The disorientation hit Tokoyami like a physical blow. One moment he was standing in the desolate heart of the Labyrinth, the next he was sprawled on the familiar stone floor of the Academy's training grounds. The transition was jarring, a sensory overload that momentarily scrambled his thoughts and left him gasping for air.
He pushed himself up, his senses slowly returning. The scent of pine and damp stone filled his nostrils, the familiar sounds of students practicing their skills echoing in the distance. He was back. He had made it. A cold sense of completion washed over him.
But something was wrong. Terribly, irrevocably wrong.
He looked around, his eyes scanning the training grounds, taking in the familiar faces of his classmates and instructors. They were all there, going about their routines, oblivious to the trials he had just endured, the sacrifices he had made. The world had continued without him. That made sense, logically. But Tokoyami felt very distant from it all.
He saw Anya-Lyra's friends standing near the training grounds talking.
He started his approach to greet them but something inside of him made it almost impossible. He could not relate to the small talk as they talked. Everything about their presence frustrated him. They should be protecting her. If they are not, they are worthless. This made his blood boil but he showed almost no reaction on his face.
"Tokoyami!" He heard his name called and turned to see a familiar face rushing towards him. It was Anya-Lyra.
He felt a faint flicker of something akin to warmth in his chest, a distant echo of the affection he once held for her. But it was muted, diminished, overshadowed by the cold, calculating logic that now dominated his thoughts.
She reached him, her face etched with concern. "Tokoyami, you're back! Are you alright? We were so worried!"
He stared at her, studying her face, analyzing her words, searching for any sign of weakness, any indication that she was not ready for the battle that lay ahead. He found nothing. Just pure confidence.
"I am… functional," he replied, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "The trials are complete."
She frowned, her brow furrowing. "Functional? That's all you have to say? After all this time?"
He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Efficiency is paramount. Sentiment is a liability."
Anya-Lyra took a step back, her eyes widening with a mixture of shock and hurt. "What happened to you, Tokoyami? You sound… different. Cold."
He shrugged, his movements stiff and mechanical. "The trials require adaptation. Weakness is not tolerated."
He could see the pain in her eyes, the disappointment in her face. But he could not bring himself to care. He had a mission to complete, a duty to fulfill. Personal feelings were irrelevant. He reached out and touched her cheek, his fingers cold and unyielding. He noticed no emotional reaction but he knew there was no time.
He knew now what he had to do and why he had to be that way.
He turned away, ignoring Anya-Lyra's protests, and walked towards the training grounds. He needed to test the limits of his new abilities, to hone his skills, to prepare for the final confrontation with Malkor. He could not afford to waste time on trivial matters, on emotional distractions.
As he walked he could hear more voices.
He could no longer stand the pressure of being around those who did not know what was at stake. He was above them and they did not understand the greater power he was fighting for.
He had to be strong. He had to be ruthless. He had to be emotionless.
It was the only way to save Anya-Lyra. It was the only way to save the world. And he would not allow anything, or anyone, to stand in his way.
He made his way over to the training grounds and looked out to see people sparring and learning the basics of combat. He was far beyond that. He started to look at the details around each combatant before analyzing how the combat could be done better.
He had to train, and he had to do it alone.