The next morning, Alfred was already in the hallway when Yuma came down the stairs.
He hadn't moved. He simply stood there, without his notebook for once, with the expression of someone who had been waiting since exactly the moment he had decided to wait and not a second longer.
Yuma stopped on the last step.
Looked at Alfred.
Looked at the hallway behind him.
Looked at Alfred again.
"Good morning," he said carefully.
"Good morning," said Alfred. "Please, sit down."
There was a chair in the hallway. Just one. Placed facing Alfred with the precision of a piece of furniture that hadn't been there the day before.
Yuma sat down.
Alfred took out his notebook.
"Yesterday was a rest day," he said.
"Yes."
"A rest day means no training, no combat, no activity of any kind likely to endanger the physical integrity of the persons under my responsibility."
"Yes."
"You fought Ren Nobukage, rank S, in the underground combat room of the Aetheria Workshop."
"Technically he's the one who —"
"You fought Ren Nobukage, rank S, in the underground combat room of the Aetheria Workshop," Alfred repeated in exactly the same tone.
Yuma closed his mouth.
Alfred noted something down.
"I am going to quote Reishin," he said.
"I figured."
"He said, and I quote word for word: 'If Yuma finds a way to fight on a rest day, he will fight. The only solution is to physically remove all flat surfaces and all potential opponents within a five-hundred-meter radius. And even then.'"
He closed the notebook.
"He knows you well," said Alfred.
"Too well," said Yuma.
"That is his job."
A silence.
"Do I have a punishment?" asked Yuma.
"No."
"Oh."
"You fought a rank S and got back up. That is not something one punishes. That is something one notes."
Alfred tucked his notebook into his jacket with a precise gesture and bowed slightly.
"Enjoy your breakfast, Mister Yuma. It is served."
He turned on his heel and disappeared down the hallway with that regular, silent step of his.
Yuma stayed in the chair for a second.
"That's it?" he said to the empty air.
From somewhere down the hall, without turning around, Alfred answered.
"That is it. For today."
Three weeks passed.
Reishin had been gone long before any of this.
He had left the very day he had spoken those words in the training room, after the Embered Rosette and the victory over the clone — you are fit to join the guild — with the same economy of movement he applied to everything. He had picked up his jacket, told Yuma and Enji to make their way to the Hyôgas, and walked out without looking back.
No goodbye. No further instructions. No program for what came next.
Just a direction and the implicit trust that they would know what to do with it.
Everything that had followed at the Hyôgas — Kazuho's study, Arasaka's chest, the pact, the rest day, the fight against Ren — all of it without Reishin. Without a safety net.
And now three weeks alone.
At first it had unsettled Yuma more than he wanted to admit. He was used to having a direction, a target, someone across from him telling him where to focus the effort. Without that he drifted through the first two days, striking at nothing, running through the same combinations without knowing whether they were the right thing to work on.
It was Enji who had put things in order.
He had sat down with Yuma on the third morning with two bowls of broth and a sheet of paper and said simply: here is what we can do, here is what we cannot do yet, here is what we need to be able to do before Vantarcity. And they had worked from there.
Yuma on darkness stabilization with Archer. Every evening in the underground room the same sequence — activation, hold, release. Sixty-seven percent. Sixty-nine. Seventy-two. Each gain tiny and each gain real. Arasaka commented sometimes through the pact, rarely, with that fond disdain that was his way of being present without ever appearing to care.
You're improving, he had said once.
That was all. For Arasaka that was a speech.
Enji on precision. His ice techniques were becoming more economical each day — less mana for the same result, understanding progressively replacing brute force. He felt the Arcanis sometimes too, that perception at the edges of consciousness that caught ambient mana flows without him deciding to. He didn't mention it out loud. He was waiting to understand what it was before he said anything.
Together they worked on coordination. The Embered Rosette had been their first real point of synchronization and they were trying to go further — not just combined techniques but a shared reading of space, knowing without consulting each other where the other would be in two seconds and building around that.
It was difficult. It was the hardest thing they had worked on.
It was also the thing that was improving fastest.
That morning they were eating in silence in the dining room — an ordinary meal break, bread and reheated broth from Jules, morning light coming through the tall windows and drawing pale squares on the stone floor.
Alfred appeared in the doorway.
Not unusual. Alfred appeared in doorways regularly.
What was unusual was that he didn't have his notebook.
Yuma noticed immediately.
"You don't have your notebook."
"No," said Alfred.
"That's the first time."
"Indeed."
He looked at them both with something slightly different in his expression. Not emotion, nothing that visible, but a particular quality of attention, the kind of look one gives to something being evaluated seriously.
"I believe you are ready," he said.
Yuma and Enji exchanged a glance.
"Ready for what?" said Enji.
"Follow me," said Alfred.
He turned around.
They put down their bowls and followed.
The training arena in the garden of the Aetheria Workshop was larger than one imagined from the outside. A circle of ancient stone surrounded by trees, with absorption markings in the floor and along the borders — the same runes as in the underground room, but here in the open air, with the wind and the morning light and birds somewhere up in the trees.
Alfred stopped at the center of the arena.
Turned to face them.
"We are going to fight you," he said.
Silence.
Yuma looked at Alfred.
Looked behind him.
Lucien was there. Mira. Edwyn. Solène. Gaël.
The five attendants side by side, in combat attire — understated, fitted, nothing unnecessary. Each one carrying something different in their posture. Not household staff going about their duties. Something else entirely.
"Before we are attendants," said Alfred, "we are fighters. We are here to protect the Hyôgas. That is our primary mission, our reason for being in this house. The daily service comes after."
He looked directly at Enji.
"Enji. If you join the Threshold Guardians, if you become a hunter, you will need to be capable of facing people like us. We are your evaluation this morning."
Gaël stepped forward from the line of attendants. Arms crossed, direct gaze, with that calm depth of someone who doesn't need to perform in order to exist.
"We won't go easy on you," he said simply.
Yuma looked at each of them in turn. Lucien with the runes embroidered on his sleeves beginning to faintly glow in the morning light. Mira with that lightness in her bearing that concealed something. Edwyn with his staff resting against his shoulder. Solène with that barely perceptible smile. Gaël with his arms crossed.
"I knew something was off about you," said Yuma.
Alfred raised an eyebrow.
"Did you."
"For simple household staff you were too present. Too precise in your movements. Too attentive to everything. The way you occupied space."
He looked at them.
"Now I know. You're fighters."
Alfred made a brief sound — not quite a laugh, not quite approval, something between the two with his ever-serious tone.
"You nearly figured it out," he said. "Given the way you sometimes looked at us."
Solène, from the side, let something slip.
"Yes. At first I thought you were a pervert."
Yuma froze.
"That wasn't — I didn't — I was just observing the —"
He stumbled. The words weren't coming in the right order.
"I wasn't looking — I mean I was looking but not like —"
Laughter broke out. Then another. Then all the attendants at once, and Enji putting his hand over his mouth without really managing to hide anything.
Yuma turned red.
"It's not funny."
"It's a little funny," said Gaël.
"It's really funny," said Mira, with a gentleness that didn't soften what she'd just said at all.
"It's not —"
"It is funny," said Lucien.
And Lucien never said anything unnecessary.
Yuma resigned himself to a dignified silence.
Enji recovered his composure first — or at least the appearance of it.
"Are we really going to fight?" he said to Alfred.
"Yes."
"All six of you against the two of us."
"Yes."
"And my father knows about this."
"Your father approved the evaluation last night," said Alfred. "He was the one who suggested the garden arena rather than the underground room. He prefers natural light for this sort of thing."
Enji nodded slowly.
Hurried footsteps from the side corridor leading to the workshop.
Then Haruki appeared at the far end of the garden, out of breath, arms loaded, hair slightly disheveled, with the expression of someone who had just run from the other end of the building and was relieved to have made it in time.
"The fight hasn't started yet," he said between breaths.
"No," said Alfred.
"Good."
Haruki walked over to them and set down what he was carrying on the edge of the arena with the care of a blacksmith presenting his finest work. Two carefully prepared sets.
He straightened up and looked at Yuma.
"Your mitts have become full gloves. Same base, same mana reinforcement, but the protection now extends across the entire fist and the back of the hand. The sneakers are finished too — Tetsuya's artifacts are fully integrated now, no energy loss between the two. Everything you could do before you'll do better. And faster."
He turned to Enji.
"And you. White vest with ambient mana reinforcement across the entire surface. Black gloves that amplify the precision of your ice and fire constructs. And the mechanic's goggles — they give you a passive reading of mana flows around you in real time. You won't have to search. It'll already be there."
Enji took the goggles. Examined them. Put them on.
The world shifted slightly — not spectacularly, but the mana flows in the air became perceptible, faint colored lines indicating concentrations, directions, intensities. He could see each attendant's mana in front of him as a distinct signature.
"It's —" he said slowly.
"Exactly what you think," said Haruki with quiet satisfaction.
Yuma pulled on the gloves. Flexed his fingers. Tetsuya's artifacts responded immediately — sharper, more precise, like a voice heard clearly at last after weeks of interference. He felt the mana circulate through his fists with a fluidity he hadn't known before.
"This changes everything," he said.
"That's the idea," said Haruki.
He stepped back and looked at them both — equipped, in position, morning light on their gear.
"You both look genuinely great," he said simply. And sincerely.
Alfred cleared his throat.
"Now everything is ready," he said.
He moved to the center of the arena and positioned himself facing them. The five other attendants deployed behind him in a line — Lucien to his right, Mira to his left, Gaël and Solène at the flanks, Edwyn slightly back in the center with his staff.
Alfred drew his shield.
The morning light struck the metal and something about the way he held it completely changed the nature of his presence. This was no longer the attendant. This was something else.
Yuma and Enji took their positions.
Yuma on the left, slightly forward, gloves charged, the red lines of his vest beginning to softly activate. Enji on the right, one hand raised, mana already circulating through his fingers, the goggles mapping the six signatures in front of him.
The silence of the arena.
Wind in the trees.
"Begin," said Alfred.
Gaël moved first.
Not an attack. A feint. He charged toward Yuma with an explosiveness that caught him off guard, body low, fists forward, and at the last moment stopped dead and let Yuma dodge into empty air.
Yuma landed and pivoted. Gaël was already behind him.
Shock Absorption.
Gaël's fist caught Yuma's counter full on, absorbed the impact without stepping back, and the energy began accumulating in his body with a dull glow beneath the skin.
"Armored Body."
The glow spread across the entire surface of Gaël's body. He smiled.
"Now you're hitting for me."
Yuma stepped back.
On the other side of the arena Solène had already moved toward Enji.
Mirage.
An illusory double detached from her and went left while her real body went right. Enji, through the goggles, saw the mana flows split — the illusion carried significantly less than the real body.
Absolute Blade.
The ice lance shot toward Solène's real body. She sidestepped smoothly and the illusion dissolved in a flicker.
"Not bad," she said.
Phantom Strike.
She attacked from an angle the goggles had predicted but that Enji's body was a fraction of a second too slow to process. The impact caught him in the shoulder and pushed him back two steps.
Mira, from the center, raised both hands.
Veil of Mist.
The dense cloud spread across the entire arena in three seconds — not enough to blind completely with Enji's goggles or Archer's sensors for Yuma, but enough to reduce visual range and disrupt angle reading.
Heavy Field.
Edwyn drove his staff into the ground from his position in the rear. The slowing wave propagated outward from the point of impact. Yuma felt it in his legs immediately — an invisible resistance that turned every step into double the effort.
Slowing field detected, said Archer through the goggles. Source: staff at ten meters northeast. Recommendation: exit the radius or neutralize the source.
Yuma charged toward Edwyn. Thunder Dance, electric propulsions from the gloves — the slowing effect dragged at his feet but not his mana, and he chained the propulsions fast enough to push through the field before it fully set in.
Edwyn pivoted.
Languid Wave.
The slowing wave shot from the tip of the staff and caught Yuma mid-charge. His legs slowed, his torso kept going, and he ended up off balance three meters from Edwyn.
Seal of Sluggishness.
The mark settled on Yuma's right shoulder before he could react. He felt the slowing spread through his arm like cold water rising.
On the other side Enji answered Solène with Scarlet Nova — the ambient fire explosion that forced Solène back and temporarily dispersed Mira's mist in the central zone. Wall of Embers immediately after, the dense fire curtain that split the arena in two and isolated Mira and Edwyn from Yuma and Enji for a few seconds.
"Now," said Enji.
Yuma shook the seal from his shoulder with a Thundering Wave released into his own body — the electric discharge burning the mark from the inside. He repositioned alongside Enji behind the Wall of Embers.
Two seconds of breathing room.
They used them.
Yuma hit Gaël with a Lightning Chain from the gloves — three fast, charged impacts from different angles. Gaël absorbed all three with Armored Body, the glow beneath his skin growing with each hit.
"Keep going," said Gaël. "My thanks."
Enji launched Frost Coffin at Solène — three columns rising from the ground in a triangle. Solène vanished with Disappearance before the ice closed, invisible for three seconds, and reappeared behind Enji with Shadow Strike.
The impact pushed through Enji's guard and sent him a step forward.
Lucien moved.
He hadn't moved since the beginning. He was shifting quietly in the rear, the runes on his sleeves glowing more and more brightly.
Rune of Amplification.
The golden light settled on Alfred first — his shield intensified, the mana enveloping it doubling in density. Then on Gaël — the energy stored in his body swelled further, the glow under his skin now almost visible to the naked eye. Then on Solène — her illusions became sharper, more solid, harder to distinguish from reality even through the goggles.
Golden Chain.
A mana link formed between Lucien and Alfred — a continuous energy flow feeding the shield in real time.
"They're coordinating," said Enji.
"I see it," said Yuma.
Formation in progress, said Archer. Pattern recognized: inverted triangle with central support. Recommendation: break the formation before it completes.
Too late.
Alfred advanced.
Cutting Shield.
The mana disc shot at high speed and struck the ground between Yuma and Enji — not to injure, to separate. The shockwave threw them each in opposite directions.
The formation activated.
Gaël released everything he had accumulated.
Accumulated Discharge.
The raw energy wave exploded from his body in all directions — a massive, concentrated release, every ounce of force from every hit Yuma had landed sent back all at once. Yuma took the wave head-on and was thrown six meters, his back hitting the edge of the arena.
Solène from invisibility.
Storm of Illusions.
Five illusory doubles appearing simultaneously around Enji from five different angles. He deflected three with Shattered Mirror — the ice shards breaking the illusions mid-flight — dodged the fourth, and the fifth caught his left shoulder with enough force to make him buckle.
Mira.
Paralyzing Mist.
Concentrated on the area where Yuma had landed. The progressive numbness taking hold of his legs, arms, hands — slow, patient, relentless.
Edwyn.
Absolute Weight.
Staff raised in both hands, the maximum technique released on Enji. The young man found himself on his knees, every movement multiplied tenfold in effort, the air thickened by total slowing around his body.
Alfred positioned himself in front of them both.
Looked at Yuma against the edge of the arena, half-immobilized by the mist.
Looked at Enji on his knees under the Absolute Weight.
"Is this truly everything you are capable of?"
His voice was not cruel. It was cold, precise, with the quality of a question that expects an honest answer.
Yuma looked at the sky above the arena.
Blue. Ordinary. The birds still in the trees.
He felt Mira's mist in his legs — the numbness rising. He felt the residual Seal of Sluggishness from Edwyn still active in his right shoulder despite the discharge. He felt the impact of Gaël's Accumulated Discharge throughout his chest as a dull ache that wasn't going away quickly.
"Enji."
His voice was low.
"Yeah."
Enji was on his knees under the Absolute Weight, both hands on the ground, the goggles still mapping the six signatures around them despite everything. His mind was still working. Still searching.
"You wouldn't happen to have a plan?"
Silence.
Enji looked at the data through his goggles. The mana flows of all six attendants. Their positions. Their connections — Lucien's Golden Chain feeding Alfred, Gaël's Armored Body still active but depleted, Mira's mist sustained by her concentration, Edwyn's staff planted in the ground as a fixed source.
A fixed source.
Something assembled in his mind.
"I've got something," he said. "Listen."
He spoke quickly and quietly. Yuma listened.
"Edwyn's staff is planted in the ground. That's his anchor. If it's moved or broken from the ground his slowing field loses stability. Without the slowing Mira has to maintain her mist alone without zone support. And without the mist Lucien can't feed Alfred discreetly because the Golden Chain becomes visible."
Yuma looked at the positions.
"What if we cut the chain first?"
"No. The staff first. You go for the staff, I cover Lucien so he can't relaunch the amplification. When the field drops we regroup at the center and take Alfred two on one."
Yuma nodded once.
"That's good."
"I know."
They moved.
Alfred saw them coming.
Iron Wall.
Three stacked shields rising as a solid barrier between them and Edwyn — the path to the staff cut off clean.
Yuma braked.
Shield Rain.
Alfred launched five shields simultaneously from his arm in different directions, saturating the space between Yuma and Enji, forcing them apart again.
Gaël intercepted Yuma.
Mass Transfer.
Every last bit of stored energy released in a single strike — Gaël's fist caught Yuma's left flank with a force that had nothing left in common with his earlier blows. Yuma flew three meters and landed hard on the arena floor.
He stayed there for a second.
Stone floor against his cheek. Morning light on the back of his neck. The pain in his flank pulsing with every breath.
Solène positioned herself over Enji, still fighting against the Absolute Weight.
Phantom Strike.
The impact came from the angle the goggles had predicted a fraction too late — Enji blocked with his left glove, absorbed the worst of it, but the residual force dropped him to one knee.
Mira intensified the mist.
Blinding Mist.
Concentrated directly on Yuma's face where he lay — not to injure, to disorient, to sever communication with Archer.
Alfred walked over.
"Is this truly all?"
Yuma felt the mist in his eyes, in his throat.
Felt the pain in his flank.
Felt the numbness in his legs.
Felt something else too — deeper, warmer, more impatient.
Something that was hungry.
Get up, said Arasaka's voice in his head.
Not a question. Not encouragement. A statement made in advance.
You get up because that is what you do. That is what you are. Now get up and stop embarrassing the pact I signed.
Yuma took a deep breath.
And something in his mana shifted.
Not an explosion. Not an uncontrolled release. Something more interior — a flow concentrating from every point in his body toward a single place, like a river finally finding its bed after searching too long.
The red lines of his vest lit up completely.
"Enji," he said from the ground.
"I hear you."
"I'm going to give you an opening. Get ready."
Yuma stood up.
Not easily. Not without pain. With the slowness of someone with no easy reserves left who is drawing on something else, older and deeper than technique.
He was standing.
Alfred looked at him.
Something passed across the attendant's expression — imperceptible, quick, but there.
Yuma charged.
Not toward Alfred. Toward Mira.
Thunderstrike from the gloves — a direct impact, all the lightning focused on a single point, not to injure but to shatter concentration. Mira dodged but the mana shockwave in the air around her was enough to make the Veil of Mist waver for two seconds.
Two seconds.
Enji didn't wait for more.
Guided Spark — the fire sphere launched from his palm, slow, unpredictable trajectory, guided toward Edwyn's staff planted in the ground.
Edwyn saw it coming.
Counterblow.
He struck the Guided Spark with his staff and redirected the slowing effect back toward Enji.
But that was exactly what Enji had planned.
Whistling Blade.
The thin, silent sheet of ice launched in parallel to the Guided Spark, imperceptible in the residual mist, struck Edwyn's staff at its base at the precise moment it was in contact with the mana technique.
The staff left the ground.
A fraction of a second of disconnection.
The Heavy Field collapsed.
Mira's Paralyzing Mist lost its zone anchor and dissipated rapidly.
And Lucien's Golden Chain became visible — a perfectly traceable golden thread glowing in the cleared air.
"Now!" said Enji.
Yuma was already moving.
Cloak of Embers activated — fire compressed across his entire body, every hit he landed burning, every hit he took partially absorbed. He charged toward Gaël repositioning, collided with him bodily, the two simultaneous impacts — Yuma's fire against Gaël's absorption — creating a contact explosion that threw them both backward.
Gaël landed. Yuma landed.
Both got back up.
Gaël was spent. His absorption reserves were exhausted after the Accumulated Discharge and the Mass Transfer — he had nothing left to store. He was fighting with his body alone now.
Yuma felt it through Archer.
Opponent Gaël: absorption reserve at zero. Pure physical combat.
Double Detonation.
Both of Yuma's fists struck Gaël's guard simultaneously — the first explosion opening it, the second driving through. Gaël stepped back four paces and dropped to one knee.
On the other side Enji was managing Solène and Mira at the same time.
Polar Column under Solène's feet — the massive column launching her into the air, out of her attack angle. Then Wall of Embers between him and Mira — the fire curtain forcing Mira back and severing Lucien's Golden Chain toward Alfred through their axis.
Lucien reacted immediately.
Seal of Purification launched on Alfred to compensate for the lost amplification — the support mana settling on the shield to maintain its density without the chain.
Alfred held.
He was standing, alone, at the center of the arena. Gaël on one knee. Mira pushed back. Edwyn with his staff recovered but spent. Solène recovering from the Polar Column. Lucien tending from the rear.
Yuma and Enji repositioned side by side.
Facing Alfred.
"Together," said Yuma.
"Together," said Enji.
Alfred looked at the two of them in front of him. He read something in their postures — not fatigue, not hesitation. Something else.
He tightened his grip on the shield.
Yuma charged first — Lightning Chain, electric propulsions from the gloves, shifting angles with every impact, forcing Alfred to cover multiple directions simultaneously.
Guardian's Cage.
Alfred summoned four shields around Yuma in a cage formation — not to trap him but to force him off trajectory and funnel him toward a predictable angle.
Yuma leaped over the top shield.
Ricochet Shield.
The disc struck the arena wall, bounced, came back from behind. Yuma felt it coming through Archer.
Imminent impact, rear right angle.
He turned and blocked it with his right glove — the impact pushed him back but didn't stop him.
Enji was working in parallel.
Scarlet Nova — the ambient fire explosion that forced Alfred to raise his shield to protect his left side. In that fraction of a second where his right angle was exposed, Enji launched Absolute Blade — the precise ice lance at full power, aimed at the edge of the shield to destabilize rather than shatter it.
Explosive Shield.
Alfred released the struck shield as a directed explosion — the shockwave deflected the Absolute Blade and hit Enji at mid-range, throwing him backward.
Enji landed, rolled, got back into position.
He looked at his hands.
Looked at Alfred.
And something in his goggles showed him what he had been looking for since the beginning — the connection between Lucien's Seal of Purification and Alfred's shield. A continuous mana thread. If this thread was severed while Alfred was mid-technique, the shield would lose stability for exactly one second.
One second.
"Yuma."
"Yeah."
"I'm going to cut Lucien's link. In the second that follows the shield will be unstable. Hit with everything you have."
"Understood."
Enji stood up fully.
He took a deep breath.
And for the first time in three weeks he didn't search for the Arcanis.
He let it come.
The perception expanded. Not explosive, not uncontrollable — gentle, progressive, like light rising rather than a flame igniting. He felt the mana of everyone in the arena. Lucien's flows. The support thread toward Alfred. The exact texture of the connection.
He raised his left hand.
Wall of Embers rose between Lucien and Alfred — not to injure, to interrupt. The fire curtain cut through the Golden Chain thread and severed it clean for one second.
Simultaneously he charged his right hand — fire and ice at the same time, both affinities of his Dual Awakening activated together, not in sequence but in fusion.
Fire burning from the outside.
Ice compressing from the inside.
Both contradicting and reinforcing each other at once in a tension that wasn't stable and didn't need to be.
"I don't have a name for this," said Enji quietly.
He struck Alfred's shield.
The heat of the fire crossed the surface first — the shield resisting, holding, built to resist fire. But the ice arrived behind it, from the inside, and where the fire had expanded the shield's mana the ice contracted it violently. Two opposing forces applied to the same point at the same moment.
The shield cracked.
Not an ordinary crack — a fracture spreading from the center outward like glass giving way, with a crystalline, sharp sound that rang through the entire arena.
And through the crack, Yuma struck.
Obscure Fist.
Everything the gloves amplified, everything Archer had stabilized, everything the three weeks of training alone had built — concentrated in his right fist, through the crack in Alfred's shield, directly into the center of the mana.
Alfred was lifted off his feet.
He landed three meters away.
Stayed still for a second.
The silence of the arena.
Then Alfred slowly sat up. Looked at his hands. Looked at the cracked shield beside him.
He stood up.
"Combat concluded."
His voice was the same. Exactly the same. But something in his expression had changed — something subtle, interior, without a precise name but there and visible to anyone who knew him.
The other attendants were getting up with difficulty. Gaël with that quiet smile of someone who has been beaten and finds that acceptable. Solène adjusting her hair with an expression of genuine appreciation. Mira with a softness in her gaze. Edwyn gripping his staff and nodding slowly. Lucien, who had been standing the whole time, bowing briefly.
Gaël came forward first.
"Well done," he said simply. "The move on the staff was smart."
"That was Enji," said Yuma.
"I know. That's why I'm telling him."
Enji received the compliment without answering but something in his posture lightened slightly.
Alfred walked toward them.
He stopped two paces away.
Looked at them both.
And something happened that no one in this house had ever seen.
A tear.
Just one, at the corner of his right eye, descending slowly down his cheek with the same precision and economy as everything he did. Not several. One. As though even in this he was exact.
He did nothing to hide it.
"I watched you train," he said to Enji. "Every day. Since the first morning you arrived in this house as a child, with your father carrying your arms because you refused to admit you were tired."
His voice was the same. Always the same. But with something inside it that had never been there.
"I watched you become what you were before the tournament. I watched you after the tournament too — the days when you no longer left your room, the mornings when you trained alone at hours when no one was supposed to see. Those mornings I still wrote it down. In the notebook. Because I knew it mattered even when you no longer believed it did."
He looked at Yuma.
"And you."
Yuma said nothing.
"I don't know exactly where you come from. I don't know what you carry. But I know what you have done for him. What your presence has done — not through grand gestures, not through speeches. Simply by being there and refusing to let him stop."
He bowed slightly.
"Thank you."
Yuma opened his mouth.
"I had nothing to do with it," he said. "Really. It was him who —"
"You had everything to do with it," said Alfred. "And you don't need to understand that for it to be true."
He straightened up.
The tear had dried.
The expression had returned to what it always was — composed, precise, impassive. But with something different underneath it now, something that could no longer be pretended hadn't been seen.
Footsteps from the garden entrance.
Jules appeared with a cart of healing potions — carefully arranged, labeled, doses noted on each vial in a neat hand. Beside him another household member carried clean towels and bandages.
"Treatment," said Jules simply.
He distributed the potions with the quiet efficiency of someone who does this well. One for Yuma, one for Enji, one for each attendant, in the order of estimated injuries without anyone having told him anything.
Haruki, from the edge of the arena where he had stayed since the beginning, came down toward them with that particular expression — eyes bright, the satisfaction of a blacksmith who has just watched his work used exactly as he had imagined it.
"I just want to say —" he began.
He stopped.
Looked at the arena. The marks in the stone. The cracks where the techniques had struck. Alfred's cracked shield resting against the wall. The attendants tending to their injuries in quiet conversation.
Looked at Yuma and Enji.
"That was magnificent," he said. "Truly."
He placed a hand on each of their shoulders.
"You're ready for Vantarcity."
The morning sun was now high above the trees. The birds had returned to the branches. The wind carried the smell of the forge from the workshop.
Yuma drank his potion looking at the arena around them — the marks, the cracks, the light on all of it.
"Alfred," he said.
"Yes."
"Next time you evaluate us. Warn us."
Alfred looked at him with what resembled, very slightly, a smile.
"No," he said.
End of Chapter 20