Joki and Dawn re-enter the cabin, a fresh breeze hitting their faces as they close the door behind them.
As they begin walking, Dawn places a hand on Joki's shoulder and stops him.
"Hey, Joki, can I ask you a question?"
Joki halts, glancing over. A curious expression settles on his face.
"Ever since I've been here, the only time you've let me leave the cabin is to hit that same tree. Why is that? Don't you think restricting me from the outside limits my growth?"
Joki looks over at Dawn, unsurprised—as if expecting the question.
"Well, like I said, no child has the right to wander the streets unattended. You're no exception."
Joki begins to walk off, but Dawn clenches his fists, summoning the courage to speak.
"Even for a short while, you have to admit I've learned a lot. My growth has been noticeable. I know I'm ready."
Joki stops again. This time, he turns around—his expression firm.
"Do you honestly believe you've changed, Dawn? If I released you back into the world right now, you'd fall into your old ways. You're still human—still bound to those primal, animal instincts. The moment you're threatened, by a man or even a woman, you'd tear them apart without hesitation—"
"But isn't that what I have to do?!"
Dawn cuts him off. His words freeze Joki in place. The expression on Dawn's face—a cold, blank stare—was one Joki had seen before.
"I get it... human life matters. But if my life is threatened—if someone shows hostility—shouldn't my first instinct be to take theirs? That's the only way they'll learn."
Joki looks at him, visibly unsettled. Even though he'd claimed Dawn hadn't changed, something about that stare shook his soul.
Still, Joki steps forward and places a hand on Dawn's head.
"They can't learn in death, Dawn. Your first instinct should be to reason with them—before resorting to murder. Communicate, but keep your guard up. Life is delicate. The one you least expect may be fighting for a heartfelt reason."
Joki's words ground Dawn. But even then, his mind spins.
Frustrated, he turns and storms back toward his room.
"Hey. Did you forget? We still need to test your abilities."
Dawn stops, facepalming—remembering his training isn't finished.
"Don't you think I've had enough for today? Besides, I fail to see what more testing you could do."
He reaches for the doorknob, disappointment written on his face as his resolve begins to crack.
"I was a bit dishonest about the test. This final lesson is about teaching you acceptance."
Dawn's eyes widen. He turns back to Joki, who's now smiling.
"Acceptance? What do you mean?"
"Going out there—letting you roam free—is a big thing, Dawn. That look in your eyes… that belief that you need to kill? That comes from your past. You don't want to kill. Something inside you thinks you have to. But once you accept your past—once you accept yourself—you may find all the answers you need."
Dawn's expression softens—hope flickers.
"Then—what do I have to do first?"
Joki brings his palms together at his heart, fingers pointing upward.
"Mimic what I'm doing. It's fairly simple."
Dawn follows, bringing his palms together as well.
"I read about this in one of the books. Is this called meditation?"
"Well look at that! You actually learned something and didn't lie to me about your progress. But no—this isn't meditation."
Dawn frowns. On multiple occasions, he had lied to Joki about reading books—just to spar. Joki had seen through every lie.
"Then… what is this?"
"It's called the Vaelis—an inner world once used by the Mirekin, warrior monks who believed true strength came from within."
Dawn raises his head, giving Joki his full attention.
"Whenever you walked the streets before we met—or even while we trained—did your thoughts ever run wild? Ever think about things you didn't want to… but couldn't stop it?"
Joki's words strike a nerve. Dawn flinches inward.
"Yeah... a lot, actually. But over time, you just get used to it. You start to accept that's just life."
Dawn's tone drops—there's sadness behind his eyes. Joki, however, smiles.
"I'd beg to differ. That's a sign you haven't fully accepted yourself. Those thoughts—those memories—they shake you because you haven't made peace with them. When you enter this world, you'll be hit with all of it at once. I see your dedication. I believe you want to control your strength. But this method… it comes at a risk."
Joki's last words hang heavy.
"…Risk?"
His smile fades, replaced by a serious look.
"Yeah. A big one. If you fail to accept yourself—if you can't conquer your past—your Emotional Quota will drop to 0%. If that happens… I'll be forced to put you down."
Dawn pauses. The weight of those words sinks in. He closes his eyes, breathes deep, and responds.
"I understand… and I wish to begin immediately."
Joki is stunned. Dawn speaks with a confidence he's never seen before.
"Then prove it. Close your eyes. Focus. Think of what's held you back—your negative thoughts—while breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth."
Dawn listens, eyes closing slowly. His brother's face begins to surface, memories crashing down like waves.
He breathes in through his nose… and out through his mouth.
DRIP.
DRIP.
Dawn gasps—his eyes shoot open.
The cabin has changed.
He stands up, skin crawling. The walls are slick with mold. The air smells rotten.
A cold chill clings to his spine.
"…Joki?"