"Let me try something out for my brother," Elsie said, smiling warmly at Skyler. Her voice carried a gentle confidence, as if even a simple gesture now meant everything.
"Only for today."
"Really?" Skyler raised an eyebrow, a little surprised. Her expression softened into a curious smile.
Elsie nodded with calm certainty.
"Okay then," Skyler said, eyes lighting up. "Let's start with something simple."
She stood and tapped her finger on the side of her head, pretending to think hard. Her eyes blinked in quick patterns, like gears turning in her mind.
"Are you done thinking yet?" Elsie asked with a playful smirk, folding her arms as if waiting.
Skyler giggled, her mind already brimming with ideas. Elsie watched her, and for a moment, the weight of everything faded.
Tony was alive. He was back.
And right now, that was all that mattered.
Back in the judgment hall, the mood was different.
Yamin sat beside Jasmine, both of them dressed in ceremonial robes as they waited for the council meeting to begin. The hall was silent, the carved stone walls echoing faintly with every breath.
"How are the wounded soldiers?" Yamin asked quietly, not even looking at Jasmine. Her voice was soft, almost distant.
"They're safe," Jasmine replied after a pause. "Nothing to worry about."
Another pause.
They sat quietly, side by side, but their thoughts were not the same.
Yamin was far away in her mind. Not in this hall. Not even in this moment.
She was thinking of Tony.
She hadn't stopped thinking about him since the day he vanished. It wasn't just about what happened—it was something deeper. Something that lived in her chest and refused to let go.
"Have you… been thinking about Dad lately?" she asked after a long silence.
"Yeah," Jasmine replied, her voice low. "All the time."
Yamin hesitated.
"Why do you ask?" Jasmine asked, finally turning to her.
She didn't answer right away.
But Jasmine already knew.
"I know what you're trying to say," she said quietly, and then her tone sharpened. "That boy... Tony. The search team didn't find him. He escaped."
She turned to Yamin, locking eyes.
"Should I let you go search for him?" she asked, then shook her head firmly. "No. I won't."
Yamin lowered her gaze. She tried to stay calm, but the truth was already written on her face.
Something in her heart had changed.
Something was pulling her toward him.
"But he's the only chance we have to see Dad again," Yamin whispered, her voice trembling. "Only through him..."
Jasmine's jaw clenched. She took a deep breath before speaking again.
"Can you please stop bringing this up?" she said, her voice tired.
Then she turned around, softer now.
"I don't want to sound harsh. I just... I can't let you go out there looking for him. It's too dangerous. Your life means too much to me, Yamin."
She paused, taking a deep breath.
"I've already lost Dad."
The words spilled out in one breath, but the pain behind them had built for years.
And Yamin felt it.
Meanwhile, far from the judgment hall...
Elsie and Skyler sat together, calm and smiling.
"I made you something," Elsie said, holding out a small pouch. "What's the name again?"
Skyler thought for a second, then lit up.
"Moonshade Pearls."
"Yes! That's it." Elsie laughed. "Moonshade Pearls. I hope you like them."
They were bite-sized treats, made from spiced berries, honey herbs, and soft ground grain. As soon as Skyler tasted one, her eyes widened. They melted on her tongue, sweet and smooth, with a warm, calming aftertaste that felt like a hug.
Skyler didn't say anything. She just smiled and walked a little away, wanting to enjoy the quiet peace of the moment.
But elsewhere, something important was happening.
Inside the private lab of Z-12, the intelligent scientist stood near a glowing artifact, flipping through a worn-out book filled with old inscriptions. His eyes scanned every line, searching for the answer his research had hinted at.
"Inform the General. All is done," he told one of the rescue team members beside him.
But his mind was elsewhere.
He kept staring at the injured men's medical records.
How did they heal that fast?
"The book never mentioned anything like this," he muttered, confused. "Unless... I missed something."
He returned to the old text, brushing off the dust. The writing was hard to read—packed tightly, shaped in odd symbols.
His eyes squinted.
Too blurry. Too faded.
He reached into his bag and took out a pair of special reading lenses. The moment he wore them, the words sharpened, glowing faintly with a hidden truth.
He leaned closer.
At the top of the page, a title pulsed:
The Great Oparsin
He read aloud:
"Connected to a true ancestral line, in which the heart and soul shape the blade's fate."
"The bearer of the Oparsin sword—none dare challenge them."
"The sword wounds—but it does not curse."
"Forged in the Maghua Era by powerful yet kind gods."
"It offers a second chance. A wound may heal—not with medicine, but with love and will."
"Its power is emotional, not just physical. The bearer chooses—life or death."
Z-12 froze.
That was it.
The reason they healed.
The reason the soldiers survived wounds that should've ended them.
It wasn't a spell. Not some magic trick.
The bearer had healed them.
With their heart. With their intention.
He blinked and looked again at the final line:
"Praise the bearer… " but the question still remains .... "who is the bearer?"