Fira finds Elias after his failed training session — battered, exhausted, and angrier than he'll admit. She recognizes the signs: not ambition, but desperation. She's seen it before. In psykers. In zealots. In men who thought they could win against a universe built to break them. She tries to talk him down. Not with orders. With truth.
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Elias stood under the rust-stained spout of a water pipe near the barracks' edge, shirtless, soaking wet, shoulders rising and falling like pistons.
The water was freezing.
His breath curled in the stale air like smoke.
Fira stood behind him, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
"You look like you lost a fight with a ventilation shaft."
Elias didn't turn around. "Didn't lose."
"You sure didn't win."
She walked closer, boots crunching over broken glass and bits of rusted metal.
"You've been down in the pipe tunnels."
"I was alone."
"That's the problem."
She stopped beside him, not close enough to touch. Just close enough to speak plainly.
"I've seen that look before. In the mirror. In others. Gangers. Psykers. Imperial preachers who thought they were chosen."
Elias finally looked at her. His face was wet, but his eyes were dry.
She continued:
"You push and push, and nothing answers. So you think the problem's you. You think if you just hurt yourself a little more, bleed a little longer, maybe the gods — or whatever — will finally notice you."
A pause.
"You're not wrong."
Elias clenched his jaw.
"So I stop trying?"
"No." Her tone sharpened. "You stop pretending this universe works on effort."
She stepped in front of him now, meeting his eyes.
"You think training makes you stronger? That systems like that care how hard you work? Wake up."
Her voice dropped to a bitter whisper.
"This world doesn't let you grow. It lets you rot louder."
Elias didn't speak.
Not for a long moment.
Then, quietly:
"Something's wrong?."
He nodded.
"It only gives me anything when I'm…"
He searched for the word.
"...dying."
Fira's gaze didn't change.
"Then don't die."
"That's the point. I have to get close."
She shook her head.
"That's not power. That's bait."
They stood in silence.
The pipe above them dripped once.
Elias spoke again, slower now.
"I don't think it wants me to be strong. I think it wants me to be... desperate."
Fira looked away.
"Sounds like the Emperor."
Elias raised an eyebrow.
She shrugged.
"He doesn't give you peace. Or protection. He gives you a choice: burn for me… or break without me."
They stood together in the quiet for a while. No orders. No decisions. Just the hum of distant machinery and the churn of something neither of them could define.
Finally, Fira sighed.
"I'm not going to tell you not to do it."
"Train?"
"Bleed."
He looked at her.
She met his gaze.
"But if you're going to burn yourself to learn something... make sure it's worth it."
She walked away.
Elias watched her go, then looked down at his bruised hands.
No notifications.
No progress.
No sympathy.
Just pain.
And possibility.
[END OF PART 2]