The three arrive at one of the larger inner courts in the cadet wing of the main crater complex. It is paved and open to the sky, enclosed on all sides by a colonnade whose upper levels give way to floor after floor of cadet living quarters, their windows looking down over the space below.
Over forty young cadets fill the space — ages twelve to fifteen by the look of them — gathered in loose clusters, talking among themselves, waiting. They carry themselves with the early posture of basic training: straight backs, attentive eyes, the unconscious discipline of children who have recently learned what standing properly means.
Yona crosses to one side of the court, Lleuad beside her, and faces them. Her gaze moves to a clock mounted above the colonnade. The moment the hour turns, her voice fills the space entirely.
"Attention, Cadets!"
Every conversation stops. Every face turns.
"All of you have been given a new home here at the Everwatch. And just like everyone else, you will be taught how to fight for that home — and how to survive in this world."
She pauses, scanning the room. Most are standing straight. A few, toward the back, are beginning to drift — their attention wandering by degrees, their efforts to conceal it earnest but imperfect.
"Today you will be learning the basics of Aura — the most crucial component of your combat effectiveness. As you should all already know..." Her eyes settle briefly on a few notorious slackers, and they find their posture improving without being told. "Aura is an energy source present in all living creatures. When awakened in a person, it forms a thin layer around the body that acts as a shield — protecting them from nearly anything that can be thrown at them." She pauses. "Just like this."
In one motion, Yona unholsters a battle axe and swings it at Lleuad with full force, giving him no time to prepare. The blade connects with his chest dead on. The shockwave rolls back against the colonnade behind them — a concussive crack that draws gasps from the cadets. But the axe does not cut. Something stops it: a transparent film, barely visible, that catches the light for just a moment at the point of impact before fading again.
Lleuad steps back with the force of the blow, finds his footing, and stands steady. He looks entirely unharmed.
Yona holsters the axe. "If you kept your eyes open, you saw it. That film around him is an Aura shield. Its durability depends on the amount of Aura the person possesses — at minimum, it will absorb one lethal blow. Falls from height, impacts against walls — none of it will cause serious harm as long as the shield holds."
She steps forward and begins moving through the cadets, passing each of them in turn. "Furthermore, Aura enhances your physical capabilities — jumping higher, striking harder, lifting what you otherwise could not. The degree varies from person to person, but all of you will gain something from it. Be aware of the cost, however. Every blow you absorb drains your reserves. When they run low the shield breaks, and with it go your enhanced capabilities. The shield will return once your Aura replenishes — but if it breaks during a fight, do not count on getting it back."
The Keybearer moves to the rear of the group and retrieves a wooden training sword from the rack there. "Since becoming cadets, your training has been aimed at unlocking your Aura shields. Some of you have already succeeded. In time, the rest will as well. This is not a gift reserved for a few."
She returns to the front, where Lleuad is standing. "What you will spend most of your time learning in this class is Aura manipulation — moving the shield around your body and concentrating it where it is needed. This reduces what you expend on defense and becomes critical in combat against both Grimm and those who can manipulate Aura themselves."
She looks at Lleuad. He recognizes the signal and draws his Aura forward, concentrating it across the back of his right hand. The shield becomes faintly visible there — a pale wash of white, gathered and still.
"The more concentrated the Aura, the more visible it becomes." Yona gestures toward the hand. "At sufficient proficiency, you can extend this to the weapons you carry."
She tosses the training sword to Lleuad. He catches it, points it forward, and shifts the Aura from his hand into the blade. The white tint follows, settling along the wood.
Yona draws her axe and brings it down on the sword. The blade holds.
"While this effectively shields the weapon from damage, that is not the main value of this technique." She lets the axe rest against the wood. "A weapon carrying your Aura can bypass an opponent's shield entirely — removing the need to break it down first. To achieve this, the Aura concentrated at the point of impact must be more than double what your opponent has applied."
She begins drawing her own Aura to the tip of the axe where it meets the training sword — a light caramel tint building slowly, visible to the watching cadets. For a moment nothing changes. Then the color deepens, passes twice the brightness of Lleuad's white sheen, and the axe blade sinks into the wood.
With a casual flick of her wrist, Yona cuts the sword cleanly in half.
The cadets stare.
"In most engagements, those who can do this hold a decisive advantage over those who cannot. Against Grimm — who have no capacity for Aura manipulation — it is especially effective. Learning this is not optional."
She lets the silence settle, then continues. "Once you grasp this, you will learn to switch your concentration rapidly between offence and defense. The majority of your training time will be spent on exactly that."
Another pause.
"There is one further purpose to this training. Through sustained Aura manipulation, some of you may unlock your Semblance. Everyone carries the potential. Some of you have already found it. Semblances are not secondary — they are central to how you will fight. They shape your style, and depending on what yours is, they can be the difference between victory and defeat. No two are alike, and we cannot predict what yours will be until it surfaces."
"Lleuad!"
A Specter emerges out of thin air behind Lleuad — materializing without sound or warning, drawing every eye in the court. It takes the form of a floating silvery-white mantle complete with sleeves and gloves, as though an unseen presence has chosen to make itself partially known through the clothes it wears — its form shifting and resettling through the air as if it has not yet decided what shape it prefers. Where a ghost's face would be, an intricately carved silver mask hovers above the collar, still and composed against the restless white beneath it.
The mark on Lleuad's forehead peels away from his skin and rises — drawn upward as though reclaimed — and reforms above his head as a shattered crown of similarly intricate design as the mask, its fragments suspended in slow rotation.
Beside Yona, something altogether different takes shape. A bear — blackish-brown, massive, its presence landing in the court with a solidity the Specter entirely lacks. Its claws are long and sharp. When it rises to its full height it stands taller than Yona herself, who already clears seven feet by some margin. Yona does not change. She simply stands beside it.
"My assistant and I share similar Semblances," Yona says, her voice carrying over the stunned silence of the court. "We each summon a companion to fight alongside us. But they differ considerably. My bear hits harder. The Specter excels at defense and immobilizing enemies. On average, one in three cadets will unlock a Semblance. When that happens, your training becomes more individual — built around what you can do." She looks along the row of faces. "The ranking system of the Everwatch reflects your strength. Work hard enough, and you can reach Slayer — the level at which you become capable of standing against the Count's elite forces."
She surveys the group. "Any questions?"
A girl raises her hand. Small, slight, her uniform hanging slightly loose at the shoulders. "Will I be able to get as strong as you?" Her voice is careful, as though she is not entirely sure she should be asking.
Yona looks at her for a moment. Then a wide smile breaks across her face. "Of course you can."
The girl lights up.
An older boy raises his hand. "What happens if I just... keep focusing the Aura?"
"A keen question," Yona remarks with a proud grin. "Show them, Lleuad."
Lleuad raises his right hand and draws his Aura down to a single point — the tip of his index finger. Slowly, a small orb forms there, silvery-white, compact and still. The cadets lean in, mesmerized.
"This takes considerable training before it becomes usable in combat," Yona explains, "and it requires a significant amount of Aura to produce even what you see now. Most people will not have enough reserves to use it effectively in a fight. But for those who can—" She nods to Lleuad.
He begins to expand it. The orb grows, and then shifts — flattening into a disc, a shield, solid and curved. Then contracting, reshaping into a spike. The cadets watch with open delight.
Another boy raises his hand. "Why does your helper have grey eyes?"
Heads nod around him — the question clearly has the agreement of the group, who have been watching Lleuad's unusual appearance with barely concealed curiosity since the lesson began.
Yona smiles. "Those are silver eyes. They belong to an ancient group of warriors — and they carry something with them."
As if on cue, silver flames rise in Lleuad's eyes, consuming the grey and burning with a light entirely their own.
A collective sound moves through the cadets — not quite a gasp, not quite a cheer, somewhere between the two.
Lleuad draws his sidesword. The flames spread from his eyes to the blade, running the length of it in a clean and luminous silver.
"Those flames," Yona says, "turn any Grimm they touch to stone. None of them can withstand it."
A hand goes up. "Are there other warriors as powerful as him?"
Yona's demeanour shifts — just briefly, just enough. Something moves across her face before she answers. "They fought bravely for the sake of humanity, every one of them, and perished at the hands of the Count. They stood strong against him until the very end. It is our duty to carry on in their place. Grow into warriors worthy of their example."
"Yes, teacher!" The cadets reply as one.
The weight lifts from Yona's face as quickly as it arrived. "Now — time for practice. Those who have not yet unlocked an Aura shield continue the standard drills. The rest begin Aura manipulation exercises."
As the group fractures into smaller circles, Yona turns to Lleuad. "Thanks for your help today. Gunter raised you well."
Lleuad watches the children for a moment. "They're remarkable. All that life in them. The Everwatch is doing well by them."
Yona nods in silent gratitude and begins to walk toward the struggling students. She pauses after a few steps, glancing back over her shoulder. "I like your new image. It suits you."
"Thank you for the kind words," Lleuad responds, dipping his head before joining her among the cadets.
Nearby, Jean, who has been watching the lecture from the shadows of the colonnade, steps forward to assist as well.
— — —
When the class ends and the cadets are dismissed, Yona makes her way back Lleuad and Jean. "You've both been a great help today. Let me return the favor — dessert at the cafeteria."
Lleuad's answer comes without hesitation. "I won't say no to that."
— — —
As the three make their way back through the hallways toward the cafeteria, Jean ventures a question. "Ms. Ahwi — you mentioned earlier that Lleuad was a gloomy child when you last saw him. I'd be curious to hear more."
"Ah. Yes." Yona thinks back. "Very quiet. Kept to himself entirely. The first time I saw him, his eyes were completely lifeless — as though a bottomless void filled them. That was when Gunter first brought him to the Headquarters." She glances at Lleuad. "Eight or nine years ago now. Am I right?"
"That's correct."
"And no wonder," she continues. "He had it rough. I don't know the details of how Gunter found him, but I know that by around fourteen he was already in the thick of it — fighting on the Anima continent." She looks at him sidelong, studying him for a moment as they walk. "Honestly, seeing you now, I'm still a little surprised. What happened in these past four years that changed you so much?"
Lleuad smiles. "Many things. Unfortunately, I'm not at liberty to discuss them."
The words have barely settled when the double doors of the cafeteria appear before him.
Jean and Yona each take one side and push them wide open.
The crowd is the first thing Lleuad sees — people gathered thick around the entrance, faces turned toward the doors. Then a sharp pop, and confetti bursts across the room in a wide shower, catching the light as it falls.
"Welcome home!"
The words roll out into the hallway. Lleuad's expression moves through a brief flicker of surprise before settling into a quiet smile, his eyes catching the light with something warm and unguarded.
The Director rolls forward through the crowd toward him. "It sounds as though your day has already been quite eventful." His gaze moves briefly to Yona with the expression of a man who has identified exactly who is responsible.
"It was a lot of fun," Lleuad replies, reaching out to accept a mug that Chef extends toward him without a word.
"Good. I hope you will relax and enjoy the party we've prepared for you." Isaac turns to face the room, his voice carrying without being raised. "Tonight we celebrate. One of our dearest has come home from the most dangerous place in Remnant. Let's spend this evening well — eating, drinking, enjoying each other's company." He lifts his mug. "A toast. To all who are out there holding back the darkness. For the Everwatch."
"For the Everwatch!" the crowd exclaims in unison, the phrase reverberating off the walls of the cafeteria.
The room comes alive all at once. Conversations start up, plates begin moving, the cafeteria fills with the noise of people at ease.
"Thank you," Lleuad says quietly.
"I wish we could keep this going for days." Isaac's voice is soft now, the warmth still present but something else threaded through it. "Hopefully this darkness lifts before too long. And when it does — we'll all get the rest we've earned."
Lleuad watches something move through Isaac's eyes as he looks out at the crowd — a weight that the celebration does not quite reach. Lleuad turns to face the room himself, the same quiet understanding settling over him. For several moments, the two of them simply observe the party, no further words required.
— — —
Night has settled over the headquarters. The party ended hours ago, its participants long since turned in. Lleuad wanders the hallways without particular direction — the corridors quieter now, the night shift moving through them in smaller numbers, their footsteps carrying further in the stillness.
Eventually he finds himself in the main square. He stops and looks up. The crater frames a piece of sky, and through it the moon hangs full and still, its silver light falling in a clean column and pooling across the stone below. Lleuad closes his eyes and turns his face into it, the glow settling over him as he sinks into a stillness that borders on a trance.
"You're up late."
The familiar cold voice pulls him back. Lleuad opens his eyes and turns to find Brandur standing beside him — paused, as though caught mid-task. His expression is unchanged from what it was in the director's office, his fiery auburn gaze fixing directly on Lleuad, taking measure of him.
"Brandur." Lleuad offers a disarming smile. "Just admiring the view."
Nothing in Brandur's expression moves. "The moon?" A glance upward, then back. "The crater is not the most favorable vantage point for it. You should get some rest. The exam is early tomorrow."
His tone carries no warmth. The words might have, in another person. In Brandur they arrive as plain fact — and no less meant for it.
"Thank you." Lleuad replies, the warmth in his voice entirely undiminished by the temperature he is receiving. "I'll be fine. No matter where I am, the moon never loses its luster for me."
"As long as it doesn't affect your performance tomorrow." Brandur holds his gaze a moment, then continues on his way.
Lleuad watches him go. Then he turns back to the sky. The moon drifts on its course and slides beyond the crater rim, its light withdrawing from the square by degrees until the stone beneath his feet is dark again.
He considers the empty sky for a moment, then turns and makes his way back to his quarters for the night.