Ardyn stayed in the mechanic shop the entire day, tending to Maren.
He swept the floor, wiped down the tables, and dusted the corners. Tools were put back in their proper places, and shelves that had been messy for weeks were finally cleaned up. He washed the windows, let in some fresh air, and threw out old scraps and parts that had been lying around for too long.
He did the laundry and hung the clothes to dry. He cooked a simple stew, light and easy on the stomach, and made sure Maren drank enough water. When the old man's fever rose again around midday, Ardyn fetched a new cloth, soaked it in cool water, and sat quietly beside him until the heat eased.
In the afternoon, Ardyn took the glider and returned briefly to the Skyrink. He went straight to the Cirran medics' quarters, gave a quick explanation of Maren's symptoms, and was handed a small satchel of herbs and powdered mixtures, along with instructions on how to use them.
By sundown, Ardyn was back at the shop. He gave Maren the medicine and helped him sit upright to eat a little more.
Maren offered a faint smile, eyes tired but grateful.
"You're turning into a proper caretaker."
Ardyn chuckled. "Don't get used to it."
He stayed beside him until the old man drifted off again. Then he stepped out to the back of the workshop, to a quiet spot at the edge of the isle. A place he always went at night.
The sun was already sinking into the sea of clouds, and the cluster of Windmere isles had begun to glow—small lights flickering to life like lanterns scattered across the sky.
Ardyn sat on the old familiar wooden chair, elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed on the flickering lights of Windmere in the distance. He lowered his head slightly. Then, without thinking too hard, he spoke.
"I used to come out here with a thousand things to ask for. Some stupid. Some not."
A pause.
"Tonight... I don't even know what to say."
"He's all I've got. So if you're listening—or even if you're not—just let him get better."
He exhaled.
"That's all."
The wind shifted, brushing against his face. Maybe it meant nothing.
Maybe it meant everything.
* * *
Ardyn woke to the sharp hiss of metal and a quick burst of sparks. He sat up fast and rushed out of the room.
In the workshop, Maren stood at the workbench, a small flame tool in his hand, sparks flicking as he worked. He was repairing an old gearbox casing, carefully sealing a crack along its edge. His goggles were pushed up, and though he looked a little tired, his hands were steady.
"Hey, Pops," Ardyn said as he walked over, placing a hand on Maren's forehead. "You're supposed to be resting."
"I'm already well," Maren replied.
Ardyn frowned, keeping his hand there for a second longer. "You are..."
He pulled his hand back. "But no, you shouldn't be working yet."
"I spent a whole day in bed. That's more rest than I've had in years."
Ardyn chuckled. "That way of speaking… yeah, you're really back to normal."
"But I'm really glad you're okay," Ardyn said. "I need to head back to the Skyrink."
Maren didn't look up, just waved a hand, a rough gesture that told Ardyn to get going.
"I'll ask Captain Seris to send a medic here daily to check on you," Ardyn added. "Please don't refuse, alright?"
Maren didn't respond, just kept working.
"I'll visit whenever I can."
Ardyn was already at the door when Maren spoke. "Ardyn."
Ardyn turned.
"Take care," Maren said, his expression unreadable. But Ardyn heard the weight in those words.
He smiled and nodded. "See you, Pops."
Then he stepped outside.
* * *
The Windmere Proper Plaza sat wide and open at the heart of the isle, Its stone floor was light-colored and worn smooth over the years by wind and footsteps. Arched lantern poles lined the edges, gently swaying in the breeze, and above, streamers fluttered in Windmere's blue.
A crowd had gathered, villagers filling the plaza's steps and railings. Some stood on crates, others sat on the walls, leaning in for a better view. Parents held children on their shoulders. Even shopkeepers had paused their day to watch.
At the center, just before the low stage, the Windmere Cirran team sat in uniform, though Ardyn's seat remained empty.
"Why isn't Ardyn here yet?" Ava asked, seated between Pimri and Kael.
Kael gave a short breath. "Maybe he's too important now to show up on time."
Ava turned to him. "He didn't win that match for himself, Kael."
Kael's jaw tightened. "Didn't say he did."
"But you act like he stole something from you."
He looked away, fingers curling into fists on his knees. "I had it."
"No, you didn't," Ava said, voice low. "You were unconscious. I dragged you back."
The words hung sharp between them.
Kael didn't reply. His eyes stayed forward, the muscle in his cheek twitching. Ava watched him for a moment longer, but said nothing more.
Ardyn finally arrived, stepping onto the plaza with quiet urgency. He moved past the rows of onlookers and made his way to the front, slipping into the empty chair prepared for him, the first seat beside Kael.
"Sorry I was late," he said, glancing over.
Kael didn't look at him. "You think just because you won us the semis, you get to show up whenever you want?"
Ardyn paused, caught off guard by the bite in his tone.
"I stopped by to see my grandfather," he said. "He's sick."
"Didn't ask for your life story." Kael muttered.
Ava leaned forward, frustration edging her voice. "Can you please stop now, Kael?"
Without another word, Kael stood and walked off, footsteps sharp against the stone.
Ardyn blinked. "What was that about?"
Ava let out a breath. "Don't mind him."
The program began, names called one by one in order of their rankings.
Ardyn was first. As his name echoed across the plaza, cheers erupted. He rose from his seat and stepped onto the stage, where Windmere's council members greeted him and handed over a small token of honor.
Next was Kael. A brief silence followed his name, but he stood—coming from a different seat—and walked up to receive his award without a word.
Then came Ava, Pimri, Sedge, and Doma, each met with scattered applause as they stepped forward in turn.
Ardyn stood beside Kael on the stage. The ceremony was meant to feel light—celebratory—but something in the air felt off. The cheers blurred. The smiles didn't reach all the way. And between them, the silence hung heavier than any applause.
* * *
The next day was training day.
Ardyn woke early, determined to reach the Skyrink ahead of the others. After showing up late to the team's honoring, he wanted to make up for it, even if no one had said anything outright.
But when he entered the arena, someone was already there.
Kael drifted through the hollow, alone—his boots flaring faintly as he threw sharp punches and low kicks, striking at the air with focused rhythm.
Ardyn paused, then quietly made his way to one of the benches. He slipped on his Galegears, adjusted the seals, and leapt into the hollow. Wind caught under his boots, lifting him into a steady hover.
He hovered there for a moment, watching Kael train. He wasn't sure if Kael had noticed him—or if he was being ignored on purpose.
"Hey, Kael," he called. "You're early."
Kael didn't respond.
Ardyn paused, letting the silence hang for a moment. Then he slowly drifted closer.
"About yesterday…" he said. "I'm sorry I came late. I was visiting my grandfather—I didn't know he was sick. I stayed to take care of him."
"Told you," Kael snapped, still not looking at him. "I'm not interested."
Ardyn hesitated. "Did I do something wrong?"
Kael stopped mid-motion. He turned and faced Ardyn directly.
"If you think you won us the semis, you didn't," he said flatly. "You don't even understand what that wind surge was. You got lucky."
Ardyn nodded once. "Yeah… you're right."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Since you're here early—good. Let's start training."
He cracked his knuckles and drifted a short distance, settling into a fighting stance.
"One-on-one. Let's see if you really are the number one player now."
"Shouldn't we wait for the captain?" Ardyn asked hesitantly.
But Kael didn't answer.
He lunged forward, fists already flying.
Ardyn's instincts kicked in—he twisted, dodged, parried. The rhythm was familiar. Just months ago, Kael had trained him right here in the same arena. But this time, something had shifted.
Now, Ardyn could keep up.
His movements matched Kael's in speed, his arms strong enough to deflect each strike. But there was something else—something different. Kael's hits carried weight. Grit. Not just strength, but frustration.
This wasn't training.
Then one punch slipped through. It crashed straight into Ardyn's chest, knocking him back in the air.
He caught himself, chest stinging, and gave a half-smile. "Your point."
But Kael didn't stop.
His foot came next—fast, sharp—a kick toward Ardyn's side. Ardyn barely raised an arm in time to block it. The impact rattled up through his bones.
Yeah. This wasn't a drill.
"Kael, stop," Ardyn said, eyes locking onto his.
But Kael didn't even flinch. Another strike came. Then another. Ardyn kept blocking, arms straining.
And then—he moved without thinking, the reaction immediate.
A counterpunch. Clean. Quick.
It landed flush on Kael's chest.
Kael staggered back, stunned midair.
For a heartbeat, both of them hovered in silence.
Ardyn saw it in Kael's eyes, that flicker of surprise. The realization.
Ardyn wasn't the novice he used to be.
Kael's brows furrowed, and he dashed forward again. This time, Ardyn didn't just dodge—he struck back. The sound of fists and wind cracked through the Arena as they clashed midair, moving faster with each exchange.
They hadn't noticed Doma was already there. The Windguard had been watching from the edge of the Arena for some time, arms folded, eyes sharp. He'd seen enough to know this wasn't a drill.
Then—just as one of Kael's punches was about to land square on Ardyn's jaw, Doma shot forward, catching it mid-swing.
"Stop this, the two of you," Doma said firmly, stepping between them.
Kael didn't reply. He hovered back a few paces, eyes still locked on them, tense and burning. Then he raised his gauntlet.
"Get out of there, Doma!" Kael warned.
Doma didn't move. He stood in front of Ardyn, arms raised.
Kael launched a gust of wind from his Galegear. Doma absorbed it with his own gauntlet, bracing against the blast. Sparks flared between them.
Seeing that Doma's defense held, Kael surged forward again. This time aiming for both of them. The wind cracked louder, punches coming in from sharp angles.
Ardyn and Doma moved in tandem, defending and pushing back. Two against one.
Until a sudden fist came out of nowhere and slammed into Doma's face.
He staggered.
"What—?" Ardyn turned, only to see Sedge landing beside Kael, gauntlets flaring.
Sedge didn't say anything, but the way he stood said enough. He wasn't joining to stop the fight. He thought Doma and Ardyn were ganging up on Kael.
In a flash, the fight became four-sided chaos.
Blows landed on all of them. No more training forms. This was personal.
Then a sharp whistle pierced the air.
"Stop this, the four of you!"
They all froze, hovering in place.
Standing at the benches, arms crossed and fury in his eyes, was Captain Seris. Behind him stood Ava, Pimri, Roe, and Mirae—each wearing a stunned expression.
The captain stepped down from the high benches, boots echoing against the stone as he approached the railing.
"What happened here?" he asked, his voice sharp and clear.
None of the four Cirrans spoke. The silence said enough.
Captain Seris swept his gaze across them—bruised, winded, divided.
"The finals are approaching," he said, his tone flat. "And I'm witnessing a fight?"
He shook his head, turning away.
The wind shifted above, as if mirroring the rift below.
And with the finals drawing near, Windmere's team had never felt further from ready.