Walking out of the woods as the last light of evening faded, the first thing Jason saw was the familiar patched tent. A quiet smile touched his lips. Two days away had felt longer than they should have. He adjusted the small bundle of herbs he did not yet carry—those would come later—and muttered under his breath,
"Here's a surprise for you, Mother."
He was still a dozen paces from the tent when the flap flew open and Hannah burst out. Her eyes locked on him at once. A bright, wordless cry of pure relief left her throat.
"Mother! Big brother is back!"
She sprinted across the packed earth and launched herself at him without slowing. Jason had only a heartbeat to brace. He caught her cleanly, staggered half a step under the sudden weight, then steadied. Hannah's arms locked around his neck; her legs wrapped around his waist like she intended never to let go again.
"Big brother—your body feels hard," she said, half laughing, half accusing. "I almost hurt myself."
"That's the result of the training I've been doing," Jason answered, voice warm. He carried her the rest of the way toward the tent without setting her down.
Clara stepped out into the fading light, drawn by her daughter's shout. The moment her gaze found her son, something in her expression shifted. She could not yet name the change, but she felt it—an alteration in the quiet pressure of his presence, a denser, cleaner aura that had not been there when he left. Only when he stopped a few paces in front of her and gently lowered Hannah to the ground did the truth settle fully into place.
Jason bowed respectfully. "Good evening, Mother. How have you been?"
Clara's eyes narrowed slightly, studying him. "I'm well enough. And you—when will you stop treating your sister like a child who needs carrying?"
Hannah immediately pressed her cheek against Jason's shoulder again. "But I *am* still a child, Mother."
Jason laughed. "Look at yourself. Acting like this isn't cute at all."
Hannah pulled back just far enough to give him a betrayed look. "Big brother, are you taking her side now?"
"Yes," he said, still smiling. "Are you going to take revenge?"
"You bet I will." She slipped free of his arms, backed toward the tent, and paused at the flap to shoot him a slow, cunning smile. "You'd better watch out, big brother. I'm going to hit you really hard when you least expect it."
Jason felt an involuntary shiver run down his arms. He watched her disappear inside, then shook his head with a long-suffering sigh.
"That little rascal… I have no idea what she's planning, but I'm going to have to stay alert."
Clara's soft laugh drew his attention back. She stepped closer, reached up, and rested her thin fingers lightly against the side of his neck, feeling the stronger pulse of energy there. When she spoke, her voice carried quiet wonder.
"Your training truly paid off. Fourth layer of the tempered body… in only two days. Most would need months."
Jason's smile turned a little sheepish. "It was mostly luck, Mother."
"Luck had nothing to do with it," Clara said firmly. "It was hard work. Don't diminish that."
"Yes, Mother."
She studied him a moment longer. "Have you made progress with the Phantom Kick?"
Jason rubbed the back of his neck. "Not mastery. It's difficult. The first time I tried to force it I nearly broke my own leg." He gave an awkward laugh. "But that was before the breakthrough. I believe I can learn it properly now."
Clara nodded once. "Good. Because time is short. Ten days remain until the tournament begins."
"That should be enough to get a solid grip on the technique."
"Don't grow cocky," she warned, though her eyes remained soft. "A technique is not a technique if it can be mastered overnight. Don't rush and cripple yourself."
"I have my own methods," Jason said. "I won't push past what the body can take."
Clara accepted the answer with a small nod. Then she reached into her sleeve and produced two low-grade spirit stones, pressing them into his palm.
"I was going to send Hannah to the market for a few herbs, but since you're here, take care of it. The list is simple—I'll tell you exactly what I need."
Jason listened carefully, tucked the stones away, and set off toward the outer market while a little daylight still remained.
---
The market stalls were beginning to close when he finished his purchases. The small bundle of dried herbs was tucked securely inside his robe. He had taken only a few steps onto the quieter path leading back toward the outer camps when four figures stepped out of the shadows between the last stalls and blocked the way.
Andrew Fox stood in the center, arms folded, the same lazy, predatory smile he always wore when he had found something entertaining to break. His three usual followers flanked him, already grinning.
Jason stopped. His expression flattened.
"What do you want this time?"
Andrew's smile widened. "Nothing much, loser. It's been too long since I saw you around. My arms were starting to itch. Figured I'd warm them up on you."
His friends laughed on cue.
Jason kept his voice even. "I don't want trouble, Andrew. Just let me pass."
Andrew glanced at his companions with exaggerated surprise. "Did you hear that? He called me by name. The little mutt's grown himself some wings."
One of the boys chuckled. "He sure has, boss. Maybe we should remind him how things work around here."
Jason felt the familiar cold weight settle in his stomach—the knowledge that talk would not be enough this time. He quietly shifted the herb bundle deeper into his robe so it would not be crushed and settled his weight onto the balls of his feet. The new density of the fourth layer hummed quietly under his skin. He was no longer the same boy they had beaten into the dirt weeks ago.
Andrew's eyes glittered. "I think you're right. Let's teach him a lesson he won't forget for the rest of his life."
Jason's voice dropped. "I'm warning you. I don't want to fight. Walk away."
None of them moved.
The path was narrow. The evening light was almost gone. And for the first time since the night the McCray compound burned, Jason did not feel the same helpless dread when facing Andrew Fox and his pack.
He simply waited for them to make the first move.