Alonso suddenly found himself sitting on a wooden chair.

In front of him was a table with three cups. Two were filled with tea—one gave off the scent of mint, the other of black tea with a hint of honey—while the one before him remained empty. The table was covered with a patterned cloth that matched the style of a traditional wooden European house from the 1800s.

Alonso was surprised by the detail and quality of it all. If not for the two sitting in front of him, he might have believed it was all real.

"Any preference for tea?" Houston asked, his tone light.

Alonso glanced at the cups. "What are you having?"

"Black tea, honeyed."

Alonso nodded. "Then I'll have the same."

Houston clicked his fingers, and a small pot of hot water appeared at Alonso's side.

Alonso picked it up and poured carefully over the waiting tea bag, watching as dark amber swirled through the cup.

When he set the pot down, a jar of honey appeared—the exact brand he used to buy back in Melbourne. He scooped some in, stirring slowly, then leaned back as the spoon kept whirling on its own. The tea bag and pot faded away.

"I gather from your faces that I'm alive. And so is Ayu. So… what happened?"

"Are you not gonna try your tea first?" Houston pressed, voice light.

"As soon as you confirm what I just said."

"Well… yes. You and Ayu are fine."

Alonso narrowed his eyes, glancing between Houston's casual grin and Darius, who sat leaned back, silent as always. "I see." He raised the cup and took a sip. It was hot, a bit too sweet—but surprisingly real.

"I can tell your experiments with taste buds have paid off, Houston." He set the cup down. "Just… tone down the sweet a little."

"Noted." Houston's grin widened. "Alright, let's go over what happened. I believe you remember up until the point your head cracked into the mountain?"

Alonso nodded.

"Well… after that blow to your head, you blacked out. And while you were out—probably because Dual Overdrive was still active and you were linked with Darius—well… Darius here seems to have fed off your still-active neural pathways and…"

"Wait. Wait." Alonso's eyes snapped to Darius, who remained still, unreadable. "Darius… took control of my body?"

"In layman's terms? Yes."

"What the…" Alonso muttered. "But… how? I thought you two were only connected through the Pillar."

"As I said—I can't fully explain it yet. The Dual Overdrive, the head trauma… it triggered something unusual. A phenomenon we hadn't seen before."

Alonso's mind raced. "So… what happened? The commander-level Xok'al? Ayu?"

"As I said—Ayu's fine. And the commander-level Xok'al… is dead."

"Dead?" Alonso blinked. "So… Grandmaster Makoh came, or something?"

"No." Houston shook his head. "No one came. You… or rather Darius… killed the Xok'al."

Alonso's eyes widened, his face freezing for a breath.

Darius… killed a commander-level Xok'al using my body? But… how is that even possible? The gap in strength…

He swallowed hard, gaze snapping to Darius. "You defeated the Xok'al?"

"Yes," Darius said plainly.

"How?"

"I cut its heart. And most of its inner organs."

"But… how?" Alonso shook his head. "What about its EM field? Its speed? Its strength? Even if your swordsmanship is leagues above mine, that shouldn't have been enough. What did you do?"

Darius let out a quiet sigh. "It's easier if I show you."

Before Alonso could speak, the space around him faded.

Suddenly, he was there again. In his battered body. The pain, the dizziness, the weight of fatigue—yet something felt off. As if he was inside himself… but not in control.

An axe-shaped arm came down—he felt the rush of air, the deadly force.

And then Alonso felt it. His muscles burned, his body resonating in some strange, terrifying harmony. Force rippled from his toes, through his frame, to his arms—every part connected perfectly, like a single strike of a drum. His whole being shifted, snapping in and out of range in an instant. One arm moved, too fast, too precise.

He felt the body tearing under the strain, like it was doing something it had no right to do—and yet it did. And that strike… it felt like sword intent, but not. Like it tapped into something deeper. But what?

The Xok'al recoiled, a deep wound slashed across its chest.

And the axe-shaped limb—it had missed entirely.

And then Alonso noticed—why hadn't he felt the weight of its EM domain?

His senses flicked towards the blades—there was a wave, yes, but too weak to counter that kind of EM field. So how?

The fight played out. Alonso felt it all—the tiny windows, the explosive bursts, every move controlling timing, space, perception. Reality itself seemed warped.

How could my body move like this? How could the muscles connect down to the cellular level and release such power? How could the blade land without the Xok'al reacting?

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Why was the Xok'al frozen during every attack?

None of it made sense.

He saw the large grotesque shard rip free from the Xok'al's back, saw it launch, felt his body wait—then, at the last instant, burst forward. Time seemed to crack as he slipped past death by millimetres, closed in, and delivered a slash that felt too plain to land.

And yet—if the Xok'al hadn't flinched at the last moment, it would've died right then and there!

The Xok'al retreated, and he—or rather Darius—did not stop.

He felt the burst carry further, the resonance stronger now, more refined. Then his body blurred. Alonso felt it—pushed beyond its absolute limits, muscles tearing filament by filament, down to the lowest biological level. The energy burn was insane. The Xok'al's EM domain tried to press down, but it couldn't touch him somehow.

And then the body exploded into motion. Left—sword slashed from the left. Then right. Then left again, striking with the right blade. One final step—he was behind the Xok'al.

Yet the timing between those slashes… wait… did time even pass? His heart hadn't beat once. The Xok'al had been frozen. Even the air had felt still.

And then Alonso felt it all snap. The body collapsed from the inside, everything but the critical components wrecked. He fell, darkness taking him.

Alonso jolted back into the chair.

His hands trembled faintly. His head thudded with a slow, heavy pulse.

He lifted his gaze toward Darius. He wanted to ask for the fourth maybe fifth time—How? But no words came.

Darius had destroyed that Xok'al with barely any EM output, with a body far weaker… using swordsmanship alone.

It was… absurd. And yet… it happened.

"Darius… those techniques you used… that power you managed to pull from my body, the way you masked the blades from EM control with minimal waves… all of that… can you teach me?"

Darius smiled. "Yes."

Houston leaned forward slightly and tapped the table once. "Just one thing, Alonso. That… wasn't something that should just happen. I've got no real explanation for how Darius' pathways reached through the Pillar into yours—or if it was some kind of strange contactless sync. Either way, don't count on it. We can't control it. The strength that ultimately matters… is yours."

Alonso slowly nodded, his head still fogged from the surreal experience he'd just lived through, firsthand.

"Alright. You still have plenty of time before your body is fully healed. I'll leave you two to decide how to spend it," Houston said, a faint grin on his face before he vanished from the space.

Alonso stared at Darius, who gave a single nod as the world around them flickered once more.

"Hey, Ayu—the bastard tribals from the East just arrived. Full moon's coming," Grahn said as he stepped inside the tent. His tone was casual, but his eyes flicked toward Alonso for a brief moment. "Leave the soft-foot. He'll be fine."

Ayu didn't move. Her gaze stayed fixed on Alonso, watching the rise and fall of his chest. His breathing was steady. His pulse, strong. But he still hadn't opened his eyes.

And after what she'd seen… she needed more than signs of life. She needed to see him awake. Needed to see if it was still him—the man she knew, not whatever force had taken over his body in that fight.

Her eyes shifted to the skull resting near the bed. The head of the four-tail. She'd dragged it back after getting Alonso to safety—just in time, before the other Xok'al were about to devour their brethren.

It was meant as a surprise. A trophy for him.

But first… he had to wake up.

Grahn watched her a beat longer, then let out a low grunt, rubbing the back of his neck. "Suit yourself. But… Hoki's cub is here. Says he's looking for you. Probably for a spar. I'll try keep the brat busy, but—hah—I'm not sure I can hold 'em for long."

He stepped out, the flap falling shut with a soft thump.

Ayu didn't move. She stayed crouched, leaning closer, brushing a smear of dust from Alonso's cheek with rough fingers—gentle, despite the storm churning inside her.

"Come on…" she muttered under her breath.

But Alonso lay there—still, calm, as if nothing could touch him. No twitch, no stir, no sign he'd wake anytime soon.

Minutes dragged. Outside, the world shifted. The first low thrum of the drums rolled over the camp. Then another—faster, louder, as more joined. A steady, primal beat that echoed off the rocks, rising like a heartbeat for the coming full moon.

The firelight flickered against the tent walls, shadows dancing wild.

Ayu sighed. She couldn't delay it anymore.

She rose, stepped out, and let the air hit her—thick with the smell of brulac, smoke, sweat. The fires burned high, flames casting red light across the gathering. Beastmen danced in the clearing, bodies moving with the drums, some already half-drunk, horns of brulac lifted high.

Her eyes found Niria—a lean, sharp-eared beastwoman with a steady gaze—someone she was mildly fond of.

"Niria. Watch him. If he stirs—call me. Don't delay."

Niria dipped her head. "Yes, Ayu."

Ayu turned toward the main square. The rhythm of the drums beat faster now, fires roaring higher. The brulac flowed freely, laughter and howls filling the night. Warriors sparred in the firelight, bare feet kicking up dust, their bodies painted in ash and earth.

And then—she saw them. The Easterners.

They were easy to spot. Taller, bulkier, their skin scaled in places—rough and dark like old stone. Faces half-hidden by bone crests or ridged horns. Hands clawed. Eyes yellow or red, cold and watchful. Plainly put, half dinosaur, half man bastards.

And at their head—him.

Eryx.

Disciple of Grandmaster Hoki, Warden of the Eastern Wilds. The one who stood as her master's equal among the Easterners.

Eryx had trained under him far longer than Ayu under Makoh, though. He stood at the edge of the elite warrior stage, perhaps beyond already.

His frame was wiry, his scales deep green, catching the firelight like polished stone. His yellow eyes locked onto Ayu with a glint that made her stomach twist.

But Ayu didn't flinch. She met his gaze head-on.

"Well, if it ain't the Disciple of the White Wolf of the West," Eryx said loud enough that the drums near faltered, voices quieting, heads turning. "I heard of a genius without equal, finally taken in by the Son of the Winter Moon after all these long seasons. But never did I hear she was a gem so fine to look at."

The air bristled. A few growls rumbled low in the throats of those nearest. One older warrior spat to the side.

Ayu's eyes narrowed, but a smirk tugged at the edge of her mouth. "Huh. Funny. I heard the East bred hunters, not dogs who whimper at what they can't have."

Eryx tilted his head, the firelight glinting off his fangs. "Ah, sharp tongue. I like that. But careful, Westling. It's easy to bare fangs when hiding behind soft-foot warriors and old wolves."

"Careful? I'm always careful, lizard. Careful not to waste breath on things beneath my notice."

Eryx's eyes narrowed, the glint in them turning sharp and cold. The word cut deep—lizard—a name spat like poison at his kind. Ayu didn't give a fuck. Whatever she said, none of them would dare lay a claw on her.

The tension crackled, growls rumbling low from both sides.

Grahn stepped in with a grunt, voice loud enough to snap the air. "Alright, enough. Save your snarling for the ring young ones. The full moon watches, so let's show it respect."

The drums answered first—steady, heavy, like a heartbeat rising. Brulac horns passed from hand to hand. Fires roared higher, throwing sparks to the night sky. Warriors clapped shoulders and barked rough laughter as the tension eased.

But Eryx didn't take his eyes off Ayu. He wiped a claw across his jaw, the grin on his face sharp as a blade.

"When's the ring drawn?" he called, loud enough for all to hear. "Brulac's good, fire's bright—but I'm tired of waiting. The moon likes its offering in red."

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