There was one day left until the execution of Anna and Jane Spellman.
It had been over a week since the school year at Nevermore had ended.
As usual in recent months, Luke was training. Once again, his green aura.
Only this time, he was sparring with Enid.
Even in her human form, Enid was monstrously strong. Her base strength hovered around 13 tons, not counting her heightened senses and superior physical endurance. When she accessed a partial transformation, her strength shot up to 22 tons, and if she went all out, fully transforming into her werewolf form, she could reach nearly 30 tons of raw strength.
Luke, on the other hand, still hadn't reached 10 tons in pure physical strength, even after months of training with his green aura. To level the playing field, he also relied on his white aura.
Luke wasn't using his future vision to avoid Enid's attacks. He was training his intention detection technique.
This technique allowed him to sense the internal impulse of another being to act in the immediate future. It was especially effective for detecting bloodlust or murderous intent, as those psychic impulses were intense, piercing, and nearly impossible to conceal for most.
However, Enid didn't have a trace of hostility toward him. She adored him. She loved him. And even if she was fighting him, there wasn't a hint of murderous intent.
But Luke had developed a more refined variant of the original use.
Instead of relying solely on bloodlust, he had learned to read the micro-impulses of his opponent's actions, not dark intentions, but the psychic activation that precedes muscular movement.
Something like a shadow in the mind that signals what's about to come. Every time Enid decided to throw a punch or move, her brain sent a signal, and Luke had sharpened his perception enough to read those impulses before the body even moved.
Adding to that were his eyes, enhanced by clairvoyance. His eyes functioned like an advanced version of a hawk's: able to detect micro-expressions, muscle tension beneath the skin, the slightest movement of the shoulders or hips.
To anyone else, Enid moved like a fast beast.
To Luke, it was like watching her in slow motion, not ultra-slow, since it's no joke to move with over 10 tons of force, but his eyes could track her movements and even analyze her expressions, gestures, and more. Every step, every wrist twist, every blink… was data.
And Luke processed all of it.
Enid threw a punch at his torso, fast and precise.
Luke had already moved when her elbow barely bent. He twisted his body smoothly, letting the blow pass by inches, and countered with a punch aimed at her shoulder.
She blocked instantly, crossing her forearms in an X. The impact was sharp and clean. The force was enough to push her back a couple of steps in the dirt.
Luke couldn't help but click his tongue in frustration. He could anticipate her movements with surgical precision, but he still couldn't surpass her in pure speed.
His blows, though well-placed, couldn't break through her defense, Enid reacted on instinct; her body was faster than his.
He could speed up his punches using telekinesis… but that would be cheating. This sparring session was strictly physical. And he didn't want to hurt her.
Luke changed strategies.
If he couldn't win with his strength, he would use Enid's own momentum to defeat her.
Then the moment came.
Enid launched a direct punch at his face. Luke dodged it by mere millimeters, letting her arm pass over his shoulder and, in an instant, caught her extended wrist. He closed his fingers in a clean, precise grip before she could retract her arm after the failed strike.
In the same motion, Luke pivoted on his axis, pulling Enid's weight forward and down. He took her to the ground with a classic wrestling technique, adjusting the angle to make sure she wouldn't get hurt.
Enid hit the ground on her back with a dull thud, unable to do anything unless she activated her partial transformation, and that wasn't allowed.
Before Enid could get up, Luke was already on top of her, knees on the ground, one open and steady hand pressed gently against her neck.
He didn't squeeze, didn't apply force.
Enid knew, at Luke's current physical strength, he could crush her trachea in a second from that position.
"I win," said Luke softly, looking her straight in the eyes. His expression was calm. Confident. Dominant, but not cruel.
Enid blinked, still processing the takedown, the precision, the way he had immobilized her without violence.
Her heart was beating faster now, but not out of fear. She smiled shyly. She didn't ask him to get off. She didn't push his hand away from her neck.
On the contrary… the contact felt strange, intense… but also pleasant.
"That was flawless," Enid whispered. "Elegant, even."
"Thanks," Luke nodded.
Enid took a deep breath and continued, her gaze locked on his. "Only with your white and green aura… you beat someone with more than twice your physical strength."
Luke tilted his head, as if thinking it over for a second. "Yeah… but you're a werewolf. If you had used your partial transformation, I wouldn't have beaten you so easily."
They both knew it was true. Luke's physical strength was still growing. He was still green, in both senses of the word.
A smile formed on Enid's lips, soft and sincere. She liked that he wasn't arrogant. That he acknowledged his limits without taking anything away from his victory.
"Still," Enid went on, "if you added your telekinetic strength to boost your punches, move faster… plus your physical power… you could beat me even in my transformed state. Just hand-to-hand."
Luke looked at her in silence, but the faint smile on his lips revealed something else, he liked the praise. And it showed.
Enid hesitated for a second, as if she had said too much. But Luke simply removed his hand from her neck and stood up.
He offered her a hand.
"Is this part of your reconquest strategy too?" Luke asked with a teasing tone. "Compliments, flattery, technically detailed admiration..."
Enid blushed immediately. Her cheeks turned red, and she shook her head quickly, more forcefully than necessary, "No! I mean… that wasn't my intention…"
Luke let out a light, genuine laugh. "I'm joking," he said as Enid stood up, taking his hand.
"Though I have to admit, it's a good tactic. Wednesday gives out a compliment once every thousand years," he added.
Enid laughed at the comment, a soft, warm laugh, with that unmistakable spark Luke had always found contagious.
He looked at her a moment longer than he meant to, as if his memories were pulling him in without permission.
That laugh… he had heard it many times before. During training. In class. When they spent time together in the dorms at Nevermore.
Luke's chest rose with a deep breath. For a moment, his heart seemed to remember too.
"I missed this," Enid said once her laughter faded.
Luke blinked, coming out of the trance. "Missed what?"
"Training with you," Enid replied without hesitation.
Luke didn't respond right away. He simply lowered his gaze, thoughtful.
The last time they had trained like this, aside from these past few days since Enid arrived at Addams Manor and the whole polygamy situation began, had been before the Blood Moon at Nevermore. It had been over a year.
Back then, Enid wasn't his girlfriend, but they had the promise. In the end, after that, Luke had chosen Wednesday.
Not because he wanted to hurt Enid, but because that's what he felt in that moment.
Luke sat on the ground, leaning his back against the wall. Enid joined him shortly after, sitting beside him without saying a word.
For a few seconds, the silence was comfortable.
Luke half-closed his eyes, staring at the ceiling, his voice barely a whisper, "It must've been hard for you…"
When he chose Wednesday, shortly after the Blood Moon, and Enid had called him a womanizer, slapped him, and left on the verge of tears, Luke tried to do what he thought was right:
Forget about her, focus on Wednesday, get to know the Addams family better, and prepare for summer and the plans to come.
And if his mind ever wandered back to Enid, he would repeat a truth to himself that felt logical, almost comforting:
It was just a teenage relationship.
The kind that come and go. Unstable. Temporary. Most of them are like that at that age, right?
But he had never taken the Mate thing into account.
When he found out, he convinced himself that Enid would never have chosen him as her Mate. That he couldn't have meant that much to her.
Enid glanced at him sideways, without pretending. She knew exactly what he was talking about.
"Yes," she said. "It was."
Luke lowered his head for a moment. "Now I understand what a Mate means to you. That you marked me… and still don't hate me…"
"I could never hate you," Enid murmured, without looking at him, as if saying it to his face would leave her too vulnerable. "Even though I tried at first."
Luke looked at her.
He couldn't change what had happened. And he didn't regret the decision he made back then.
After the first breakup, forced by Enid's mother, they spent months apart, until the new school year began at Nevermore. Then came that promise: if she defeated the Hyde, Luke would have to tell her the truth.
Enid had figured out that Luke's decision to end things wasn't made of his own free will, but under pressure from someone else… and if that was true, they had to fight to be together again.
But after that promise, they never saw each other again. Technically, they remained broken up.
And in that time, Luke's feelings for Wednesday had blossomed. A new love, not inferior in any way to what he had felt for Enid.
With Enid, the feelings had gone dormant.
With Wednesday, they were new and different.
Darker. More intense. More like him and besides, she was a psychic like him.
They shared the same coldness toward their enemies, the same twisted mindset, and more.
He chose Wednesday. And he didn't regret it.
But that didn't make what he had felt for Enid any less real. Nor did it diminish the bond that still existed between them.
Luke leaned slightly, resting his shoulder against Enid's, "Let me make it up to you, even if just a little," he murmured.
Enid didn't pull away.
On the contrary. She smiled and rested her head on his shoulder.
Then she reached for her pastel pink towel, the one with the little embroidered fox in the corner. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and, without a word, offered it to Luke.
Luke took it. He used the opposite side to wipe off his sweat.
The contrast with Wednesday's style didn't go unnoticed.
If Wednesday ever used a towel, it would probably be black. Plain. At most, decorated with eerie, realistic skulls.
The silence became comfortable. Almost soothing.
After a few minutes, they resumed training.
Wednesday joined in after wrapping up some matters.
The day came to an end, and the next morning, they set out toward the Outcast Council to witness the execution of Anna and Jane Spellman.