Ugh, Lou.
Every week, it was the same brutal dance.
Sparring.
A glorified euphemism for getting my ass handed to me on a silver platter.
Tsk.
He claimed it had two goals:
Nudging me closer to manifesting my Eidos: Fine. Whatever. I was already close to perfecting an idea, anyway. Another two or three sleepless nights, and my Eidos would be fancier than Lou's. Forcing the old coot to loosen up: Now that, my friend, was comedic gold.
For him, that is.
For me? A NIGHTMARE.
An unstable, painful, infuriating NIGHTMARE. ALLALALA!!!
Sigh.
Alright, then. Just another Tuesday.
Fresh off dumping my emotional baggage on him the night before (because apparently, that was what passed for bonding in this crazy world), I now stood before Lou again.
This time, though…
A flicker of defiance burned in my chest.
Maybe, just maybe, today would be different.
Maybe today, I wouldn't get flattened like a goddamn pancake.
I surged forward, fueled by an endless torrent of Flow. Energy crackled through my limbs, coiling like black lightning.
My heel rocketed toward Lou's head, a strike swift and vicious.
Lou barely flinched.
His head dipped—just a fraction—the air whistling past his ear as my kick sailed harmlessly over.
A steel grip clamped around my ankle.
Was I surprised? Not really. His defensive reactions were as fast as Romeo's.
…And that Romeo dude even dodged me.
Lou lunged a fist aimed squarely at my gut.
Reacting on instinct, I slammed both forearms into his attack.
The impact rattled my bones.
Pain shot through my arms.
Ow.
Ow ow ow.
...Ow.
Still, I wasn't done. I refused to be done.
Ignoring the throbbing ache, I twisted midair—my free leg carving through the space between us.
Another brutal arc.
Another attempt to slam my foot into his skull.
That damned Sponsor. He anticipated my move.
A heartbeat before my kick connected, he released my ankle, springing back with a nimble leap.
But he wasn't done.
Another gorilla-strong punch rocketed toward my midsection.
I barely managed to block it with a single arm—yet the sheer force of the blow sent me flying meters back.
Ow…
Here's to Lou being a Harmonizer and still hitting like a damn Vanguard.
I skidded across the rough ground, lungs screaming as they fought to refill with air.
Lou was a marvel of Flow control.
He never telegraphed his moves—his body subtly hardening at the point of impact just before striking. Unlike me, everyone had a limited stock of Flow, but he rationed his like a goddamn war general.
It was a terrifying display of mastery.
"That all you got, Bug?"
His booming voice snapped me out of my daze.
Before I could even blink, he was on me.
A fist cocked back.
The final blow incoming.
YIKES.
I twisted into aroll—just in time.
His fist met earth, the impact shattering the ground beneath it. A spray of dirt and debris exploded into the air.
Heart hammering, I kicked up into a handstand, legs flailing in a frantic whirlwind.
This wasn't about offense.
I just needed space.
Distance.
Some room to breathe before that terrifying lunatic caved my ribs in.
Lou narrowed his eyes but stepped back.
"Good," he rumbled.
Tsk. Standard tactics weren't working.
Gritting my teeth, I ripped the Morphblade from my pocket. The familiar weight steadied me.
I channeled a torrent of Flow, raw energy coalescing into a wickedly barbed whip.
With a feral snarl, I lashed out.
The whip snapped through the air with a vicious hiss.
Lou dipped his head—just enough for the razor-sharp barbs to whistle past.
Tch. Not done yet.
I yanked the hilt, the whip twisting midair—this time, aiming for his legs.
A flicker of surprise crossed his face. But it was fleeting. His foot slammed down, pinning the whip to the ground with a decisive thud.
Exactly as planned.
I twisted my grip on the whip, using it as an anchor to launch myself toward him in a blur of motion.
Lou's eyes widened, the distance between us vanishing in a heartbeat. A vicious low kick lanced toward his knee—perfectly timed, perfectly placed—
Except…
Instead of the expected impact, our faces nearly collided, noses just inches apart.
A single bead of sweat trickled down his forehead—the only sign of exertion on his normally stoic face.
I smirked.
Progress.
But my victory turned to ash in my mouth the moment Lou twisted midair, propelling himself backward in a fluid leap.
An opening.
Even Sponsors couldn't fly. Being airborne was a disadvantage—even for him, "Got you."
I scrambled to my feet, my Morphblade responding instantly to my will.
In a flash of black, it morphed into a sleek spear, the tip humming with potent Flow.
No hesitation.
With a powerful throw, I hurled the weapon, the air whistling as it tore toward Lou's exposed frame.
A sharp click escaped his lips—a sound devoid of humor.
Then— YES!
The spear pierced his left shoulder, embedding deep into his flesh.
He winced, a flicker of pain flashing across his face as my burning Flow surged through the wound.
A rush of triumph surged through me.
PROGRESSSS!
Hands raised high, I let out a half-laugh, half-cheer. Finally!
Yet—My happiness was short-lived.
Lou's fingers closed around the spear's shaft.
With barely a pause, he ripped it free—blood trickling down his arm—as he hurled the weapon straight back at me with astonishing force.
The entire exchange happened in mere heartbeats.
The spear was a dark blur against the setting sun, a streak of death hurtling toward me.
Dear Lou… did you really forget?
This was my weapon. My Flow.
With a flick of my wrist, I severed the Flow coursing through the Morphblade.
In an instant, the deadly projectile disintegrated, reduced to nothing more than a harmless hilt that landed at my feet with a dull thud.
Easy. Maybe… too easy.
For a single, fleeting second—pride had clouded my judgment.
And against Lou, even a second of arrogance could mean death.
The ground trembled, a low, ominous rumble vibrating through my bones.
Then—
BAM!
A pillar of stone exploded from beneath me, ramming into my gut with a sickening whump.
Air—gone.
My body launched skyward, limbs flailing like a startled ragdoll. Seriously, again?!
"Ow!" I yelped, more indignant than pained as I sailed through the air. "Lou! Do you have some kind of personal vendetta against my gut?!"
A breathless laugh escaped me.
This crazy training was starting to grow on me—bizarre attacks and all.
No time to waste. Ignoring the throbbing ache, I channeled Flow into the Morphblade, the familiar weight solidifying into a sleek, black sword just in time.
Because another earthen pillar shot toward me—This time, I was ready.
A single, well-timed slash—
CLANG!
The stone shattered, crumbling into a shower of pebbles.
But victory wasn't really into me, I gotta say.
Two more pillars erupted in rapid succession, their Flow-enhanced sturdiness proving too much for my hurried strikes.
They slammed into me with brutal force, the impact knocking the wind out of me before sending me hurtling back toward the earth.
CRASH.
Pain exploded through my body as I crashed into the ground in a heap.
"Ow… ow… ow…" I groaned, peeling my eyes open—
—just in time to see Lou looming over me, fist cocked back for the final blow.
"Dammit, Lou!" Instinct kicked in. Adrenaline surged, and I threw everything I had into the Morphblade.
Too much. Far too much.
The Flow inside me howled, wild and untamed, resisting my control.
The Morphblade twisted, refusing to take shape, its hilt pulsing with raw, unstable energy.
The air around me crackled, distorting from the sheer intensity of the uncontained Flow.
And then—For the first time in a while… I saw it.
Fear. In Lou's eyes.
His fist halted mid-strike, his expression flickering from calculated focus to something far more primal. He stumbled backward, gaze locked onto the writhing mass of power coiling around my weapon—no, around me.
A shiver ran down my spine.
This power—
This raw, overwhelming power—For the briefest, most terrifying moment… I reveled in it. It was the very first time I unleashed my aura.
I didn't hesitate.
This was my chance.
I scrambled to my feet and lunged, the Morphblade finally responding to my desperate will. Its unstable energy coalesced into the familiar, ominous shape of Death's Tear.
My swings came fast and feral, a whirlwind of rage and raw Flow. Each strike burned with the remnants of my earlier loss, with the frustration of being overpowered time and time again.
Lou dodged the first.
Then the second.
But something was different.
His movements—always so precise, so calculated—grew more erratic, less effortless.
I was pushing him.
Finally, with a grunt of exertion, Lou drew his own blade, its silver edge gleaming under the dying light.
CLANG!
The moment our weapons met, a shockwave of unseen force detonated through my body.
My chest seized—
My vision blurred—
Then—
BOOM.
It was like an invisible hand had slammed into me, hurling me backward like a discarded doll.
I crashed onto the ground, the impact stealing the breath from my lungs.
Pain splintered through me, but it wasn't just from the fall.
It was from that force—
That impossibly precise force Lou had unleashed.
Above me, Lou loomed, his blade lowered, his entire stance shifted. Gone was the playful taunt, the ever-present smirk. In its place was something colder, more definitive.
"Sparring is over."
His voice left no room for argument, "Go get some rest."
The clearing fell into silence, thick and oppressive.
I just lay there, staring up at him, my mind a whirlwind.
That raw power—that moment when everything in my body screamed that something had just happened.
What the hell was that?
Some hidden technique?
A trump card he had never used before?
Had I finally pushed him far enough to force him to reveal it?
No.
This wasn't him showing off.
This was him putting me back in my place.
A humorless chuckle escaped my lips, dry and hollow.
Lou narrowed his eyes. He lowered his sword, watching me carefully, as if…
As if he wasn't entirely sure what I'd do next.
"Don't you think you went a little overboard there, Lou?"
My voice was hoarse, my breath still uneven as I pushed myself upright. Everything ached, but I forced myself to stand, brushing the dirt from my clothes—a futile attempt to restore some dignity.
Lou didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he stood there, watching me, his brow furrowed in that way that meant he was thinking too hard about something. Then, with deliberate slowness, he raised a finger and pointed at his still-bleeding shoulder, where my Flow still burned in the wound.
"Overboard?" he echoed, his tone gruff, his expression unreadable.
Then, to my complete and utter disbelief, the bastard sighed.
"Perhaps. But that simply means you got better. Congratulations."
There was something odd in his voice—not praise, not pride, but an irritation that didn't quite belong. Like he wasn't happy about it. Like I had crossed a line I wasn't supposed to.
I scoffed, flopping onto the ground with a tired smirk. "Congrats? With that kind of scare tactic?"
Lou ignored me, taking his damn time tending to his wound, his Flow slowly mending the damage. Must be nice, healing like that. Meanwhile, I was still nursing bruises from two fights ago.
"Besides," I continued, letting the smirk fade, my voice dropping into something sharper, more serious. "I have a question, Lou."
His gaze snapped to me.
For a moment, he didn't speak. Then, without a word, he sat down beside me, an unspoken invitation to continue.
"That trick you pulled just now," I said, forcing my voice to stay even. "What was that?"
Nothing.
Not even the usual smirk.
Just a slow, careful blink.
"It was…" I hesitated, trying to put it into words. "It was a first for me. That moment when our blades touched—"
I clenched my fist, recalling the exact instant—that invisible force, that overwhelming push, like something had rejected me at a level beyond just raw strength.
"That force just threw me back—what was that, Lou?"
Lou stroked his chin, a deep hum rumbling in his chest. His eyes flickered with something—understanding, recognition… maybe even amusement.
"I see, I see," he muttered, nodding to himself. "Yes, it makes sense now."
Did it, though?
Because I sure as hell didn't get it.
Lou's grasp of subtlety was about as delicate as a warhammer to the face. Sometimes, I genuinely wondered if hitting him over the head with a textbook would make him a better teacher.
"That," he rumbled, folding his arms, "will have to wait for another time. You'll learn it once you attend Chasles Academy anyway."
The disappointment hit hard.
"Oh, come on," I whined, puffing out my cheeks like a petulant child. "You're the most annoying teacher ever!"
Honestly, the man could drive a saint to tears.
Lou let out a long-suffering sigh, one I'd heard way too many times.
"And you," he countered, his lips twitching upward, "are the most arrogant bug I've ever trained."
I scoffed, crossing my arms. "I'm also the only bug you'll ever trained."
A beat of silence.
Then—
"…Arrogant Bug…"
Lou groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Ugh. Forget I said anything."
He shifted slightly, his fingers hovering near my back, and I felt it—a faint silver shimmer as his Flow began mending my wounds. The familiar energy seeped into my muscles, soothing the ache like a warm rush of adrenaline.
It was only then that I realized something.
Lou's Flow was… strange.
It didn't feel like Romeo's, which had this gentle, calming aura.
It definitely wasn't like mine, which carried an edge of fear, danger—something wild and untamed.
No, Lou's Flow was something else entirely.
It didn't soothe. It didn't terrify.
It pushed.
Like an unseen hand urging me forward, daring me to keep going. It radiated something deeper than power—motivation.
…Fitting for a mentor, I had to admit.
"Think you've got any leads on that Eidos yet?" Lou's voice interrupted my thoughts.
I sighed. I really didn't want him to bring that up.
"I'm getting there," I muttered. "I'll just surprise you with it one day."
Lou didn't respond right away, but I could feel his smirk. It was annoying.
(And okay, maybe a tiny part of me wanted to sock him in the arm.)
"Isn't it taking you longer than expected?" he mused, tilting his head. "We're talking about a toddler who grasped everything in no time. Almost killed her uncle, even."
I froze.
"And I know you've been training during your night shifts, too."
I froze².
What.
Since when was Lou able to pull strings like that? Wasn't he just dumb?
I narrowed my eyes. "Annoying."
He just shrugged. "So, is it really not done yet?"
I clenched my fists.
Then, after a long pause, I shook my head.
"Just wait a little longer."
"Hey, I know this might sound weird, but… the more we train together, the more this whole Eidos thing seems to slip through my fingers."
Lou let out a dry chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, shocking," he drawled. "Most people say discovering their Eidos is a real pain in the ass."
I shot him a side-eye, but before I could retort, he finished healing me with a final pat on my back. A wave of relief coursed through my body, the lingering aches dulling almost instantly.
Then, I turned to him—and nearly choked on air.
"Whoa—" My eyes widened. More than half of his Flow was gone.
I knew I'd pushed myself hard, but… did I really drain him this much?
"Man, I really wrung you dry this time, huh?" I teased, shaking my head.
Lou shrugged, unbothered. Typical.
"Discovering their Eidos is such a drag, huh?" I mused, echoing his earlier words. Then, narrowing my eyes, I smirked. "Why do I get the feeling that someone just... handed yours to you on a silver platter? Like, 'Here you go, Lou, have an Eidos! No struggle required.'"
It was meant to be a jab.
A joke.
But then—
"Yeah," Lou said without hesitation, his tone completely casual. "Someone did hand me my Eidos on a silver platter."
…
I blinked.
Then I tilted my head. "Come again?"
Lou blinked right back.
Then—he reached over and straightened my head for me.
"Someone taught me my own Eidos," he repeated.
…
Huh?
…
Eh?
…
WHAT.
I stared at him, waiting for some kind of follow-up—a smirk, a punchline, anything—but he just stared back, completely serious.
What kind of bullsh—"…Comment?"