proving yourselves to those who cannot see it. Prove it by continuing to the unseen."
He adjusted his grip on the sword.
"Besides," he said casually, "retirement by self-inflicted dramatic exit has always sounded poetic."
Cagaro's jaw tightened. "You don't have to do this."
Tubal's eyes softened. "I do."
The blade touched his chest.
"I have lied as Judge. There is elegance in accepting consequence."
He drove the sword into his chest without hesitation. The sound was dull, final.
Iron did not bleed like flesh. Instead, cracks of light formed along his body.
He staggered once but did not fall.
His voice grew lighter as fissures spread.
"Do not look so grim. I have had a long run."
He looked at them one last time.
"I hope we meet again… perhaps under less adversarial circumstances. Bring tea next time... and fewer contradictions."
A small, almost mischievous smile.
His body began to fragment, iron dissolving into glowing particles that drifted upward like embers.
"Keep going further." he said softly before fully dissolving.
....
They walked.
Henry had his hands in his pockets, whistling some random tune as if they had just finished grocery shopping instead of watching a man stab himself into dust.
Blyke shot him a glare. "You are disturbingly okay."
Henry shrugged. "He accepted the result. It was his choice."
"That's not the point!" Blyke snapped, kicking a loose screw across the floor. "The old man literally monologued himself into oblivion and you're humming."
Arcee adjusted her glasses calmly. "Emotional processing differs per individual. His brain is still processing, you idiot."
"Oh wow, thank you, walking psychology textbook."
They reached the staircase leading to the third floor.
Blyke looked at Cagaro. "By the way… you did good. Like, freakishly good. Didn't expect you to cook him that hard."
Cagaro blinked. "Cook?"
"You dismantled him. Mentally."
Henry smirked faintly but said nothing.
Blyke narrowed his eyes at Henry. "And you. How were you so sure he would win?"
Henry looked away.
"Don't ignore me."
More silence.
Blyke threw his arms up. "Oh, I get it. Mysterious mentor archetype. 'I knew all along.' What's next? You reveal you orchestrated Tubal's bridal chamber secrets too?"
Henry kept walking.
"That's it!" Blyke continued dramatically, "you definitely bribed fate or you swapped numbers. Or you're secretly God with social anxiety."
Arcee covered a small laugh.
Henry finally spoke. "If you shout any louder, the second floor might surrender in advance."
Blyke scoffed. "I hate you."
"Thanks, I will note it in my diary with exact date, month and year."
Behind them, Cagaro slowed slightly and murmured to Arcee, quiet enough that the others wouldn't hear.
"I don't think Tubal tried to win."
Arcee glanced at him. "Explain."
"He lied from the start. A judge who wanted victory wouldn't expose himself that early. His moves… they pushed me. Forced me to think deeper."
Cagaro's gaze lowered. "It felt less like a match… and more like a lesson."
Arcee's expression softened. "You think he chose the outcome?"
Cagaro nodded faintly. "I think he already decided to lose."
Ahead, Henry stopped briefly at the stairwell door.
"Third floor, here we come." he said casually.