The sun pressed down harder now.
Heat clung to the sand. Every breath felt dry.
Saijew stood still, watching.
Magnolia rolled his shoulders once. The faint lightning scar along his side pulsed. Subtle, but there.
A reminder.
"Again," Saijew said.
Magnolia moved.
Sharp. Direct.
He closed distance fast, feet cutting clean lines through the sand. A straight strike toward Saijew's chest.
Saijew shifted. Barely.
The strike missed.
Magnolia followed immediately.
Elbow. Turn. Low kick.
Saijew blocked. Efficient. Minimal effort.
But his eyes narrowed.
Magnolia pressed harder.
Feint high. Step in. Shoulder check.
Impact.
Saijew slid half a step back.
Not much.
Enough.
Silence.
Magnolia breathed heavier.
Saijew studied him.
"You overcommit," Saijew said.
Magnolia frowned. "I was landing."
"You were exposing yourself," Saijew replied. "You move like every strike must end the fight."
Magnolia didn't answer.
Saijew stepped forward.
"Again."
Magnolia reset.
This time, slower.
He stepped in. Threw a strike.
Pulled back.
Tested distance.
Saijew attacked.
A fast jab.
Magnolia leaned just enough.
Not wide. Not wasteful.
He countered. Quick. Clean.
Saijew blocked.
Magnolia kept rhythm.
In. Out.
Strike. Reset.
His movements tightened. Controlled. Deliberate.
Saijew increased speed.
Sharper strikes. Less space.
Magnolia adjusted.
A low sweep came.
Magnolia stepped back. No panic.
He countered.
Contact.
Saijew stopped.
A pause.
"Better," Saijew said.
Magnolia exhaled through his nose.
Saijew stepped back.
"Now," he said, "with your power."
Magnolia hesitated for half a second.
Then raised his arm.
The contract activated.
A faint glow built.
Steady.
The lightning mark flared.
Bright.
Violent.
Saijew's eyes sharpened instantly.
The energy twisted.
Snapped.
Sparks burst from Magnolia's arm, erratic and unstable.
Magnolia staggered.
"What is-"
The energy surged harder.
Wild.
Uncontrolled.
And Saijew froze.
For a moment..
He wasn't here.
…
A flash.
Blinding light.
Baron's arm raised.
Lightning tearing through the air.
Magnolia's body taking the hit.
The sound. The force. The smell of burning sand.
That same energy.
That same distortion.
Saijew's jaw tightened.
"Stop it," he said sharply.
Magnolia couldn't.
His vision blurred.
His balance slipped.
The sparks crawled up his arm, snapping violently.
His body felt unstable.
Like it was rejecting itself
A voice.
Cold.
Precise.
Inside his head.
"Fault."
Everything collapsed.
Magnolia dropped.
Knee hitting the sand.
Silence swallowed everything.
"Boy!"
The word cut through.
Magnolia's eyes snapped open.
He sucked in air.
Saijew stood over him, grip tight on his shoulder, steadying him.
The energy was gone.
But the mark still faintly glowed.
Saijew stared at it.
Not calm anymore.
Focused.
Sharp.
Dangerously aware.
Magnolia's hand trembled.
"I… I couldn't control it," he said, breath uneven.
Saijew didn't respond immediately.
His gaze stayed on the mark.
"Not couldn't," Saijew said.
A beat.
"Something interfered."
Magnolia looked up.
Saijew finally met his eyes.
And for once, there was something under the discipline.
Concern.
"Baron's strike," Saijew said quietly. "He left more than damage."
Magnolia clenched his fist.
That word still echoed.
Fault.
Saijew released his shoulder.
"Get up," he said.
Magnolia pushed himself to his feet.
Unsteady.
But standing.
Saijew stepped back.
"Again," he said.
No hesitation.
No softness.
But his stance had changed.
More guarded.
Because now.
This wasn't training.
Something was wrong.
Saijew's eyes stayed fixed on Magnolia's side.
"Lift your shirt," he said.
Magnolia exhaled and raised it.
The lightning mark burned across his skin, jagged and deep, carved in uneven lines. Around it, an orange glow pressed outward, slow and strained as if fighting against something it could not move.
Saijew stepped closer.
This time, he understood.
His gaze sharpened.
"It's a restriction."
Magnolia looked up. "A what?"
"That mark is not only damage," Saijew said. "It limits your output."
The orange glow flared slightly, pushing forward for a brief moment before snapping back, like something unseen forced it into place.
"Your power is trying to expand," Saijew continued, his voice steady. "The lightning is forcing it back."
Magnolia lowered his shirt.
Silence settled between them.
Saijew stepped back into position.
"Activate your contract again."
Magnolia didn't move.
A pause stretched, thin but heavy.
"Give me a minute."
Saijew didn't react.
Magnolia turned and walked off the field without waiting for a response.
No argument.
No resistance.
Saijew watched him leave, his posture unchanged as he remained exactly where he stood.
Waiting.
Magnolia moved through the corridors at a steady pace, passing empty halls and silent stone that seemed to absorb every step he took.
He found a room.
Small. Isolated.
He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, the sound closing him off from everything else.
Silence took over.
He leaned against the wall for a moment, steadying his breathing as his thoughts pressed in all at once.
After a second, he pushed himself forward and sat down.
Cross-legged.
Hands resting on his knees.
His eyes closed slowly.
At first, there was nothing but noise.
Fragments of thought. Tension. The lingering burn beneath his skin.
A memory surfaced.
Clear.
His father's voice.
Steady. Grounded.
"Calm your mind, then your body will follow."
Magnolia's breathing slowed.
In.
Out.
The tightness in his shoulders eased, and the faint flicker of the mark softened with it.
The memory held.
His father standing in front of him, composed, certain, not offering advice but stating something absolute.
A rule.
Magnolia focused on that feeling and let everything else fall away.
The pain dulled.
The frustration loosened.
Even the word.
Fault.
faded to the edge of his thoughts.
He pushed deeper, past the noise and past himself, searching for something older, something heavier that sat beyond his own control.
"Ra…" Magnolia said quietly.
Nothing answered.
Still, he remained there, unmoving, focused, waiting for something to respond.
Back in the training hall, Saijew stood alone.
Unmoving.
Footsteps approached, light but controlled.
Ren.
He stopped a few feet away and said nothing.
His eyes shifted from Saijew to the wrist brace.
New.
Different.
Seth's.
Ren's gaze lingered longer than it should have, questions forming but never leaving his mouth.
Saijew didn't look at him, but he was aware.
"You're staring," Saijew said.
Ren's expression barely changed.
"What happened back then?" he asked, his voice calm but direct.
Saijew turned slightly, though not enough to fully face him.
"Training."
Ren's eyes narrowed, unconvinced.
"What happens now?"
"What we've been doing.. Surviving."
Ren's gaze dropped briefly to his own wrist brace before returning to Saijew, something unsettled sitting just beneath his calm exterior.
He didn't press further.
He only watched.
Thinking.
Far from Egypt, hidden between mountain walls, the air carried a different weight.
Still.
Heavy with thought.
Athena's Library of Unsolved Riddles stood in silence, its vast interior filled not with books but with puzzles that lined every surface.
Walls carved with shifting inscriptions.
Artifacts humming with quiet, unnatural energy.
At the center, Chloe stood.
Small in stature, yet impossible to overlook.
Her blonde hair curved outward at the ends, forming a precise and elegant shape that framed her sharp features. Purple eyes remained locked on the construct before her, focused and analytical, breaking down every movement it made.
A piece hovered in front of her.
Floating.
Rotating slowly as layered symbols folded into one another in patterns that refused simple logic.
She watched.
Measured.
Waited.
Footsteps echoed behind her, steady and deliberate.
Alexander.
He approached without hesitation and stopped a few steps behind her.
"Chloe."
She didn't turn.
"Speak."
Direct.
He respected that.
"One of your students," Alexander said, allowing a brief pause before continuing, "Selena."
The name shifted something.
Subtle.
Almost invisible.
Chloe's eyes stopped tracking the puzzle, though her body remained facing forward.
"…Continue."
Alexander's tone stayed even.
"She died in battle."
Silence spread through the space, pressing against the walls as the artifact in front of Chloe flickered once before stabilizing again.
Her reflection remained faint in its surface.
Still.
Controlled.
But not untouched.
"When?" Chloe asked.
"During the last engagement."
No added detail.
No attempt at comfort.
Chloe turned.
Her gaze met his, sharp and precise as she processed the information, prioritizing clarity over reaction.
"Cause."
Alexander held her gaze.
"Overwhelmed. Outmatched."
A brief pause followed.
Chloe's eyes lowered slightly, not out of weakness but calculation as she absorbed what that meant.
"Understood."
She turned back to the puzzle.
Her movements resumed, though slower at first, almost imperceptible unless someone was looking for it.
Alexander watched her for a moment longer before speaking again.
"She fought well."
Chloe didn't respond.
Her hand lifted.
The puzzle reacted immediately, shifting faster now, movements sharper and more deliberate as more force entered each adjustment.
Control remained.
But tighter.
More rigid.
Alexander said nothing else.
He turned and left her there.
The library returned to silence.
But something within it had shifted.
The desert stretched in silence.
Heat lingered over the ruined base, bending the air above fractured stone and scorched sand. What remained stood broken, pieces of structure half-buried and blackened from the attack.
A distortion opened.
A thin tear in space.
It widened just enough.
Sous stepped through first.
Solid. Unshaken.
His eyes scanned the field immediately.
Behind him, Abraham followed, adjusting his glasses as his gaze moved across the destruction with quiet focus.
Kibo emerged next, silent as ever, already mapping exits, angles, shadows.
Valentina stepped out last, her posture reserved, her eyes narrowing slightly at the sight.
The portal closed behind them.
Gone.
No way back unless called.
Sous walked forward a few steps, boots pressing into loose sand.
"Spread," he said.
No wasted words.
Kibo moved first, slipping along the edge of the ruins, staying low, eyes sharp.
Valentina took the opposite side, slower, cautious, scanning for movement or traps.
Abraham remained central, already analyzing patterns in the damage.
"This wasn't random," Abraham said quietly. "The strikes were targeted."
Sous didn't look back. "We know."
Abraham crouched, brushing ash aside with his fingers.
"Energy residue is inconsistent," he continued. "Multiple sources. At least two high-level contracts."
Valentina's voice cut in from a distance. "Nothing living."
Kibo's voice followed, low. "Not yet."
Sous stopped.
Something felt off.
Too quiet.
Far off from the ruins, hidden beyond fractured stone.
Two figures watched.
Valerie stood with her arms crossed, posture firm, eyes locked onto the group below.
Calix stood beside her, still, composed, his gaze darker, heavier.
"They sent them," Valerie said, her voice tight.
Calix didn't answer immediately.
His eyes stayed on the four figures moving through the wreckage.
"They're young," Valerie continued, frustration pressing through her tone. "Too young."
Calix exhaled slowly.
"I know."
The air around him felt colder.
Subtle.
Barely noticeable.
But present.
Valerie's fingers tightened slightly against her arm.
A faint shift followed her movement, like something unseen responded to her emotion, soft and fleeting.
"They shouldn't be here," she said.
Calix finally spoke.
"They won't be for long."
Valerie glanced at him.
He didn't look at her.
His focus stayed locked on the scouts below.
"Observe first," he said. "We act when we understand the situation."
Valerie didn't argue.
But her gaze sharpened.
Protective.
Not of the mission.
Of the children.
The training hall remained still.
Saijew hadn't moved.
Ren stood across from him, arms relaxed at his sides, eyes steady.
Silence stretched long enough to become intentional.
Ren broke it.
"The wrist brace," he said. "What is it?"
Saijew didn't respond.
Not immediately.
Ren stepped closer.
"The one I took from Ahn."
That got a reaction.
Small.
But real.
Saijew's posture tightened.
Barely.
"What about it?" Saijew asked.
Ren lifted his arm slightly, glancing at the brace.
"It feels… different," he said. "Not like the others."
Saijew's gaze locked onto it.
Sharp.
Focused.
Concern surfaced, controlled but unmistakable.
"Remove it," Saijew said.
Ren didn't.
"Why?"
Saijew stepped forward.
"Remove it."
The tone changed.
Not a suggestion.
Ren's eyes narrowed slightly.
Suspicion.
But he unclasped it halfway, not fully removing it.
Saijew watched closely.
Too closely.
Something about it wasn't right.
He knew it.
But he said nothing more.
Not yet.
"Keep it sealed," Saijew said instead. "Do not activate it."
Ren studied him.
"You're not explaining anything."
"No," Saijew replied.
A beat.
"You don't need the explanation. You need the order."
Ren held his gaze.
Then slowly secured the brace again.
But the question stayed.
Heavy.
Unanswered.
Elsewhere in the compound.
The Pharaoh stood before the remaining children.
Poison leaned slightly forward, already impatient.
Matthew stood straight, arms at his sides, disciplined as ever.
Emma shifted nervously, her hands clasped together.
Luna stood calm, eyes attentive.
Sofia stayed quiet, close to the back.
Amelia offered a small, encouraging smile to Emma, though her own focus stayed on the Pharaoh.
Magnolia was absent.
The Pharaoh noticed.
But continued.
"There is movement beyond our borders," the Pharaoh said, his voice calm but carrying weight. "While others scout the ruins, you will secure what remains."
Poison smirked. "Finally."
Matthew didn't react.
"What kind of movement?" he asked.
"Unknown," the Pharaoh replied. "Which is why you will proceed with caution."
Luna nodded slightly.
"We're not engaging unless necessary?"
"Correct."
Emma swallowed. "What if it becomes necessary?"
The Pharaoh's gaze shifted to her.
"It will not be by choice."
That didn't comfort her.
Amelia placed a hand lightly on Emma's shoulder.
Sofia watched silently.
Poison cracked his knuckles. "If something shows up, I'm not holding back."
Matthew glanced at her. "You'll follow orders."
Poison grinned. "We'll see."
The Pharaoh raised a hand.
Silence returned instantly.
"You move as a unit," he said. "You return as a unit."
His eyes moved across each of them.
Measured.
Final.
"Do not fail that."
The group straightened.
Even Poison.
The message landed.
Magnolia remained still.
Breathing slow.
Controlled.
The world outside felt distant now.
Muted.
The mark on his side flickered faintly beneath his shirt.
His focus held.
Deep.
Searching.
"Ra…" he said again, quieter this time.
The silence lingered.
Longer.
He didn't move.
Didn't break.
He stayed there.
Waiting for something ancient to answer.
Or for the silence to reveal why it wouldn't.