Grace sat by the small lamp in her room, the worn book simply resting on her knees. The pages were marked with odd symbols, equations that looked like puzzles carved by madmen, and diagrams that stretched beyond the borders of her understanding. Yet, she devoured it. Her fingers trailed over the lines as if the paper itself carried answers.
A knock broke her focus. She glanced at the door, blinked, and set the book down.
"Come in," she said softly.
The door creaked open. Tom stood there, hair messy, shirt still showing the rough tears from battle. He looked tired, but his eyes were alive, sharp even in the dim glow.
"Hey," he said, stepping in and dropping into the chair near her bed. "Didn't think you'd be awake. I thought you are sleeping."
Grace smiled faintly. "Didn't think you'd knock."
He smirked, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, but I saw light coming under the door, so I just knocked to check...."
She lifted the book and tapped the cover. "Thanks for this. I really liked it very much. I didn't know how much I wanted something like this until I opened it. It's… cool and interesting."
Tom leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "So, what have you learned so far?"
Grace's eyes lit up. She flipped a few pages, stopping at a diagram. "Quantum superposition. The idea that particles don't just exist in one state but in multiple states until observed. It's like…. reality doesn't decide until someone looks. The universe hides its answers in probability."
Tom blinked, genuinely impressed. "You've only had that book for minutes.."
"I read fast," she said with a shrug, though her cheeks warmed with quiet pride.
Tom whistled low. "You're dangerous. If you keep going at this pace, you'll end up smarter than me."
Grace tilted her head, a teasing smile forming. "What exactly are you smart in?"
Tom leaned back, thoughtful. His gaze drifted toward the small window where the ruined sky glimmered faintly scarlet. "Astronomy."
Grace blinked. "Astronomy? You've studied it?"
He shook his head slowly. "That's the thing. I haven't. Never held a book, never had a teacher. Sometimes.… I just know. The names of constellations. The way orbits pull each other. The distance between two stars, like I've walked the path myself. It's there in my head, like someone whispered it to me long ago and I forgot until I need it."
The room grew still, as if the weight of his words pressed against the air. Grace's smile faded into something gentler, more curious.
"That's…." she hesitated, searching for the word, ".…mysterious. Seems like a long detached part of you finally turning one."
Tom didn't answer right away. He tapped the edge of the chair, eyes distant. "Sometimes I wonder if the stars are trying to remind me of something, or if I'm just a shadow of someone who knew them before."
Grace closed the book quietly and reached for his arm. Her fingers brushed against the place where a bruise had once been. She pulled his sleeve up slightly. The skin, though scarred faintly, was almost healed.
"See? You recover very fast," she said, half as a reassurance, half as a test of normalcy.
Tom chuckled. "Guess I'm tougher than I look."
Grace narrowed her eyes, mock serious. "You look plenty tough, don't get macho this early."
They both laughed, the sound breaking the heaviness. The moment, it felt like two siblings trading jokes by candlelight instead of survivors holding secrets of gods and monsters.
But then Grace leaned closer, lowering her voice. "You ever think…. all this knowledge we carry, it's not ours? Like we're just.… thoughts. Borrowing thoughts from somewhere else?"
Tom studied her, his usual sharpness fading into a rare softness. "Yeah. I've thought about it and it scares me. What if nothing we do is truly ours? We're just playing roles someone else wrote."
Grace's gaze dropped to the book, her fingers pressing against the worn cover. "Then maybe…. we should write our own pages while we can."
Tom's eyes lingered on her. He wanted to argue, to counter with one of his half-jokes or darker doubts, but he didn't. Instead, he nodded.
For a while, they sat in silence, just breathing the same air. The lamp flickered, shadows bending like quiet waves. Grace leaned back against the wall, cradling the book again, while Tom slouched in the chair.
Grace broke the silence. "Hey.… if you're the stars, then I'll be the one who reads them."
Tom blinked, caught off guard. "….That was cheesy."
She smirked. "Yeah, but admit it, it was good."
He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Alright. It was good."
The night pressed on, both of them locked in that strange space between comfort and mystery. A quiet pact lingered in the air to protect, to learn, to carry each other through the weight of a world too big for either of them alone.
Clouds dragged across the sky, pale yellowish broken pieces of the broken moon glowing faintly through them. Tom stepped out, his shoulders still sore, his mind louder than the silence. He rubbed his temples, half thinking about Ghira's memories, half wishing the world would just give them a pause.
The man stood near the firepit, back straight, his pale hair pulled by the wind, eyes reflecting the sparks of dying flames. He looked like someone who belonged here and yet stood apart from it all.
"You look restless," Elior said without turning.
Tom smirked faintly. "That's rich coming from you. Do you even sleep?"
Elior finally turned, that calm smile on his face. "Sleep comes when the mind is light. Yours is heavy, isn't it?"
Tom frowned, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "You sound like a priest. Don't tell me you came out here to preach."
Elior chuckled, shaking his head. "Not to preach. To test you."
Tom raised a brow. "Test me?"
"You want to save people, don't you?" Elior's voice was steady, like stone that had seen centuries of storms. "You want to fight things far beyond your level. Do you know your own Face? Truly?"
Tom's smirk faded. He knew Elior wasn't mocking. He was kinda challenging him. "I'm learning."
"Not enough." Elior's eyes sharpened, a rare seriousness cutting through his calm mask. "If you don't understand your Face, if you don't understand yourself, you'll end up as another corpse in the sand."
The air thickened. Tom clenched his jaw. "So what do you want, a spar? You want me to prove something?"
Elior finally smiled again, tilting his head toward the open sands. "Exactly. Come, let's see what you're made of."
They walked a little distance from the bunker, far enough that the campfire was a dim glow behind them. The sand crunched underfoot, dry and glassy. Vera was already there, leaning on his trident, watching the stars with his usual quiet.
"Vera," Elior called. "You will join."
The serious man looked between them, then gave a single nod. "Alright, practice?"
Tom stretched his neck, rolling his shoulders. "Fine by me."
The fight began light, Vera moving first. His trident danced, water droplets forming in the air around him, glowing faintly in the moonlight. They shot forward like darts, sharp and calculated.
Tom ducked, weaving between them, his fists wrapped in the rotating invisible blades of his Face. He countered with a sweeping burdt, but Vera's water tanked it neatly, hissing steam rising between them.
"You're too direct," Vera said flatly, stepping aside. "Your moves are predictable."
Tom gritted his teeth. "Then stop dodging and hit me!"
Before, Vera could answer, Elior moved in. His Face flickered into presence—a strange, radiant smile hanging behind him, serene and terrifying all at once. A large demonic branch came out from Elior's shoulder piercing flesh.
Smile, The Dawn of Happiness. The sight of it bent the air itself, space twitching with faint rifts that snapped like invisible blades. Sand lifted and twisted, shifting into shapes as Elior stepped forward.
Tom was surprised, how Idoes he still have his Face? Didn't he said after a Facebearer dies he loses his Face?
Elior noticed too. His calmness broke for a moment, replaced by shock. "You.… can see it?"
Tom blinked. "See what? That…. thing behind you?"
Elior's smile faded into a frown. "Didn't expect this earlier. I used Psychic Nullification. No one can see my Face or feels my presence at this point. Looks like you have enhanced your visions."
Tom tilted his head, unsure if it was a compliment or a threat. "Well, I see it. Clear as day."
Elior stepped closer, his aura sharpening. "That changes things. By the way, All Faces has some similar traits. Like all Faces are able to see Invincible spiritual structures. Facebearers can see psychic flow or aura, whatever and navigate any physical being's mental conditions or weaknesses. The higher rank, the better. "
The spar grew harsher. Elior moved with precision, each step weaving sand into spears, each flicker of his Face pulling space like threads on a loom. Tom gaslights the rotating blades, flames bursting from his fists, rotating around him, but Elior's pressure was overwhelming more as ever.
"You fight with instinct but that's not enough in this world!" Elior said mid-strike, his sand blade missing Tom by an inch. "Instinct without understanding is chaos. Control your Face. Don't let it control you."
Tom growled, fire surging around his knuckles. "Easy for you to say!" He swung, the flame cracking like a whip.
Elior parried it with a hand, bending space so the fire folded in on itself. "Do you even know what your Face is telling you? Do you listen?"
Tom's breath came hard. "All I hear is noise."
"Then quiet it," Elior said sharply.
For a moment, only the clash of sand and flame filled the air. Then, after pushing Tom back with a wave of force, Elior lowered his hands. His eyes softened.
"You deserve to know the lore of mine," Elior said quietly. "Maybe it will help you understand yours."
Tom straightened, scratching his forehead. Vera leaned his trident into the sand, watching silently.
Elior's voice dropped into a calm rhythm, like someone telling a story carried by generations.
"My Face.... Smile, the Dawn of Happiness was born from the soul of a saint. He lived in the mountain forests, far from empires and crowns. He had no enemies, only friends, because he forgave all who wronged him. His kindness was so deep that even those who stole from him, even those who betrayed him, found peace in his smile."
Tom listened, shoulders easing, though his heart felt tight.
"One day," Elior continued, "his enemies came. They killed his children, his wife, his whole family, burned alive. They thought to murder him when he tried to bring righteous law in the chaos. His companions were very less in numbers. He had to leave his motherland behind for their mischievous planning. After years, he came back with a large number of armies, basically his companions throughout the years. Even as his house smoldered and their screams still resounded, he forgave them. When his enemies saw this.… they wept. They dropped their blades. They became better men, ashamed of their cruelty."
Silence stretched, broken only by the whisper of sand under the wind.
Tom swallowed. "That's…. Uh.... Uh.... "
Elior nodded. "The saint's smile was not joy. It was sorrow transformed into mercy. His face became a dawn that lit even the darkest souls. That is why my Face is called what it is."
Tom stared at him, flames flickering faintly at his fists, uncertain if it was reverence or unease stirring in him. "You carry that? All that weight, right? If I am not wrong after a someone inherits a Face, they had to carry the weights of the Original Figures."
"I carry the memories," Elior said softly. "but it is not mine. It is borrowed for strength. That's what a Face truly is, an inheritance of meaning. You must find what yours is trying to show you."
Tom sat down in the sand, breathing deeply, the moonlight stretching their shadows.
Elior smiled faintly, looking back at Tom. "Learn to listen. That's all I ask."
Elior then lifted a finger, as though remembering. "One more thing. Psychic Nullification. The technique I used, It hides your presence, cloaks your aura, silences your existence until even the most sensitive minds pass over you. If you master it, you can walk through an army without a single head turning. It can also erase traces, make your Face invisible even in the heat of battle."
Tom looked up, eyes burning faintly. "Then I saw yours?"
Elior gave him a long, unreadable look. "That.… might mean your path is stranger than you think. It could be a trait of your Face."
The sand settled around them, the air cooling, the spar finished. But the tension lingered, heavy and promising.