Zane found himself caught in the coldness of her gaze. There was no anger in it, no sadness either—only the weight of experience, the shadow of countless lives taken in the name of duty. It wasn't just bloodlust. It was something deeper, more ingrained. It was survival.
The souls Fiora had killed weren't nameless to her. That was what made it even more haunting. She'd looked into the faces of the innocent-turned-monster and ended them—again and again.
What looked like heroism from the outside, Zane now realized, was far from noble on the inside.
'I didn't know… I didn't know they carried such a burden.' His fingers slowly curled into a fist. 'Am I going to carry that too? Forever?'
The weight of that question pressed on his chest like a boulder. Killing monsters? Sure, he had come to terms with that. But killing them with the knowledge that they had once been like him… that they had lives, hopes, people… That was something else entirely.
"Take your time to let that sink in, Zane," Fiora said, her voice breaking his spiraling thoughts. "You've still got a little time to accept it. But the sooner you do, the easier it'll be for you to adapt. And that's your first real mission as a Dimensional Knight—adaptation. Learn everything. Embrace everything."
"..." Zane nodded faintly, staring into the reflection of his cup. "How long did it take you? To accept all of this?"
Fiora leaned back and tilted her head thoughtfully. "My situation was… different. I didn't have the luxury of time. I had to adapt fast. Sink or swim. Took me a few months."
"A few months…" he echoed softly.
'I wonder what forced her hand.' He studied her expression—neutral, almost unreadable. But there was something in her eyes, a flicker of pain quickly masked. 'Not that I'll have much time either. I didn't sign up to play this game forever. I just want to find those bastards… and end it.'
He took a sharp breath, clearing his head of doubt. "Well, I don't have any other choice, do I? No point lamenting over it. I'll accept it quickly."
Fiora's lips curled into a faint smile. "Good. That's the spirit. You'll make a fine Knight, Zane. I can see it in your eyes. You've seen hell…"
She leaned closer, her eyes sharp. "And those who've seen hell and made it back? They survive the longest."
"..." He pursed his lips. "You're really good at motivational speeches. I'm this close to being actually motivated," he said dryly.
"Aunt Fiora is always ready to deliver soul-stirring inspiration," she said with a wink, her tone playful again.
"Oh, we're using titles now?" Zane chuckled. "How old are you again, Aunt Fiora?"
"Take a guess."
"Hm… 39?"
Fiora nearly spat out her coffee. "Thirty-nine?!" she coughed between laughs and sputters. "You brat! I'm not even in my thirties yet!"
"You asked for a guess," Zane shrugged, grinning. "And honestly, you don't look too far off."
"You—!" She narrowed her eyes, a playful vein popping on her forehead. "You're lucky I'm calm and collected or I'd be beating your ass like a kid, right here and now."
Zane raised his hands in mock surrender, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he stood up. "Well, I assume our deep and life-changing conversation is over. I'll go prep for the trip."
Fiora gave him a nod and a softer smile. "Thanks for keeping me company. See you in two days."
He turned toward the exit when she suddenly called out. "Hey, Zane—wait."
He glanced back just in time to see her walking up to him. "One quick question. You received your Core Blade, right?"
"Yeah," he replied, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Well… just a suggestion," she said with a casual shrug, "but if you want or need help, I could give you some pointers. Practice with me."
Zane blinked. "Practice? Like… actual sword training?"
"Yeah. I can teach you a few basics. If you're open to it."
His mind blanked for a moment. It had come out of nowhere—and yet, it felt like a perfect opportunity. Being trained by a seasoned Knight? That was priceless. Especially when his own swordsmanship knowledge was… basically nonexistent.
"You sure? Don't you have, I don't know… actual responsibilities?"
Fiora laughed lightly. "Nah. I wrapped up my work early. Tomorrow's wide open. I figured I could spend it doing something worthwhile." She winked. "Think of it as an exclusive class."
"…Yeah, I'd love that. I seriously have no idea how to use a sword."
"Hmm. That's a problem," she said, tapping her chin. "Well, we'll start with the basics. Enough for you to know what to practice on your own afterward."
She raised her index finger, grinning. "Meet me tomorrow morning. 7:00 AM. Right in front of that convenience store where we met earlier."
"Got it."
"And don't be late. I hate unpunctual people."
With that, Zane finally bid her farewell and exited the café, his steps light but his mind racing. Once he was a good distance away, he stopped and exhaled deeply.
"I got myself a mentor… out of nowhere. That's some serious luck," he muttered. "Only one day of training, but I'll squeeze every drop of knowledge I can from it."
He turned and resumed walking, heading home.
***
The rest of Zane's evening was a repeat of his daily regimen. Physical training. Energy control. Experimenting with his Stigma. But the returns were already thinning.
His body had adapted to the early spikes in growth. Now, even hours of hard training have only resulted in one single point in all stats. Progress had slowed—but it hadn't stopped.
His control over the Stigma was still elusive. There was no breakthrough, no deeper resonance. But even so, every small advance counted.
Afterward, he gave himself time to rest, shutting down his mind just enough to sleep. He woke up at 6:00 AM sharp and quickly got ready.
Leaving the house ten minutes early, he arrived at the agreed-upon meeting spot. The streets were still quiet, painted in muted greys and faint blues. The air was cold—so cold, he had to wear an extra-thick jacket.
"I got here earlier than expected," Zane mumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He ducked into a nearby alleyway to wait. "Fuuh… I hate cold weather. I really do."
"Seems like someone's grumpy this early in the morning."
"Whoa!" Zane jumped back, nearly stumbling over himself. Fiora stood next to him with a smug smile on her face.
"Fiora?! Where the hell did you come from?"
She tilted her head, grinning. "Just a little trick I have. You'll learn it someday. Maybe."
He exhaled slowly, trying to calm his startled nerves. "Right. You know, normal people say 'hi' instead of giving others a heart attack."
"Where's the fun in that?" she said with a shrug. "Anyway, since you're here, let's get moving."
"Wait—where exactly are we going?"
"To the perfect place for some private practice…"
Her smile widened as she turned, leading the way.
"…My hotel room."
Zane froze.
"...Eh?"