They slept in shifts—Aisho, Yuta, and Cassidy.

  Aisho sat alone by the fire now. Rain clouds murmured outside. She sat with her knees up to her chest with her arms wrapped around her legs. Cassidy was huddled by the wall. Yuta lay nearby.

  Aisho did not feel well. A sort of unease.

  Her eyes wandered to the cave entrance. That was when she noticed a faint trail of light. It glowed gold.

  She blinked. The light hadn’t been there earlier.

  Aisho rose slowly, hesitant. Was it some kind of illusion? A warning? A trap?

  She took a step forward—now halfway outside their hideout.

  She felt a heartbeat in her chest—in her Seishinryu—it was drawing her to it.

  Looking back at her sleeping friends, her jaw tightened.

  This was against their rules. They were supposed to stay together. The Trials weren’t over. They could be hunted. Anything could be out there.

  With a sigh, she turned towards the light and followed

  The glowing trail pulsed faintly with each step, lighting the mud and stones and fallen leaves in gold.

  It began to rain, darkening her hair and clothes. The illuminated path seemed unaffected.

  Her boots splashed softly as she walked.

  Aisho soon felt an unexplainable sensation. As though she was walking into something. Her mind flickered to Trace, to Cassidy, to Yuta, to Daryl, even to Ella.

  To herself.

  Finally, she stepped into a clearing—a wide circle of rock. It looked neither manmade nor natural. A circle of stone pillars defined the edges.

  Also approaching the stone arena was him.

  Aisho froze.She hadn’t seen him before. But somehow… she knew.

  The boy narrowed his dark eyes and said. “Hello… copy.”

  The words sliced across the rain.

  Aisho’s breath hitched. “...What did you just say?”

  The boy raised his head. Just enough for her to see his eyes—amethyst.

  “I wondered what you’d look like in person,” he continued, stepping forward. “I thought they’d get my looks right, guess not.”

  “You’re…” she started. Her voice faltered

  The rain ran down her face, mixed with confusion, frustration, and tension.

  “You’re him,” she finally said. “You’re the one my Seshinryu warned me about. You’re—”

  “Ohsia,” he said. His voice was plain.

  The two stood beneath the rain, face to face. Edge of the arena to edge. Aisho’s eyes narrowed.

  The clearing felt like the eye of a storm. No birds. No wind. Just the hiss of rain on stone and the pressure between them.

  A mirror meeting its twin.

  An experiment meeting its blueprint.

  Truth meeting lies

  “Are you here to fight me?” she asked.

  “Fight you?” Ohsia didn’t move. “No. I’m here to kill you.”

  His mere threat was enough to have Aisho shaking, but she tried to calm herself. She could feel Ohsia’s Dragon Vein pressure and the sheer strength of it—it was much stronger than hers.

  Rain washed over them.

  “You’re gonna kill me?” Aisho said, voice thick with disbelief. “That’s one way to introduce yourself. Did you rehearse that line?”

  Ohsia didn’t answer. He tilted his head slightly.

  “You're not what I imagined,” he said.

  “And you're exactly what I expected,” she snapped back. “Let me guess, you have the same Yogen as me?”

  He shrugged, simply.

  Without another word, Ohsia vanished in a violet light.

  Aisho barely had time to react before he reappeared behind her. Instinct took over. She turned, raising her arms just in time to block a strike.

  But it wasn’t a punch. It was his finger—he jabbed, grazing Aisho’s arm, drawing blood.

  Aisho cried out, clutching the spot. She thought: What was that move?

  Ohsia didn’t speak. He vanished again.

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  Aisho stepped back, heart hammering.

  Ohsia flickered back into view mid-charge, arm drawn back.

  She moved faster, dodging the attack—countering with a kick.

  It was parried.

  They exchanged blocks, counters, and parries—occasionally using their Yogen to get around each other.

  During a precise dodge, her foot planted, and her body pivoted low. She ducked under his strike and punched him square in the ribs.

  She meant to use Retsin Pulse, but still couldn’t activate it properly

  Ohsia leapt back. His eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re faster than I thought.”

  Aisho smirked.

  “I’m faster, though,” Ohsia said. “Aisho, now tell me—can you do this?”

  He powered his Yogen, running violet circles around Aisho.

  This time, he leapt into the air and came at her from above—Nister Surge. Purple lightning laced around him like a storm. He slammed downward with a heel kick.

  Aisho contested his attack by meeting his Nister Surge with an attack of her own.

  Golden lightning exploded from her fist, and a wing of blinding spiritual light surged from her back—Retsin Pulse.

  A calamity of gold and amethyst swirled together in blinding light. Retsin Pulse against Nister Surge.

  Aisho smirked and thought: Yes! It worked!

  A cloud of dust and smoke plumed outward.

  Aisho and Ohsia were pushed back, skidding across the stone.

  “I didn’t know you had a Retsin Pulse of your own,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “But it’s not surprising, since you are my copy and all. What’s it called?”

  “You call yours Retsin Pulse,” Ohsia rubbed his chin. “I also assume Retsin is the name of your Seishinryu. Nister Surge is the name of my attack.”

  Ohsia smirked for a moment. “During our scuffle. I was merely testing you. I gauged my power to rival yours.”

  Had Ohsia merely been playing with her? Before Aisho could react, Ohsia was already in front of her. He moved way faster than before. He swung and hit her in her gut.

  Like a ragdoll, she flew backwards, stopping only when her body slammed into a pillar.

  The rain fell harder now.

  The wind left her lungs. She tried to stand but coughed and dropped to a knee—her channeling Retsin Pulse drained her of her energy.

  Ohsia laughed. “I must say… I pity you.”

  Aisho struggled to say a word. After all, she was at her foe’s mercy.

  “I’m not done yet,” Aisho hissed.

  “You should be,” he replied.

  “You don’t get it,” she wheezed. “I don’t know who you are and why you’re here. I don’t care if you’re my copy or if I’m yours.”

  He stared.

  She met his eyes, trembling but unbroken.

  Aisho stood, still shaky. “And I’m not responsible for whatever you went through or how we’re here face to face. I’m. Still. Aisho. Omari.”

  The rain continued to fall.

  The silence between Aisho and Ohsia grew heavy—then shattered.

  Clack. Clack. Clack.

  Footsteps echoed through the rain. A figure walked between the pillars, staff tapping on the stone with every step.

  Ohsia’s gaze sharpened. “...Jozen.”

  Aisho turned. The man approaching was Jozen. The same person she’d seen in the first stage.

  “Well, well, well,” Jozen said, voice smooth. “You’re still standing, Aisho. That’s... impressive. And disappointing.”

  Aisho hesitated. “Jozen?”

  “Oh, I knew it the moment I saw you in Stage Zero,” his smile widened. “I see your potential.”

  Ohsia shifted, clearly irritated. “Why are you here, Jozen?”

  Jozen shrugged. “You weren’t going to kill her yet, were you?”

  “I was getting there,” Ohsia muttered.

  Aisho’s instincts flared. Her Yogen pulsed, lightning curling around her shoulder. She focused for a second—channeling whatever Dragon Vein energy she had left and bolted.

  “Don’t,” Jozen said, throwing a hand out to stop Ohsia as he made a move.

  “What?” Ohsia’s eyes narrowed. “She’s escaping.”

  “She’s not escaping. She’s becoming,” Jozen said.

  Ohsia clenched a fist, his voice was quiet. “She’ll come back stronger.”

  “You worried she’ll become stronger than you?” Jozen replied.

  Jozen held up a string in front of Ohsia. The string had two Beacon Cards tied neatly into it. “Look what I got.”

  ***

  Aisho ran until her lungs screamed. Her Seishinryu Line faltered. Her Dragon Vein energy reservoirs—completely empty.

  She hit the ground hard, knees collapsing beneath her. Mud splashed across her arms and face. Her fingernails clawed the soil. She tried to rise but failed.

  "Yuta… Cassidy…" Her voice, a whisper.

  She reached for her beacon cards, but they were missing.

  Then she heard footsteps in front of her.

  Slow. Careful.

  Her heart lurched.

  A man stepped through the trees. Wide-brimmed hat low over his brow. A red shawl covers the lower half of his face. At his side was an old crimson revolver.

  He stopped five paces away. Said nothing.

  "Hey,” he said, crouching low. “You’re the one Jozen was talking to."

  Her breath froze. "What?"

  "I heard your name," he said. "Aisho Omari."

  She stiffened.

  "I was watching," he said as he tapped his revolver. "Would’ve stepped in if it got worse."

  Aisho said nothing

  He reached into his coat and pulled out three beacon cards. He tossed them down in front of her.

  “Make sure you pass these trials,” he said.

  She hesitated. Then took them.

  “I was going to die,” she snapped. “Jozen was going to kill me. Ohsia was in on it too. Who are you? And why help me?”

  He didn’t argue. He didn’t offer comfort either. He tapped the brim of his hat. “Driske. Driske Kormo.”

  "I saw the whole thing. Didn't interfere because I needed to see how deep you'd go before you broke."

  Aisho stayed silent.

  "You were still standing,” Driske said.

  She stared at him.

  “Yes, I didn’t help,” he said, shrugging. “But I’ve stopped chasing redemption a long time ago.”

  Silence.

  "I don’t mean to poke in on your business since it all seems complicated," he said. “But you remind me of myself when I was your age. You must be mad. You should be.”

  “I am.”

  “Good. Don’t waste it.”

  She sat there, cards clutched in her hands.

  “Why me?” she asked. “Why not some other candidate?”

  He turned slightly.

  “You’re not a candidate,” he said. “You’re bait. And you don’t even know what for yet.”

  Then he started walking.

  "Wait," she called. "What am I supposed to do with that?"

  Driske didn’t look back. But he raised his hand.

  "You’ll figure it out,” he said. “You’re still breathing.”

  Then he was gone.

  Aisho sat in the mud, drenched and dirty.

  She didn’t trust him. She didn’t understand him.

  “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.”

  — 2 Corinthians 4:8-9 (NIV)