"Onilia, you blue-skinned witch..."
Zane wanted to scream it aloud, but he knew better.
Saying that now would only earn him a one-way ticket to the afterlife—courtesy of her sword.
She stood still, watching him with those piercing sapphire eyes as she lowered her blade. Her expression was unreadable as always—somewhere between boredom and focus.
"If you can't continue," she said, her voice calm but firm, "then we'll pick it up tomorrow."
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked away, heading toward the gravity ropes.
The red one had already been yanked five times that day—each time intensifying the pressure of crushing gravity around them by multiple times.
She gave the blue rope a sharp pull. A low hum echoed in the air as the oppressive weight surrounding the training ground instantly lifted. It was like a blanket of iron had finally been peeled off.
Zane let out a deep breath, his muscles relaxing involuntarily. His body still hurt, but at least now he could move without feeling like his bones were about to shatter.
Onilia left without another word, her figure disappearing into the darkness.
Zane remained lying flat on his back, staring into nothingness. He was looking but he saw nothing. It was as if his mind's eye was focused on something else. His chest slowly rose and fell as exhaustion pulled at him like invisible chains.
"I guess it's time to go back to Earth…" he muttered to himself.
But how?
"The Whisperkin brought me here," he muttered, dragging himself to a sitting position, "so… do I call its name or something? Maybe Instructor Marius will know. I'll just ask him tomorrow."
Groaning, he staggered to his feet and headed toward the bathing room.
There was a time when even opening a door here had been a challenge. On his first day, the door wouldn't budge no matter how hard he pushed. He had ended up falling backward, humiliated.
Not anymore.
This time, he slammed the door open with enough force to make it swing against the wall. A small victory, but it felt damn good.
Inside, the air was cool, and runes embedded into the walls glowed with a soft golden light, illuminating the bath chamber with a calming warmth. Stone pipes released fresh, crystal-clear water into a deep basin, creating a soft rushing sound that echoed through the room like a river in a cave.
Zane peeled off his sweat-soaked clothes and stepped into the water. It hit his skin like a blessing—cool, clean, and rejuvenating.
The water flowed over him like a sacred stream, washing away the dirt, the blood, and perhaps a few sins he'd earned through all the fights, the stubbornness, and the death-defying moments. He stayed under the stream for a while, letting it soothe his aching muscles and heavy thoughts.
The mirror above the stone sink shimmered faintly under the runes' glow.
He looked up and stared at his reflection.
His hair had turned white. Not just a streak—but fully white. It wasn't from age or dye, but from the unbearable stress and pressure of the training. Even though he regenerated every time he died or got injured, the toll was still there.
His body bore the proof.
Scars traced across his chest, a few on his face, arms, and back—faint but visible. His once-skinny frame had transformed. He wasn't bulky, but his muscles were defined now. His abs were visible—firm packs carved by sheer pain and persistence. His shoulders were broader, his eyes deeper.
"I wonder if Ariel would even recognize me now…" he whispered.
He dried off, pulled on some comfortable training pants, and stepped out of the bath chamber.
The bedroom was cozy, with more runes glowing faintly in the corners, casting a golden hue over the room.
He dropped onto the bed without a second thought, his limbs falling limp.
Usually, thoughts of Earth would fill his mind—his little sister, the destruction, the chaos. But tonight was different.
Tonight, he thought of Onilia.
He thought of how strong she was. Not just physically—mentally too. She never showed weakness—not even once.
He remembered how, when Instructor Marius first arrived, he had doubted her. He had tested her loyalty, thinking she had some hidden motive for helping him.
He had accused her of wanting something in return.
And yet… she never asked for anything.
She trained him, stood by him, pushed him to survive—all without expecting anything in return.
"She's clearly going through a lot…" he thought. "Her planet is under threat. She has people to protect, a family… yet she never complains."
Most of the time, Zane couldn't even guess what she was thinking. She kept everything locked inside. She wasn't one to joke, laugh, or even hold long conversations. With the exception of Zane, she barely spoke to anyone unless absolutely necessary.
"She's not just strong. She's alone…"
His thoughts blurred together as the fatigue took over. His muscles finally relaxed, and his mind drifted into silence.
He didn't even know when he fell asleep.
"Big brother… please save me. I'm scared."
Ariel's voice trembled, soft and desperate, as the Whisperkin's long, jagged claw traced slowly along her throat.
She was tied tightly to a thick, gnarled tree, her arms stretched above her, wrists bound by coarse vines that bit into her skin. Her tiny frame shook, helpless and vulnerable. The forest around them was eerily silent, as if holding its breath.
The Whisperkin hovered beside her, its hunched form cloaked in shifting shadows. Its claw pressed deeper this time—just enough to break the skin. A thin red line formed, and a single droplet of blood slid down her neck like a tear. She squeezed her eyes shut, her lips trembling in fear.
Zane screamed in rage and panic, but when he tried to run to her, his feet wouldn't move.
His body pushed forward with all its might, but an invisible force held him back. No matter how much he struggled, he couldn't get any closer. The distance between them stretched like a cruel illusion. The harder he ran, the farther away she became.
"Big brother, please don't leave me…" Ariel cried again, her voice full of pain.
"Whisperkin, you bastard!" Zane roared. "You said you would wait!"
A voice echoed in his mind, cold and amused.
"What can I say?" The Whisperkin's voice slithered into his mind, dripping with mockery. "You were late. You only have yourself to blame."
Zane's heart raced as the world twisted around him. The sky darkened. Ariel's screams echoed louder—
And then—he jolted upright.
His chest heaved. Sweat soaked his clothes. His breath came in short, sharp gasps. The nightmare still clung to his skin like frost.
The room was bathed in warm morning light, soft rays spilling through the stone-framed window. The air was quiet, broken only by the chirping of distant sky-birds and the faint rustle of wind.
"Are you alright?" a voice asked gently.
Zane turned toward the sound—and froze.
Onilia stood near the doorway, her sapphire eyes locked onto his. She wore a simple sleeveless dress that hugged her form, every line moving with a dancer's grace.
Zane swallowed and wiped his face, suddenly aware of the warm trails running down his cheeks.
"Yeah…" he murmured, his voice still shaky. "Is it already time for Instructor Marius's training?"
But Onilia didn't answer right away. Her gaze lingered on him a moment longer, her expression unreadable.
"We should eat first," she finally said, voice soft but distant. Without another word, she turned and walked away, her long silver hair trailing behind her like silk.
Zane stared after her, then reached up and touched his face again.
Tears.
He had been crying—and he hadn't even noticed. A lump formed in his throat, and he clenched his jaw.
I don't want to think about that dream. Not now. Not ever.
He rose from the bed, his body still sore from yesterday's training, and splashed some water on his face from the nearby basin.
Downstairs, Onilia moved with slow but steady grace, her boots barely making a sound on the polished stone steps.
And for the first time in a long while—she was truly worried.
She had seen Zane bleed. She had seen him broken, stabbed, crushed, and even die over and over again.
But not once—not even once—had she seen him shed a tear.
Until today.
"What could make him cry like that?" she wondered, her brows slightly furrowed. "Was it about that girl… Ariel?"
The name lingered in her mind like a whisper.
"If it is… then he must really love her."
The thought made her chest tighten in a strange, unfamiliar way. She didn't fully understand it—but she didn't like it either.
She reached the kitchen and started setting the plates, but her mind remained elsewhere, tangled in the image of Zane's tear-streaked face.
Zane made his way downstairs, his steps slow and heavy. The gentle creak of the wooden stairs beneath his feet echoed through the quiet space like a whisper of farewell.
One thing was certain—he had to return to Earth.
His thoughts were tangled, messy, and restless. Each step felt final, as if walking toward an ending he wasn't ready for. The scent of something like roasted bread and herbs hung faintly in the air, a comforting smell that clashed with the heaviness in his heart.
He reached the table and pulled the chair back with a dull scrape. The seat felt colder than usual as he sank into it. A plate of warm food sat in front of him—bread, dried meats, and sliced fruit—but his appetite was nowhere to be found. He picked up a piece of bread, broke it apart slowly, and then just let the crumbs fall back to the plate.
Across from him, Onilia sat in silence. She watched him quietly, her sapphire eyes soft yet distant. She noticed how he played with his food rather than eat it, his fingers fidgeting, his mind clearly elsewhere.
But she didn't say anything.
The silence between them was thick, almost suffocating, like the calm before a storm neither of them wanted to face.
Finally, Zane broke it.
"I'm going back to my planet."
His voice was calm, but it carried a quiet weight, like a truth he'd been holding back for too long.
Onilia froze.
Something inside her shifted, like a thin thread being cut. She had known deep down that this moment would come—they couldn't stay together forever. He didn't belong here, and she didn't belong there.
But still… it felt too soon.
Living with Zane had become a strange comfort. Amid all the burdens of her duty, her training, and the Interplanetary Awakened Tournament (IAT) hanging over her head—his presence had made things easier to bear. A little lighter. A little warmer.
But now…
Now he was leaving.
"When are you going back?" she asked, her voice low and distant. Her gaze remained fixed on her plate, unwilling to meet his eyes.
Zane stared at her for a moment, noticing the way her shoulders tensed ever so slightly.
"As soon as possible," he replied softly.
And then… silence again.
Zane expected her to say something but neither of them said another word for a long while. The only sound was the occasional clink of cutlery and the quiet hum of the wind outside brushing against the windowpanes.
The rest of their breakfast time had become a quiet battlefield of unspoken emotions.
When the meal was finally over, Onilia stood up slowly and brushed a few crumbs from her lap. She turned away, her face unreadable.
"We should get going," she said, her voice steady but lacking its usual sharpness.
Zane gave a small nod and pushed back his chair.
'I guess it's time for Instructor Marius's hellish session' he thought as he stood, pushing the chair back.