"You want me to teach you?" Quincy nearly yelped, both hands flying to her chest in surprise. Her eyes widened as she stared at Even, who stood across from her in the quiet upstairs room—the same one they shared two nights ago.
"Yes," Even said plainly. "Your earth affinity—and what you can do with it—is beyond anything I've ever seen. Even compared to the Mathers family."
Quincy's fingers fidgeted together, her gaze dropping as she mumbled, "I mean… wouldn't that count as cheating?"
"Would it really?" Even leaned in a little, arms folded loosely. "This is just training. It's not like you're going to step into the ring and help me during the match, right?"
Quincy blinked up at him, lips parting in thought, then let out a small sigh. Her hand came to rest against his chest, fingers gently curling into the fabric of his clothes.
"You're bold, you know that?" she murmured, eyes narrowing with a mixture of amusement and something else.
"Fine. I'll teach you what I can," she said, then leaned in close, her lips brushing the shell of his ear as she whispered, "But I demand payment."
Even exhaled in a dramatic groan, head tilting back slightly. "Looks like I'll be drained in more ways than one before tomorrow's fight," he muttered, then smirked. "But I accept your price."
Quincy giggled softly, her fingers toying with the top of her dress as she backed away. "Then let's begin~"
— — —
There was something that had been gnawing at the edge of Xain's mind for a while now. A question he probably should have asked much earlier. But since he hadn't—might as well do it now.
He stepped up to the table where Zeva, Hittag, and Roland were sitting, all three engaged in casual conversation.
"Hey," he said, addressing Roland directly, "I've been meaning to ask—why exactly did you enter the tournament in the first place?"
Roland turned toward him, stark white brows slightly raised in what might've been surprise.
Zeva stared at Xain with disbelief. "Wait… are you seriously telling me you took his place in the tournament without even knowing why he was competing?"
"I-I mean—" Xain stammered, eyes flicking between them. "I know it's important! He really needs the coin!"
Zeva sighed, crossing her arms. "That's… idiotic."
"But fitting," Hittag added flatly, "for the title you were given by the holder of the coliseum."
Xain rubbed the back of his head. "Thanks… I guess?"
Then he turned back to Roland. "Anyway—can you answer the question?"
Roland tapped his fingers against the tabletop, his pale eyes fixed on a point somewhere past the wood grain—like he wasn't just thinking, but weighing something.
"I need the coin for my ma—mother," he said, the word catching on his tongue. His voice dipped in volume, and for the briefest moment, the edge in his usual tone softened into something exposed. "She needs help. A lot of help. And that coin... that coin could finally get her what she needs."
His hand clenched into a fist, then slowly opened again, fingers twitching as if he were trying to keep himself calm.
"Probably sounds generic compared to everyone else," he added with a shrug, "but that's the truth. That's why I entered."
"That doesn't make it any less of a good reason," Hittag said, his voice calm and steady.
Zeva exhaled through her nose. "It's a noble reason," she added, glancing down at her drink. "Better than some of ours, that's for sure."
Xain stood still for a second, then reached forward and rested a hand on Roland's shoulder.
"I see…" he said, voice steadying, "Don't worry. You will get your mother the help she needs. I promise."
Roland turned toward him, eyes flicking upward but not quite meeting Xain's. His voice came out soft—barely above a whisper. "Thanks."
Then his tone shifted slightly, the tension cracking just enough for a flicker of mischief to shine through.
"You better win, though. You're the reason I'm not competing, remember?"
Xain flinched. "Oh, come on…"
Zeva and Hittag immediately turned to him, intrigued.
"Hmm? What's that about?" Zeva asked, brow raised.
"Is he the reason for your broken back?" Hittag added dryly, eyes narrowing.
Xain flinched and let out a nervous chuckle, "I-I mean, it's not that simple—"
"Oh, I'll gladly tell them exactly what happened," Roland said, grinning as he turned toward the other two.
Xain winced. He could already feel the walls closing in. Every time he opened his mouth, it seemed, everyone got new ammunition to use against him.
"I-I got my answer, s-so I'm just going to go—"
"Stay." Zeva's voice cut clean through his attempt to escape.
He froze.
"It's fun to tease you," she added, lips curling into a smirk far too uncharacteristic of her usual seriousness. "So sit there and take it. Like a good boy, why don't you?"
Xain's breath hitched. "F-Fine! I'll be the one you all laugh at again!" His face had turned an impossibly deep shade of red, ears burning with the weight of incoming embarrassment.
*I never should've asked!* he groaned internally.
But… as Roland began to recount the story—thankfully omitting any mention of their original plans to steal from Clara and Elsa—Xain quietly added another thought:
*But I'm glad I did.*
He'd never needed a truly good reason to help someone. But knowing there was one… filled him with something deeper than obligation. It lit a fire.
As Roland spun the tale to an amused crowd, Xain stood straighter.
*I will definitely win.*