The next three weeks peeled off the calendar like tape.
By day, the arena felt like a polite forge; by night, the Petal Hall glowed like a quiet shrine that had learned to put up with footsteps. Kori's clipboard multiplied checkmarks. Kenzo's hammer found new ways to hum. Between them, the eight learned to do the same thing over and over until "impossible" got bored and found another word.
Progress looked ridiculous until it didn't.
Esen invented levitation.
I mean no, not really. Twenty glorious centimeters above the floor. He'd lift with the concentration of a locksmith, face flushed from effort - and stay there, a hovering doorstop of destiny. But he discovered that he could just explode his way up with his shockwaves, without hurting himself. It was tricky, but he managed to do it somehow. Don't ask me. Esen bent more laws of physics than my fingers.
Arashi would drop to a squat beside him, deadpan. "You're majestic. I can barely see you from up here."
