The students stood at attention, faces marked with the sweat of battle, their minds heavy with the emotional weight of what they had just endured. They had pushed themselves, faced their darkest fears, and emerged victorious. But there was no time for relief—Kainen and Ractor were quick to bring them back into focus.
Kainen's voice echoed with an intensity that commanded attention, yet there was a softness in it, a recognition of their growth.
> "You've done well," he began, his tone thick with pride. "You've learned what it means to hold your power, to restrain it for the right moment. You've embraced Avian compression, and in doing so, you've learned what it truly means to be Airien." He paused, giving each of them a moment to absorb the weight of those words. "But understand this—being an Airien isn't just about fighting. It's about balance. If you do not hold firm, the Ghouls will find you again, and they will twist your fears into something far more dangerous."
Ractor, standing beside Kainen, gave a nod of approval but kept his usual stoic demeanor.
> "You've faced the trials, but don't get too comfortable. The Ghouls will always prey on those who have unfinished business inside themselves. Just as you overcame those feelings here, you will need to carry that resolve forward. The battle for your soul never ends."
Kainen stepped forward, his voice growing more serious, tinged with a lesson of caution.
> "Avian compression is not only a tool for restraint—it's a weapon of strategy. It has its uses beyond battle. In some worlds, it is used for disguise. You can conceal your true power, blend in, become someone else if needed." He gave them a pointed look. "This ability can be the difference between life and death when you're faced with situations where outright power is not the answer."
He paused, letting that sink in.
> "But—" He raised a finger, warning them of the danger. "You need to be careful who you fight with. It's one thing to fight with restraint in mind. But if you're not cautious, you could end up causing more harm than you intend. One wrong move, one slip of your compression, and you could easily destroy the person you meant to protect. That's why the levels are so important."
Kainen moved towards a nearby training pillar, drawing energy into his hands as he demonstrated with a brief flash of his own Avian power.
> "Level 5 is for street-level engagements," Kainen said, his hand still glowing with controlled power. "This is the safest compression, the least damaging. You can fight with precision, without too much collateral damage." He lowered his hand, the energy dissipating. "As you move up the levels, your power grows more volatile. Level 4 begins to tap into a deeper strength. By the time you reach Level 1, you are no longer holding back."
He looked around the room, ensuring the students understood.
> "But be warned. Level 0—when you release your full power—can be catastrophic, even to those you hold dear. Compression teaches you not only how to fight but also when to choose how much of yourself you reveal."
Ractor's voice was the final note of the lecture, his usual quiet wisdom cutting through the room.
> "To wield such power is not just a matter of physical strength," he said, his eyes settling on each student one by one. "It is the mastery of yourself. Control is the true test. Without it, you are no different than the Ghouls you fight."
---
The room fell silent, the gravity of their training, their lessons, settling in their bones. They were no longer just fighters. They were students of restraint, of power, of truth.
They had a long road ahead. But for now, they'd learned that true strength wasn't measured in destruction, but in control.
Jack glanced around at his friends—each one of them had faced their own battle, had come to terms with their insecurities and fears. They weren't just Airien warriors anymore—they were guardians of their own souls.
And the journey was just beginning.
Kainen's voice broke through the quiet.
> "The road ahead will test you again. The Ghouls are never truly gone, and new enemies will rise. But remember—each of you is not only defined by your power, but by your ability to control it. The greatest warriors are those who know when to fight, and when to wait."
With that, Kainen and Ractor stepped back, leaving the students with their thoughts, their training, and the heavy, exhilarating weight of what they had learned.
The true battle—one of balance and self-mastery—had only just begun.
The weight of Redan's words hung over Ian like a storm cloud, thick and dark. Eve maid, the girl who had quietly found a space in his heart, was taken. The thought gnawed at him, twisted his insides. He had always kept his emotions close, always buried them in the depths of solitude. But now, with Eve maid pulled into the abyss of corruption, the cages he had built for himself felt weaker, thinner. His thoughts raced back to the secret forest, that hidden space where he would go to be alone, to train, to just be.
---
Flashback
The cool breeze rustled the leaves in the forest as Ian stood with his sword, its weight a familiar comfort in his hands. It was a place of peace—his peace. Here, in the thick of the trees, he didn't have to be the son of Nathan Okesi, the weight of his lineage didn't press on him. Here, he could simply exist. The sword wasn't a weapon; it was an extension of his being. Every strike, every movement was a release—a release from expectations, from pressures, from all the things he couldn't escape.
But even in his solitude, he wasn't truly alone.
She appeared, as she often did—quietly, like a ghost at the edge of his world. Eve maid.
She didn't speak at first. She simply watched him, her eyes soft, understanding. Ian knew she could sense it—the isolation, the internal battle he fought every day. She wasn't here to interrupt, but to be present. In some unspoken way, they shared the same weight. The same cage.
She was trapped, just like him. Trapped by her own expectations, by the role she had played, the fighter with tranquilizers, the one who always stood behind, never in front. Always supporting, never leading. He saw it in the way she carried herself, in the way her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
And he couldn't help but feel it too—he wasn't his father. He wasn't the man Nathan Okesi had been. But that wasn't what haunted him. What haunted him was the fact that, in a way, he couldn't break free of that shadow. He couldn't escape the pressure. He couldn't open up to the girl standing there, the one who saw him, really saw him.
Their connection was undeniable. It had always been. A quiet understanding passed between them in every glance, every word unspoken. But it was there, in the silence, the space between them. She knew what he felt, and he knew what she needed.
And yet, neither one of them could say it. Neither one could bridge that gap.
Eve maid wanted to rebel. She wanted to break free of the role she had played, to live her life, to be something more than a tool. She wanted to do more than just fight for others. But Ian, still so trapped by his own fears, his own doubt, couldn't agree. He couldn't bring himself to understand what she was asking for. It was the one difference that separated them, and it was a painful divide.
The words were always on the tip of his tongue, but he never spoke them. The longing, the desire to be more than just friends, was buried deep inside him. And as the days passed, the gap between them grew, stretching out until it was too wide to cross. It was like standing at the edge of a cliff, knowing you want to leap but being too afraid to fall.
---
Present
Ian sat on top of a column at Airien Academy, looking out over the horizon, his mind lost in the swirling vortex of thoughts. The landscape around him was quiet, peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos that churned in his chest. His hands rested on his sword, the weight of it comforting yet somehow heavier than usual.
He felt a presence before he heard the footsteps. Yyvone. She was always able to find him in moments like these. She wasn't loud, wasn't brash. She was the kind of person who simply knew when someone needed a little space to breathe.
She approached slowly, carefully, as if not to disturb the quiet storm inside him. She sat beside him, her gaze following his, lost in the same view he was.
For a while, neither spoke. Yyvone didn't need to. She just sat there, offering him her presence, her unspoken understanding.
Finally, Ian broke the silence, his voice quiet but strained.
> "She's gone, Yyvone. Eve maid... I never even got the chance to tell her... how I felt."
Yyvone's expression softened, her eyes understanding the weight of his words. She knew about the quiet bond between Ian and Eve maid, the unspoken connection, the quiet tragedy of it all. But she also knew about Ian's nature—how he kept things locked inside, too afraid to face them head-on.
> "You don't have to say it to her to feel it, Ian. You know that, right? You loved her, and she loved you. That's what matters." Yyvone's voice was gentle, the kind of voice that could soothe a storm. "But... she's not gone. Not entirely. The Eve maid you knew... she's still there. She's just found a different way to fight."
Ian's heart tightened at her words. He wanted to believe that, but deep down, he felt a sense of loss. She had been taken by Redan, twisted into something else. Something he might not recognize.
> "I wasn't ready," Ian admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was always too afraid to open up, to admit what I felt. And now... I've lost her."
Yyvone placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch grounding him. "You've never been ready, Ian. You've always been fighting yourself, hiding in your solitude. But that's not who you are. Not anymore."
Ian didn't respond immediately. The weight of her words hung in the air, heavy and true. Could he really let go of the past? Could he fight for Eve maid, even now, when she had embraced the corruption force?
> "You're not alone in this," Yyvone said, her voice firm but kind. "None of us are. You've got us. We're in this together."
Ian let out a slow breath, the storm inside him settling just a little. He didn't know what the future held. He didn't know what had become of Eve maid, or whether they could ever be together again. But for the first time, he didn't feel quite so alone.
He looked over at Yyvone, offering her a small, grateful smile.
> "Thanks, Yyvone," he said softly. "For being here."
She nodded, her gaze turning back to the horizon.
> "We'll get her back. One step at a time."
And in that moment, Ian knew that no matter how broken the pieces of his heart were, he wasn't alone in trying to put them back together.
In the Free Abyss...
A world that howled like a wounded god—bleeding chaos, soaked in silence, and yet, brimming with distorted beauty.
The sky? Purple bruised with black scars.
The ground? Cracked with ancient battle screams.
The air? Hung thick with madness... and freedom.
Here, Redan walked with Eve maid at her side.
This wasn't a place for the weak of will or the heavy of heart. No rules. No order. Just instinct and transformation. And Redan—prophet of the fractured truth—had brought her here for one reason.
They stood over a girl—young, broken, eyes dimmed by a lifetime of being less. Not evil. Just... lost.
Eve maid saw herself in her. The same ache. The same haunted silence.
She wanted to help, not control.
> "Give her the dose," Redan said, her voice smooth like velvet stretched over barbed wire.
"This tranquilizer... it isn't sedation. It's liberation. It's infused with your growth. Your revelation. Give it to her. Set her free."
Eve maid's hand trembled.
> "But what if I'm wrong? What if she needs kindness, not... chemical enlightenment?"
Redan's eyes flashed with certainty—the kind that burns down doubt.
> "You know this isn't control. It's permission. You're not forcing her to change. You're showing her the door she's never seen."
Silence.
Then—hiss.
The tranquilizer sank into the girl's skin. She gasped once... and collapsed.
Moments passed like centuries.
Then, her eyes fluttered open—new, fierce, alive. Her limbs didn't shake anymore. Her spine straightened with self-respect. And she laughed—a laugh that hadn't seen daylight in years.
> "I'm done hiding," she whispered, "I remember who I am."
Eve maid felt something shift in her soul. She wasn't betraying herself. She was unlocking something primal—compassion weaponized by truth.
And in that breath, she understood.
The ghouls? They weren't evil.
They were reflections. Beings twisted by too much emotion, not too little. Not monsters... metaphors. The girl had proved it. And now... she stood by Redan's side.
Eve maid, once a quiet supporter, now wore the look of someone reborn. No longer the healer behind the lines. She was transformation itself. A muse of madness and mercy.
---
Elsewhere...
A darker corner of the Free Abyss. Quiet. Too quiet.
Redan approached Bhine.
Ah, Bhine—the OG.
Where others saw rot, Bhine saw potential. Where others fled from corruption, Bhine nurtured it like a gardener with a black rose.
Redan, smirking like fate had already signed the contract:
> "Everything is unfolding, just as we sketched it in the void. Eve maid understands now. She's a liberator. The girl's already recruiting in her own way. And Ian? He's still on the edge. Just one nudge."
Bhine didn't speak at first. He inhaled the corrupted air like fine wine, and then finally—he smiled.
> "Then it's time," he said, low and dangerous. "Time to hunt."
He stepped into the mist, the shadows curling around him like armor. He was the whisper you hear right before doubt devours you.
The games had begun.
And the Free Abyss?
It was just getting started.