Ariel's voice broke the silence, her tone sharp with confusion, her blue eyes searching Zane's face. "Use the System but don't rely on it? Big brother, I don't understand. What does that even mean? How are we supposed to use it if we can't trust it?"
Zane leaned back, his fingers tracing the edge of his empty coffee cup, its outline clear in his mind. "Think back, Ariel," he said, his voice a steady stream, each word deliberate, laced with a teacher's patience. "When we were sparring, you cast those spells—Earth Domain, Ice Domain—did you see any notifications? Anything about how much MP you used, how much you had left?"
Ariel's brow furrowed, her blue eyes distant as she thought back. "No, I didn't see anything like that," she admitted, her voice softer, her aura flickering with realization. "It was just… instinct, I guess. I felt the power, used it, but there were no numbers, no prompts."
Zane's smirk twitched, his head tilting toward her. "Exactly. That's the point. During the Tutorial, the System fed you numbers—MP, health, all that—to help you get a feel for your abilities, like training wheels for new Awakeners. But now? Those prompts are gone, you can only check how much MP you have used and how much you have left by opening your status window. The system will no longer remind you because this isn't the Tutorial anymore. We're in a new era, Ariel, where strength is everything. The strong decide what's right; the weak get crushed. And right now, compared to what's coming in the Tower, we're all weak." His words were heavy.
Kenshi leaned forward, his katana resting against his chair, his amber eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. "You're talking like you've seen this era before, Zane," he said, his voice low, like a blade's edge cutting through the room's tension. "What are you basing all this on? I'm not saying we don't trust you, but how do you know so much about the Tower, the System, these otherworldly enemies? Where's this coming from?" His aura was sharp, a challenge in his tone, demanding answers Zane wasn't ready to give.
Zane's smirk faded, his voice cool, clipped. "It's better if you don't know yet, Kenshi. I've got my reasons, my experiences. Let's leave it at that." His tone was a wall, shutting down further probing.
Yuna's eyes narrowed, her chestnut hair with golden streaks catching the light as she leaned forward, her voice steady but pointed. "You're strong, Zane. Blind or not, you took down Elite Geminis like they were nothing. It'll all work out somehow, right? You've got this." Her aura flickered with hope, but her words carried a question, testing his confidence.
Zane's head tilted toward her, his voice darkening, each word a deliberate warning. "You saw the one who marked me, didn't you? The one who called himself a disciple. There are others out there—beings much stronger, faster, deadlier. We'll have to face them sooner or later. I'm telling you all this because of our deal, Yuna, not because we're buddies. Don't mistake me for one of your friends." His tone was cold, a blade cutting through any illusion of camaraderie, his sound-based vision catching her flinch, the others' tense glances.
Valmer chuckled, his rosary beads clinking as he leaned back, his sable-rose eyes glinting with amusement. "No need to be so cold, Zane. You're like a storm cloud next to Ariel's sunshine. I don't know how you two are even related—you're so damn mean." His voice was light, teasing, but his aura held a wary respect, mindful of Zane's strength.
Zane's smirk returned, sharp and unyielding. "Mean or not, here's the deal: the more you use your abilities, the stronger you'll get. Push them, train them, make them second nature. That's how you survive. I'm done here." He stood, his movements fluid despite his blindness, his vision guiding him toward the door, the room's outlines—table, chairs, the Primordials' forms—vivid in his mind.
Valmer raised an eyebrow, his voice trailing after him. "Hey, hold up. Isn't a blind man supposed to use a stick or something? How're you moving like you can see every inch of this place?" He glanced at Ariel, searching for answers, his aura curious.
Ariel grinned, her blue eyes sparkling, her golden hair bouncing as she shook her head. "I'm not telling you that, Valmer. Sorry, big brother's secrets are his own." Her voice was playful, but her aura was firm, loyal to Zane above all.
Valmer shrugged, standing, his white coat swishing. "Fair enough. We're heading out, but you'll be at the conference in two days, right? The one the government's holding for Awakeners? We need to show up, make sure they don't try to control us." His voice was casual, but his aura carried a hint of urgency, mindful of Zane's earlier warning about not bowing to authority.
Ariel nodded, her voice bright. "Yeah, I think we'll be there. Right, big brother?" She glanced at Zane, but he was already halfway out the door, his boots silent on the polished floor.
"Whatever," Zane called back, his voice a low rumble.
"I'll call someone to clean up the parking lot. It's a mess from your sparring. See you later." Valmer said.
Ariel turned to Celine, her eyes softening. "Let's clean up the table, Celine. They're gone, and I'm not leaving you to do it alone." Her hands moved quickly, stacking plates.
Celine smiled, her hazel eyes bright, her red braid swaying as she gathered cups. "Thanks, Ariel. I'm glad you're here to help, though I wouldn't mind doing it alone." Her voice was soft.
"Big brother, did you dye your hair?" Ariel asked, her voice light but probing as she sank onto the sofa beside him, her outline vivid in his mind, her hands tucked under her thighs. "It's so white now. When did you even have time for that?" Her blue eyes studied him, searching for answers he wouldn't give.
Zane's lips twitched into a faint smile, his voice a steady stream, deflecting with ease. "Yeah, something like that." He couldn't tell her the truth—that his hair had bleached white through countless tortures, trials that had pushed him to the edge of death and back, reshaping him into something more than human.
"Where's Celine?" he asked, shifting the topic, his echo sight scanning the room, noting her absence beyond his ten-meter range.
Ariel leaned back, her voice softening, her aura steady. "She's upstairs, getting the bedrooms ready. I offered to help, but she insisted on doing it alone, said she wanted to make sure everything's perfect." Her blue eyes flickered with warmth, grateful for her friend's quiet determination.
Zane's smirk softened, his thoughts turning inward. 'Looks like she's trying hard to be useful, to prove she belongs. Tch, how foolish, the moment you try to prove yourself, you've already lost your worth.' "Good for her," he said, his voice low, approving but guarded. "She's got heart, even if she's not a fighter yet."
Ariel's voice brightened, her hands clapping together, her aura sparking with excitement. "You'll be coming with me to the conference in two days, right? The one for Awakeners? It's a big deal—everyone's going to be there, talking about the Tower, the System, all of it." Her words tumbled out, her blue eyes searching his face, though he couldn't see them.
"Of course," Zane replied, his voice short but firm, his head tilting toward her. The conference, led by their father, Blake Walker, was a complication he'd face head-on, blind or not. His brothers would be there too, their presence a reminder of old wounds, old betrayals. He kept his tone steady, hiding the storm brewing within.
Ariel's voice softened, her concern palpable, her aura flickering with worry. "Will you be okay, big brother? I mean… it's Father. And our brothers. It's going to be tough, especially since you can't see them." Her hands fidgeted, her blue eyes heavy with the weight of their family's fractured past.
Zane's smirk returned, faint but sharp, his voice a quiet ripple, laced with a warmth he reserved for her. "I miss Father and the others, Ariel. It's a shame I won't see their faces, but I'd love to know how they're holding up in all this chaos. Don't worry about me—I'll manage." His words were a lie wrapped in truth, his heart a tangle of anger and resolve. Blake Walker, the man who'd shaped their lives with cold ambition, was a shadow he'd face, blind or not. His brothers, complicit in their father's games, were lesser thorns, but thorns nonetheless.
Ariel's voice lightened, but her concern lingered. "Okay, big brother. Just… stay close to me, alright?" She leaned against him, her warmth a quiet anchor in his darkness.
Zane stood, his movements fluid despite his blindness, his vision guiding him toward the stairs, their outlines clear in his mind. "I'm heading to bed," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You should get some rest too, Ariel. Good night." His boots were silent on the polished floor, his resolve a steady flame.
"Good night, big brother," Ariel called, her voice soft, watching him go, her aura warm with worry.
As Zane climbed the stairs, his thoughts darkened, his jaw tightening. 'Blake Walker, you son of a bitch.'