"Aaaugh… oh." Groaning and clutching his head, Myles blinked awake to see Clav and Verdure waiting nearby, both watching him expectantly.
Verdure chuckled. "You were out for twenty minutes. Someone needs to work on their punches." She threw Clav a teasing sideways glance.
Myles laughed and pushed himself upright. "No, it was fine—as far as I can tell."
Both of them stared at him, puzzled.
Myles grinned, crossing his arms smugly. "I thought you'd notice, Verdure. At the last second…"
Verdure's eyes narrowed slightly, then widened in realisation. "You put up a barrier." A faint smile touched her lips, tinged with pride. "Well, I'm impressed it held that well."
"Not as much as I'd have liked, though." Myles looked down at his arm, a faint shimmer of energy rippling across his skin. "You're a good teacher. I've been practising every day since then."
Verdure looked surprised; a smile crept across her face, caught somewhere between defeat and unease. She could see it clearly now—his control of Criole was raw and instinctive, like that of a wild animal. She had only ever taught him how to refine it. The thought unsettled her, because pulling off a split-second barrier like that was no small feat.
"We'll continue," she said, turning to Clav with a small, daring smile. "No mercy. He can take it."
Myles's muscles tensed on instinct—and in a blink, Clav's fist slammed into his gut. Myles threw up a barrier mid-punch, yet Clav's strength nearly tore through him. His body vanished beneath the canopy in a blur.
Verdure sat down on the cliff's edge and shuddered. It wasn't a fluke, she thought.
On the forest floor, Myles winced as he struggled to his feet. "At this rate, I'm going to start wishing for death," he muttered, releasing his swords. They hovered, ready and waiting.
A thunderous bang echoed through the forest as Clav's hooves crashed against Myles's forcefield-reinforced blades guarding his face.
Myles widened the distance between them and dropped into a defensive stance.
"Brute strength won't do anymore, huh?" Clav smiled, eyes fixed on him.
Myles kept his composure despite the pain in his fractured bones. He needed to focus to heal them faster. "No."
"Shame. I only recently started walking on two legs." Clav covered his face with his palm. "How am I supposed to fight someone with experience?"
"You seem fine to me." Myles shuddered at how elegantly and swiftly Clav moved. "You're rather light on your feet for a bull. What are you, anyway?"
"I am a…" He stopped himself. "Wait—why do you care?" He grinned as Criole gathered around his arms. Two massive, uneven maces formed, their molten-red glow leaving Myles in awe. "Yeah, that's right. You're my master, so I inherited a few things. However, you haven't proved yourself worthy."
Myles barely dodged Clav's sudden swing; the force of the mace sent a shockwave tearing through the surrounding area.
"There's a stage for our dance."
Are you kidding me? Myles thought, frustrated. He was moving those weapons as fast as his bare hands—it was as if their weight didn't matter. He was stupidly fast, too.
"Power and speed—impressive." Myles exhaled sharply, regaining focus. "You know, when I was a kid, I trained with swords because they looked cool." His composure returned, his stance tightening. "Here's the deal: it didn't end with childhood."
With a sudden burst of flame, he launched forward, discarding one sword and slashing in every direction. Clav froze, blood seeping from dozens of near-perfect cuts.
Myles's victory was short-lived. In the next instant, Clav's mace connected, hurling him sideways with brutal force.
"I can heal, too, you dumbass!" Clav shouted after him.
Myles smiled through the pain. "I was right—he definitely didn't inherit skill."
Before he hit the ground, Myles's body ignited, exploding into flames. The impact landed with a deafening bang. As the dust cleared, he stood wielding a single blade—sleek, refined, and far less like Criole energy. Its metallic lustre gleamed with impossible brilliance. The flames now burned hotter but remained confined to his shoulders, and his hair flowed as if suspended in water.
"Oh?" Verdure tilted her head, watching with quiet intrigue.
"Wow, you look intimidating," Clav grinned before surging forward, both maces driving his charge. Myles slipped aside in a blur and countered with a sharp kick to Clav's gut. The impact cracked the air—shockwaves rippling through the forest, scattering leaves like startled birds.
Clav coughed blood, wincing as he steadied himself. Then, with a wild smile, he looked up at Myles, who crouched slightly, his own grin fierce and bright.
"That's more like it."
Without hesitation, Clav hurled both maces. They screamed through the air like twin jets, but even before they reached him, Myles's form flickered. The weapons phased through his afterimage, detonating the trees behind him—not in two places, but four.
Oh, I see… Clav barely finished the thought before Myles's sword materialised with a breath from his throat.
"This is over," Myles said coldly, his voice steady as steel.
A sharp crack sounded behind him. Verdure stepped forward, holding a twig between her fingers, wearing a smile that bordered on playful malice.
"It's Christmas," she said sweetly. "My gift came early."
She slashed. Myles barely had time to parry—the clash sent him hurtling backwards, his sword ringing from the force.
Verdure lowered her arm and glanced at the twig. It had been cleanly severed in two. Her smile faded as she stared at the broken fragment in disbelief, then at Myles's unconscious body sprawled against the ground.
"Scary," she murmured.
She looked at Clav; he had also passed out. "Both of you."
"Your boyfriend—we all knew he was more than mortal, but we still brought him, did we not?" Kaelen asked her sister Lia, comfortably seated in an orthopaedic couch in Thia's room. The girls were holding a meeting on the subject of the mystery of Myles. Everybody was present except Verdure and Rai.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Lia asked.
"You made that call, on gut feeling no less," Thia interjected.
Lia huffed. "Well, I was right."
"Nobody will argue with that, but that decision is why we decided to tell you later," Thia continued.
"But…"
"You would have told us to stop." Terrene interrupted. "I want to help him, don't you?"
"Yes, of course."
"Then that's that. Forget about the necessary betrayal." Kaelen ended.
"So, what have we learnt?" Thia asked.
"Well, at first I thought the specimen was from an experiment, but it turns out the Scientist found it—or him—by chance," Terrene started.
"Wait, forget about Black D. What about the contents of Black Flame?" Kaelen interjected.
"Well, that one is like a fan book based on a hero or something. It is not clear. The book has been tampered with," Terrene responded.
Thia sighed. "So it's confirmed, the old man knows something."