Jane wasn’t about to give up just because I wanted to flirt. Her eyes narrowed with defiance, a flicker of annoyance flashing in them as she lunged forward, two fingers aimed mercilessly for my eye. I jerked back instinctively, bent my knee, and drove it into her chest in one smooth motion, forcing a sharp exhale from her lungs. The impact knocked her clean off her feet.

  She hit the ground, sliding back several feet across the arena floor. Her boots left faint trails as she came to a stop, one hand clutching her chest. Her breathing was ragged, and her fingers trembled slightly from the shock of the blow. Oops. I forgot to hold back. I dropped my gaze, guilt sinking in like a lead weight. She must be done fighting...

  But then—Jane grit her teeth, her jaw clenched tight as if she could chew through the pain. Her muscles tensed, and she forced herself upright with trembling determination. No way! That was a full-power kick! That would mean her durability surpasses even...

  Jane suddenly dropped to her right knee, her breath hitching as her strength gave out again. She slammed a fist into the concrete, her shoulders rising and falling as she glared bitterly at the ground beneath her.

  I jogged over, concern and regret knotting in my chest. "Sorry, I should've held back."

  She looked up at me, her eyes filled not with blame—but self-loathing. "I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at my weakness."

  Oh come on, is she serious? I don’t mean to doubt what she feels, but she’s almost reached her goal.

  Emma—I mean.

  Just as I thought of her, she arrived on the scene, her footsteps light but confident as she stepped up next to Caleb in the small spectator's arrangement at the edge of the training grounds. She stood beside him with an air of quiet pride, her gaze drifting over the arena.

  I could hear her voice carry over the wind. "I got here just in time. It's good to be back with you, Caleb."

  Yumi, lounging lazily on her lawn chair nearby, lifted her sunglasses and smiled warmly. "We're glad to have you back too, Emma. How was working under Vellin?"

  Emma’s expression shifted into something far more mischievous, her lips curving in a suggestive smirk. "He taught me many things..."

  She said it in a low, suggestive tone, each word dripping with implication—like I did... that.

  Jane did not ignore this.

  "What did you just say?!" Jane shot to her feet, fury flaring in her eyes as the energy inside her surged to life, crackling faintly with unrestrained power. Her stance widened, shoulders squaring.

  Emma adjusted her glasses with a calm, deliberate touch, her smirk never fading. "I said he taught me many things. You know what I mean by things, right?"

  Caleb’s eyes locked onto me, his whole body tensing. His killing intent poured off him like heat from an open flame—oppressive, sharp, and focused solely on me.

  I shrugged, raising my hands slightly in innocent protest. "I didn't do anything." What the hell is she doing? She was relaxed on the ride home. I didn’t expect her to act like this.

  Jane didn’t wait. She jabbed a finger down at the concrete arena floor. "Get the hell up here now. I'll teach you a lesson in manners."

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  Emma’s smirk widened as she slid her left foot back, grounding herself for a burst of movement. "No, Jane, I'll teach you the lesson here!"

  With that, Emma took off—her body snapping forward like a fired arrow. She crossed the gap in a blink, kicked off the arena edge, and launched herself high into the air. The sun caught her form mid-jump, casting a sharp silhouette against the bright sky.

  Jane didn’t flinch. She stood tall, bracing herself, and pulled her arm back with precision. Her muscles coiled tight. She turned slightly, knees bent, center low.

  Emma’s descent was a blur of motion. She twisted sideways in the air, her legs spinning like a cyclone, the wind howling in protest around her rotating limbs.

  The moment of impact neared—suddenly, a blur ripped through the space between them. A shockwave pulsed out as the figure landed with uncanny speed and fluidity, halting both attacks in an instant.

  My instincts screamed. I dropped into a guarded stance before my mind caught up with my body. That blur—who had just intercepted both a flying kick and a loaded punch—wasn't just anyone.

  His hands were extended, one catching Emma’s leg mid-spin, the other stopping Jane’s clenched fist inches from his face. His hair fluttered slightly from the impact wind, his expression unreadable but calm in a way that made the skin crawl.

  I recognized him. It was Finn. Known to most by his feared title. The Maniac. The Third Flame.

  Finn’s hands moved so fast I couldn’t see them. No windup. No blur. Just motionless space—then impact. I can't see anything this guy does! All that resulted from whatever he'd done was Jane and Emma flying backward, as if an invisible blast had torn through the air. Jane's body was about to slam hard against the ground, but I moved on reflex, diving forward. I caught her in my arms, bracing her carefully to keep her from hitting the floor too harshly.

  Caleb had reacted just as fast, his form vanishing and reappearing beneath Emma, arms outstretched. He caught her just before she would have collided with the arena edge. She grunted but didn't resist.

  Finn stood at the center of it all—his arms now relaxed at his sides, head cocked slightly with a playful frown, like a disappointed parent scolding misbehaving kids. His voice echoed with mocking delight. "What happened?! Weren’t we having fun?!"

  I helped Jane to her feet, steadying her weight as she stood shakily. "Finn, this isn’t a good first impression."

  Emma freed herself from Caleb’s grip without a word, brushing herself off and walking away. Her stride was stiff, jaw clenched. Whatever game she'd been playing was over now. Caleb watched her go for a moment before turning to face Finn again, expression stone-cold.

  I walked forward with him, each step heavy with tension. Caleb pulled up his sleeve, his tone low but sharp. "You always go too far, Finn."

  I raised my hand, holding it out just slightly, blood hot with anger. "If Jane is hurt at all..."

  Finn was already gone.

  It was like he'd flickered out of existence. All that remained was a small black footprint burned into the floor where he'd stood—smoking faintly. A sound followed: the soft creak of a door hinge.

  I turned toward the source and saw him entering the Headquarters without a glance back. He waved lazily over his shoulder. "I’ll leave you losers to it then. I need to talk with Leo."

  Caleb’s jaw tightened. He rolled his sleeve back down, fists trembling. "That bastard... he’s what you were talking about, Vellin. He’s different from the others. He’s sadistic."

  I exhaled through my nose, swiping my arm down and shoving my hand into my pocket. "You still fine with how Sun is?"

  I descended the arena steps in silence, the adrenaline ebbing from my body. Yumi waved from her chair, her usual relaxed smile returning. "I’ll see you tomorrow, Vellin."

  Jane caught up behind me, breath slightly uneven. "Did you do—?"

  I groaned, annoyed by the question more than anything. "No, of course not. I don’t know what her problem is."

  Six hours later..

  I lay in bed, eyes open, staring up at the ceiling, while Jane slept quietly next to me. The room was dim, lit only by the soft blue glow of the nightlight across the room. I couldn't sleep. My thoughts were a whirlpool—tight and dragging me down. I’ve been waiting for Zero’s response to my letter. It should’ve arrived a long time ago. I guess I have to wait.

  Something shifted. A weight in the air. A chill pricked the base of my neck.

  I felt it. Killing intent. And not just any killing intent. It was on the level of Endo’s. A transcended is in this room.

  I turned around instantly, senses flaring.

  A figure stood in the room, draped in darkness like he’d stepped out of shadow itself. A black knife gleamed in the faint light, its edge just a hair’s breadth from Jane’s throat. Her breath hitched in her sleep, but she didn’t wake.

  His voice rasped out, low and unnatural, as if it didn’t belong to a human throat. "Listen to what I’m about to say, Vellin."

  Who... and what is he?!