In the darkness over Guarly four colored silhouettes run across the rooftops, leaping between buildings. The streets are quiet; patrol cars sweep the neighborhoods below. The four climb an antenna and look in different directions for anything suspicious, but nothing appears, so they drop back down onto a roof. The one in yellow clothing stomps the ground in frustration. The girl in blue approaches and asks, "What's wrong?" He pulls off his hood and face scarf and snaps, "I'm annoyed — we've had the katanas for over a week and there hasn't been a single criminal to stop!" The blue-clad girl raps him on the head and walks away to check her phone. Tyron, irritated, replies, "Why is that?" The light-blue-clad girl answers simply while watching the horizon: "You're too anxious. And if we're fighting less, it means Plata has reduced crime."
Emily tugs off her hood and scarf. "I don't think that's it."
Alexa and Tyron: "Then what is it?"
Emily, with watery eyes: "The city is only just recovering from the blow it took." She stares at the building lights.
Tyron: "What do you mean? If Guarly is calm that means it's improving."
Alexa, removing her hood and scarf: "She doesn't mean the city physically — she means the people."
Tyron: "That doesn't make sense either. Not long ago we stopped a jewelry store robbery."
Emily, letting a single tear fall: "Do you see people as okay? Many families were hurt by what Maximus did. People don't trust schools or the police to have protected their children. If we had been smarter and stronger…"
Tyron swallows. "That's true, but in the end we captured the one responsible, so people got justice."
Alexa hugs Emily. "You know the culprit was killed in the police station — it's all over the city websites. The schools didn't notice the students' changes, the police couldn't keep the criminal behind bars, and we only managed to stop him after his plan had already unfolded."
Tyron joins the hug, shedding a couple of tears. "You're right. The worst part is that some people take advantage to profit."
Francesca, reading her phone: "And that's where we come in. I guess the master told you what he told me when we finished the test — that the warrior's path isn't easy. There are losses and failures worse than usual. We let many people down, so we must keep going to make it right."
The three separate, accepting that Francesca is right. They put their hoods and scarves back on. Tyron notices Francesca frowning as she reads; curious, he asks, "What are you reading?" She doesn't look up and answers simply, "Studying." Alexa, confident, teases, "Aren't you so smart that you don't need to study for exams?" Francesca still doesn't look up: "I don't need to — I'll pass. But I won't let her beat me." They're all surprised to realize someone at Celeritas is even smarter than Francesca. Before they can comment, noises nearby catch their attention and they immediately leap to the fire escape. A few meters away they spot a man trying to force a door open. Plata signals them to hold back and watch before acting; Tyron reluctantly complies but starts drawing his sword. Alexa grabs his wrist and shakes her head. The man, unable to open the door, pulls out his phone and makes a call. The dark-skinned man breaks free and lunges; the brown-haired girl reacts in time and grabs his ankle, tripping him and sending him tumbling to the ground. The suspect turns and sees them; Alexa and Francesca prepare for the worst.
Man (excited): "Are you Plata and Topaz?! Come on over, my son will love a photo with you!"
Tyron, whispering to Emily while she holsters her weapon: "Who's Topaz?"
Emily, whispering: "I think that's you." Then aloud: "Of course, citizen — we'd love to take a picture for your son!"
Man: "Great! He'll be thrilled. By the way, are Lapis and Sapphire around here?"
Emily exhales with relief that she stopped her partner from acting rashly. She waves the others over. When the rest arrive they pose heroically for the photo — everyone except Francesca, who crosses her arms. After the photo Tyron asks coldly, "What were you trying to do?" The man's face drains of joy and he answers, "Help me, please — my family is moving and my two-year-old left her teddy in the apartment. My keys fell down and I couldn't open the door, so I was trying to get in." Francesca agrees to help and the others join in the search — not before Alexa and Francesca ruffle the back of Tyron's head as a penalty.
A new dawn spreads across the sky. People leave their homes for work; the younger ones wake for school. In the Liz Tower, on the seventy-ninth floor conference room, an older bald man with bronzed skin and gray at the temples lies bound to a chair. He wears a white shirt with red stains and black trousers, barefoot. He's been trying for a week to free himself without success. He strains and grows frantic when he hears footsteps in the corridor; unable to escape, he feigns sleep. Boris enters, finishing the last bite of a hamburger. He strolls past the bloodstains without soiling his polished shoes. Seeing the supposedly sleeping man, Boris goes to a desk, opens a drawer, pulls out a stapler and returns. He places the stapler on the man's pinky and staples — the old man screams in pain and drops the act.
Old Man (nervous): "What do you want?"
Boris (smiling): "How many times do I have to repeat it? Give me your system access, your banking password, and your seal, Mr. Chief Operating Officer."
COO (angry): "I'll give you money, but not my position, you damned bastard!"
The black-haired executive glares at the businessman, surprised that a man his age still shows such conviction. Boris opens the man's mouth, grabs his tongue and staples it. The old man screams again and Boris, annoyed, punches him in the nose. Returning to the hall for his sword, Boris hears the clerk call: "Sergeant, the secretary already gave us the codes and told us where she keeps the approval seal!" The old man sighs and hides his tongue. Boris follows suit, eyes closing briefly. The woman waits. When Boris opens his eyes and looks at the old man, he says, "Well… I guess you're no use anymore, old man," and drives his sword through the man's head in one motion.
Boris: "Jane, prepare the letters. I'll go fetch the seal."
Jane: "Sergeant, one question."
Boris, wiping blood off his blade: "Of course. Also tell some soldiers to come and remove the body — I don't want the floor smelling like death. Good thing you thought to put him in the bathroom sometimes, haha."
Jane: "Yes sir! What should the letters say?"
Boris, smiling as he heads for the door: "Easy. 'Dear director, we had the brilliant idea of providing transportation for several institutions so they can enjoy a day at our facilities.'"
Jane (doubtful): "What kind of schools?"
Boris, stopping in front of her: "Primaries — since the vigilantes failed in a similar situation, right?"
Jane: "Affirmative."
Boris turns the doorknob. "When we invite them here for a second chance, they'll rush over trying to prevent the same mistakes. If we win or lose against them, we'll deepen the wound in the people's spirit."
The woman nods as Boris slings his sheathed sword over his shoulder.
In Celeritas, Francesca is on the tennis courts releasing her frustration. She apparently finished her exam in record time like Nya did; the bell rings and she ignores the crowd watching her precise serves that leave a mark in the same spot on the court. Tired, she returns the racket and heads back to the main building, where Gregorio waits with two bottles of mineral water. He tosses one to her; she catches it and they sit on the only shaded bench near the fountain.
Gregorio (smiling): "Why so angry on the court?"
Francesca (serious): "I wasn't angry."
Gregorio laughs. "Sure you were."
Francesca (annoyed): "Of course not."
Gregorio: "Was it because of that new girl who matches you on homework?"
Francesca sips and replies, "Maybe…"
Gregorio, looking at the fountain: "I don't see the problem. If someone's as fast and smart as you, it might be better to make her your friend."
Francesca: "What makes you think she'd want to be my friend?"
Gregorio, smiling: "Well, since you have new friends, maybe she could be another."
Francesca: "She'll never be that. She's my enemy, a rival I must defeat."
Gregorio smiles with his eyes closed, thinking how stubborn his best friend can be. Before he can say more a black-haired boy yells, "Hey Greg, come on — we have to train!" Gregorio downs his water, says goodbye and jogs off toward the gym. Francesca watches the sky, thinking the final match is three weeks away. Her chauffeur approaches: "Miss Francesca, your father says you must leave now." She nods, gathers her things, and departs. The pink-haired girl, Nya, tries to speak but Francesca ignores her, and Nya sighs in annoyance.
Back in the forest, the teens are blindfolded, swords drawn and silent. Suddenly a huge log bursts through the underbrush behind them toward the brown-haired girl, who leaps and slices the rope holding it. Small wooden discs fly toward the blond and brown-haired pair, but they cut them all. Alexa walks cautiously to feel the ground beneath her feet and jumps, avoiding a spike-filled pit. Rocks swing past them, and among them four targets hang. Jayden calls from a branch: "REMOVE YOUR BANDS — THREE SECONDS — HEAVY TECHNIQUES AT THE TARGETS!" They follow orders almost blindly. As their eyes adjust to the light they dodge the rocks, position themselves in front of targets and execute their heavy techniques — destroying the targets and stopping all the swinging stones. They sheath their weapons, grab water from their packs and finish drinking. Jayden appears: "Good. Now to the box." A shiver runs down their backs as they follow him to the backyard training area. There they see the most complex exercise yet: a huge metal box studded with arm-thick poles. Jayden opens the box and locks the exit. The youths stand in the center.
Jayden places his hand on a lever. "You know what to do — hit all the buttons. That stops the poles and opens the door!" He pulls the lever down.
The poles begin to protrude and retract slowly, then gain speed. Inside the box, Tyron dodges two pole strikes to his face, Emily blocks a barrage with her forearms, Alexa nimbly avoids blows while looking for buttons on the walls, and Francesca hooks one of the poles at the right moment to keep herself against the metal. Francesca dodges and blocks and hits a button with a semicircular kick. Tyron ducks and lands a straight strike to another button, stopping a second wall. Alexa uses the poles' movement as a spring to kick and halt the left-wall poles. Emily breaks one pole with a block and tosses it up to smash another button. Finally, a kick stops the last wall's poles and the door opens. They look up: it's already dusk. Alexa asks, "How long were we in there?" Jayden pours a cup of tea and replies, "About two hours. Now hurry if you want to catch the bus." The four take off running. The warrior watches the training yard, picturing four adolescents practicing on the small platform, and takes a big sip of tea.
Walking a few blocks from the bus stop, Alexa and Emily argue about a K-pop group while Francesca and Tyron discuss heavy techniques.
Tyron: "Hey, why not adjust that semicircular kick you do — turn it into a full circular one?"
Francesca: "No. As it is I can follow up with several attacks; we don't need more power."
Tyron: "I've been thinking of a combo: a couple of straights, a knee to the chin, then finish with a double palm strike to the opponent's ears."
Francesca: "That could work against a single opponent, but against many—" Her phone rings.
Emily: "Is that 'Dynamite' by BTS?"
Francesca (blushing): "I don't know what you're talking about!" She sees a message from an unknown number.
Message: "Hey Blondie — we were paired up for the history project. Your place or mine? — Nya."
Francesca looks annoyed. Tyron steps back, worried she might snap, and asks, "What's up, Fran?" She pockets the phone angrily: "Teachers actually want me to get along with my rival!" Tyron laughs; she glares. "What's so funny?" she demands.
Tyron, smiling: "I imagine that was your reaction when you first got a message from one of us when we met."
Francesca: "I still don't get the joke."
Tyron, smiling at the bus stop ahead: "You have this huge need to keep improving — you like having rivals. I like that too. Having rivals makes us grow; if they're better, we'll be better. I told you — we'll be friends, but we'll also be rivals to become the best warriors, like the master said."
Francesca listens closely. Flashbacks of how she met her new friends, how she treated them, how she changed: the fight with the dark-haired girl, asking for help so Emily could make the leap, saving Tyron from Nick's blow, working together to stop Erinios and Maximus. These memories soften her. Tyron's words — that rivals can motivate you to improve — make her blush a little as she realizes he's right. They continue toward the others who are waiting.