Kaiden walked alone under the dimming afternoon sky, the city streets carrying him back toward his hotel. His steps were steady, but his mind wasn't. Sylvie's words clung to him like vines wrapping around his chest, replaying again and again.
You didn't hesitate. You ran straight toward danger.
Her voice echoed, warm but firm, as if she had planted something inside him that refused to quiet down. He had brushed it off in front of her, but walking now with nothing but the hum of traffic and the shuffle of his own footsteps, Kaiden couldn't deny it—it mattered.
And then came the old man's voice, deep and rough like gravel:
Exactly like them. Protectors. Warriors. Those who use the Flows to keep humanity safe.
Two voices—one young, one old—tangled inside him, refusing to let him rest.
By the time he reached the hotel, the sun had sunk low, bleeding orange and red across the sky. He trudged up the narrow staircase, unlocked the faded door to his room, and collapsed backward onto the thin mattress. The ceiling above was stained with watermarks, cracks running across like broken branches.
He lay still, staring, letting thoughts pull him under.
What if this is it? What if that's the last hope I have… to see him? To see my father again?
The thought made his chest tighten. His father—the only family left. Somewhere out there, hidden in the world. The old man had hinted at it, and Sylvie's words lit a spark. Hope.
Kaiden sat up sharply. His reflection in the cracked mirror caught his eye—messy hair, tired face, but in his eyes, something new flickered.
"Yeah," he muttered under his breath. "That's right. I'm almost there. Why would I back up now?"
He clenched his fists.
"If there's even a little hope… even just a thread… I won't give up. That's who I am."
The words steadied him. For the first time in a long while, he wasn't just thinking about surviving another day. He had a direction, even if it was uncertain.
His decision came swift and clear: he would go to that strange university. Somehow, someway, he'd get there—and meet his father.
Kaiden stood, pulling out the worn duffel bag from under the bed. He stuffed in his few belongings—clothes, notebooks, the old keypad phone, a photo tucked carefully between the pages of a book. Each item felt heavier than it should, as if it carried his past with it. But when he zipped the bag shut, he felt lighter.
"This is it," he whispered.
---
An hour later, Kaiden stood outside the weathered wooden door of Lorenzo's house. His knuckles rapped against the frame, and after a pause, the door creaked open.
The old man's face appeared, brows lifting in surprise before breaking into a grin.
"You came back," he said, his voice carrying a warmth Kaiden hadn't expected.
Kaiden nodded, gripping the strap of his bag. "Yeah."
Lorenzo leaned on his cane and chuckled. "I knew it. You've got the look of someone who won't sit still when hope is staring at him. Come in, boy."
Kaiden stepped inside, the scent of wood and herbs filling his nose. The place felt lived-in, comfortable, the walls lined with books and old scrolls.
"You'll be staying here for a while," Lorenzo said, leading him through the small hall. "There's a spare room upstairs. Put your things there. You might be with me a few months before I can get you into the university."
Kaiden's brows furrowed. "Months?"
"Patience," Lorenzo said with a smirk. "You'll need it."
Kaiden climbed the creaky stairs, entered the room, and dropped his bag onto the small bed. He stood there for a moment, letting it sink in. This is it… the first step. The walls were bare, but to him, they felt like the start of something new.
When he came back down, he found Lorenzo in the garden again, tending to a small patch of herbs. The old man looked up and waved him over.
"Since you're here, we should get introductions out of the way." He set the small shovel aside and wiped his hands. "I'm Lorenzo. Been practicing Flows for twenty-five years."
Kaiden blinked. "Twenty-five?"
"Mm-hm. I might look old, but I'm only fifty-one."
Kaiden's eyes widened. "Fifty-one?!"
Lorenzo laughed, the sound deep and rumbling. "What? You thought I was eighty? Maybe a hundred?"
"…Kinda," Kaiden admitted.
"Cheeky brat," Lorenzo said, but he was still chuckling.
He tapped his cane against the ground. "I'm not just any Flow user. I'm one of the Pillars of Gale. Wind."
Kaiden tilted his head. "Pillars?"
Lorenzo's eyes gleamed. Without warning, he raised his cane into the air and swiped it to the right.
A violent gust exploded outward, tearing through the garden. The hedges shuddered, leaves scattering into the air like a storm. Then Lorenzo swiped left—another blast, strong enough to rattle the wooden fence.
Kaiden stumbled back, eyes wide. "What the—?!"
"Wind," Lorenzo said calmly, resting the cane again.
Kaiden's jaw dropped. "That's… that's like magic!"
"Not magic," Lorenzo corrected, wagging a finger. "Flow. Big difference."
Kaiden's mind flashed back to Yuki hurling lightning and Leonardo wielding fire. He shouldn't be surprised, but watching Lorenzo bend the air itself right in front of him—it still sent a chill down his spine.
Lorenzo smiled at his stunned expression. "Flow is not conjured from nothing. It comes from the earth itself. From the elements. You don't create—it's already there. You embody it. Guide it. Control it."
Kaiden's gaze locked on the old man's cane. "So it's like… breathing it into your weapon? Making it an extension of yourself?"
"Exactly." Lorenzo nodded, pleased. "We don't just swing blades or throw punches. We channel. The Flow becomes part of the strike. A sword with fire burns deeper. A strike with wind cuts sharper. A shield with stone stands unbreakable. That's the essence of Flow."
Kaiden listened, absorbing every word.
Lorenzo's voice grew heavier, carrying the weight of history. "This power has been with mankind for over a millennium. A gift from the gods themselves, given when the first portals opened and monsters poured into the world. With Flow, humanity fought back and sealed the portals shut. But men are greedy. It wasn't long before Flow was turned on each other, fueling wars. The gods grew angry. To end it, they erased the Flow users, leaving only stories and myths."
He paused, eyes distant. "Centuries passed. People forgot. Until the 1800s, when remnants were discovered again. But without guidance, it faded. Then… 1991. The portals returned. And with them, Flow was reborn."
Kaiden exhaled slowly, the weight of it settling on him. "So… this is what I have to learn. If I want to survive. If I want to see my father again."
Lorenzo turned toward him, the wind rustling his silver hair. "That's right. And if you're staying here, we start today. No sense in waiting."
Kaiden's pulse quickened. His first real step toward power, toward answers, was right here.
Lorenzo tapped his cane against the ground, a faint swirl of wind curling around his feet. His eyes met Kaiden's, sharp and expectant.
"Are you ready to learn the Flow, boy?"
Kaiden's fists clenched, his resolve burning bright.
"…Yeah. I'm ready."