The moon hung low over the Flare estate, casting silver light across tiled roofs and flame-lit courtyards. Most of the clan had long since retired, but one figure moved quietly through the halls—her steps light, her heart heavy.
Rana stopped outside Jalen's room.
She hesitated.
Her hand hovered near the door, fingers curled into a loose fist. She didn't know why she was here. She told herself it was curiosity. Or maybe concern. But the truth was messier than that.
He was leaving. Just like that. No goodbye. No warning. No explanation.
And she hated how much that bothered her.
Why?
He wasn't her friend. He wasn't her master. He wasn't even part of her family or clan. He was just… Jalen. The boy who had saved her life, rebuilt her cultivation, and then spent the last weeks acting like none of it mattered.
But that wasn't true, was it?
He wasn't her master. Not officially. But the way she moved now—the way she breathed, fought, and thought—it all carried his shadow. The six techniques now in her arsenal bore his fingerprints. Every breakthrough echoed his voice.
And now he was leaving. Quietly. The old her wouldn't have cared or minded, but now it kind of stings because she'd finally started to get used to him being around.
She clenched her jaw. Maybe she just wanted to punch him one last time.
She raised her hand to knock.
But before she could—
"Come in," came his voice—calm, as always.
She froze for a heartbeat, then stepped inside.
What she didn't know—what he'd never admit—was that he could've left hours ago. No formation would've caught him. No guard would've seen him. But if he was being honest with himself, a small part of him had waited.
Just to see if she'd come.
Just to see her one last time.
Jalen sat cross-legged on a cushion, eyes half-lidded in meditation. He didn't look surprised to see her.
"My mother told me," Rana said. "You're leaving tomorrow. Is it true?"
Jalen opened his eyes fully, studying her. "And?"
She looked away. "I just… I thought you'd say something."
"I didn't think you'd care."
"I don't," she said too quickly. Then, softer: "But if you go… they'll kill you."
That was just an excuse. A flimsy one. She didn't want him to stay because of danger. She just didn't want him to leave.
Jalen tilted his head. "Are you worried about me?"
"No," she snapped. "I just don't want you to die."
He smiled faintly. "I've survived being killed by you, assassination attempts, and spending weeks avoiding pointless challenges from your admirers—especially that Troy kid. I think I'll manage."
"Stop joking," she said. "This isn't a game."
"It never was."
He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his robe.
"Don't worry about me. Go to your clan. Win the tournament. Don't shame me."
"I won't," she said, straightening.
"Before I go," Jalen said, "I have one final gift for you. From your trainer."
Rana raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"
Jalen didn't answer. Instead, his qi surged—quietly, but without restraint.
It surrounded her like a tide. He was imparting the other half of the Spirit Fire technique to her, despite her not being able to use it just yet. But seeing she had grasped the other six techniques to a high level in such a short period, he believed it was wise to bestow the rest unto her. And he didn't mask his energy this time.
For the first time, she felt it.
His true cultivation.
It wasn't just strong—it was terrifying. Deep. Refined. Heavy as a mountain, sharp as a blade. It pressed against her skin, her bones, her spirit.
Her breath caught. Her knees nearly buckled. Her heart pounded like a war drum.
It was on par with Ridge. A peak Enlightened Realm expert.
"You…" she whispered. "You've been hiding this the whole time."
Jalen gave a small nod. "Are you frightened of me now?"
She steadied herself, jaw tight.
"No wonder," she said, a smile tugging at her lips. She felt like an idiot for attacking him during their first encounter. If it had been any other expert, she would've been erased from existence. "You're a monster."
"Took you long enough to notice."
She scoffed inwardly. He was at the level of a master, and she was just a prodigy. If he wanted to hide his cultivation, there was nothing she could do—unless he chose to reveal it, like now.
She looked at him. Really looked.
"Will I see you again?"
Jalen's expression didn't change. "Who knows? Maybe you will. Maybe I'll die a dog's death in some ditch."
"Don't joke about that," she said, punching his shoulder.
He smirked. "If that's all, I'd like to go to bed. Unless you'd like to sleep next to me."
"Sure," Rana said without hesitation.
Jalen blinked.
Then chuckled. "I see what you did there."
She grinned. But then the grin faded, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched—not awkward, but heavy. Like there was something else they both wanted to say but didn't know how.
"Take care, Jalen."
"You too, Flame-brain."
She turned to leave—but paused at the door.
"The Ruona Continent International Tournament," she said. "It's a week from now. Ember Pearl City. You should come watch me win."
Jalen raised an eyebrow. "You do know I have a life outside of dealing with you."
"Just be there." She left before he could answer.
The moment the door closed behind her, Jalen let a small smile slip.
Then he vanished.
No formation detected his movement.
No assassin stationed outside the Flare estate sensed his departure.
He was gone—like smoke on the wind.