The next morning, the sterile, white walls were replaced by a familiar, if equally guarded, environment—a shared apartment within the facility's secure zone. The crushing tension, however, had migrated right along with them.
King stood over the television, a monument of simmering impatience, watching the perpetually relaxed figure lounging on the couch.
"So this world's only hope," King sneered, a gauntleted finger stabbing toward the screen flickering with a mundane morning talk show, "spends all his day watching that tripe and consuming processed sugar."
Zen, completely thrown across the expansive leather couch, didn't even bother to sit up. He simply glanced at King with a bored expression, one hand reaching for a nearby bowl of cheese dust-covered chips. "How else do you expect me to spend my day? Training is for people who might lose."
King advanced, his voice low and laced with frustrated urgency. "You don't grasp the gravity of this, do you? If you're not seen as strong enough, your home will be destroyed! Don't you understand that?" he demanded, trying to hammer the situation into the indifferent Riftborn.
Zen looked up at him, a lazy, amused smile spreading across his face. He plucked a chip from the bowl and crunched it deliberately, the sound loud in the quiet room. "Why worry? If you're one of their elites and you're this weak," Zen drawled, dismissing King with a wave of his hand, "I don't even have to break a sweat to fight your King. You need to join Rose. I think you're the one who needs the training session."
King's face tightened. He stared at Zen for a long, silent moment, the sheer, effortless arrogance of the other man—a profound insult to his life's dedication—grating on his nerves. Without another word, he turned sharply and strode toward the heavy, reinforced door of the adjacent training room, needing to see exactly what kind of training the human girl was truly capable of.
As he yanked the door open, a wave of hot, pulverized air, thick with the smell of scorched metal and drywall, hit him. The training room, which had been perfectly repaired overnight, was an absolute wreck. A deep, radiating fissure split the floor from one end to the other, the metal walls were buckled inward and visibly smoking, and a heavy punching bag lay shredded in the corner.
And in the center of the devastation, Rose. She sat cross-legged on the ruined floor, her chest heaving slightly, a sheen of sweat on her brow. The simple sight of a single, slim girl responsible for such raw destruction was a genuine, visceral shock. King's jaw went slack.
He slowly backed out, pulling the door shut with a quiet, reverberating click.
Looks like this world has also got monsters, he thought to himself, a slow, grudging respect—and a measure of fear—replacing his annoyance.
Zen, still horizontal on the couch, noticed the immediate change in King's demeanor as he returned, his expression now thoughtful, almost subdued, rather than furious.
"Well? Did you get your training session in?" Zen asked, a playful lilt to his voice. "Or did the Rose prove too intoxicating?"
King's face was set, his expression now thoughtful, though the lingering sting of Zen's insult was obvious. He simply nodded, accepting the new reality with a grunt. Just then Rose stepped into the room.
Her eyes, sharp and clear, swept over the two figures. "Zen, get ready. We're going out."
King, his wings still subtly tucked, actually looked excited. He pushed away from the wall. "Finally," he muttered, his voice edged with relief. "I can finally do something."
Zen, however, remained sprawled out. "But I don't think we have a mission today, do we?" he asked, attempting to sound bored but failing to mask the flicker of suspicion in his eyes.
Rose leaned against the doorframe, a faint, determined smile touching her lips. "It's not a mission, but there is someone I want to see," she explained. Her gaze locked onto King, then back to Zen. "And I can't exactly leave you two monsters alone, now can I? Get ready. We leave in five."
Zen threw his hands up in defeat, dropping the chip bowl with a clatter. He looked pleadingly at King. "Come on, man, help me out."
But King was already at the door, his face a picture of pure, simple happiness.
Zen watched him go, then muttered under his breath, "And now he acts like a kid."
Three hours later, the urban facility felt like another life.
The hum of the forest was thick and alive as Rose, Zen, and King stood in the middle of a sun-dappled clearing. The air smelled of damp earth and pine needles.
King, who had now hidden his wings by shaving the feathered edges back beneath his skin, surveyed the towering canopy. "I didn't think I would be saying this, but... what exactly are we doing here?"
Rose's smile widened, a genuinely menacing expression that sent a shiver down King's spine. "I'm done punching bags." She stepped forward, her body tense, radiating an intensity King had only just begun to respect. "One of you is going to fight me. I want to see how strong I really am now."
Zen quickly leaned in close to King, his voice a low, excited hiss. "I heard you say you were bored, right? Then let's see how you do against the Rose."
King fixed his gaze on Rose, a new, cautious energy replacing his earlier annoyance. "I thought I couldn't hurt humans."
"Not unless I say you can," Rose confirmed, her stance widening slightly. "Consider this my permission. You need to fight me like I'm the real threat."
A sharp, almost predatory smile stretched across King's face. He started walking away from Rose, clearing space for their duel. "Don't blame me if I accidentally kill you, girl."
Rose met his challenge with an unnerving confidence. "Don't worry."
Zen quickly backed up to the edge of the clearing, shouting to both of them. "Alright, weakling! King, no Rift powers! And everything else goes! So... ready or not! FIGHT!"
As Zen finished speaking, King's polite retreat vanished. He spun around, a blur of motion, running straight at Rose, his fists already clenched. "Ready or not, girl, here I come!"