The sun shone high over Orb Valley.
For the first time since their arrival in the forest, the day felt… stable.
Inside the main clearing, the clan led by Tocre and Angelo stood gathered in formation. They were no longer improvised survivors — they were fighters in training, alert, disciplined.
Tocre positioned himself at the front of the group.
Firm posture. Serious gaze. Controlled voice.
"Pay attention," he said. "Today we're not going to talk only about power. We're going to talk about control."
The murmurs faded.
"Each of you has a specialty. Some are common. Others are rare. Some are… dangerous even to the user." He paused briefly. "But understand this — no specialty replaces movement, technique, and combat awareness."
Tocre stepped forward, distancing himself from the group.
"Relying only on your gift is how you die early in this forest. You need to know how to fight. You need to know how to move. You need to understand distance, timing, and impact."
He assumed a combat stance.
"When the enemy is far, use your legs. They're longer, they keep distance, and they reduce risk."
Tocre executed a fast, precise kick through the air.
"When the fight closes in, the fists come in — but never alone."
His movements flowed like refined martial arts. There was no rush. No showmanship.
"Combining physical strikes with your specialty," he continued, "creates constant pressure. But be careful. Too much force breaks rhythm. Too little solves nothing."
Tocre slowly turned his body toward a thick tree several meters away.
"Watch closely."
He took a deep breath.
Closed his fist.
The punch never touched the tree.
And yet—
The air trembled.
An invisible, dense, almost tangible wave distorted the space between Tocre and the target. The ground vibrated beneath the youths' feet. The impact came a second later.
The tree was pierced through.
The trunk didn't simply break — it gave way, as if struck by a force that ignored matter itself. Wood exploded into splinters. The trunk was ripped from its base and hurled backward, spinning through the air before crashing heavily into the ground.
Silence.
Leaves still drifted down slowly when everyone realized they were… staring with mouths open.
Tocre remained still.
He looked at his own fist.
"…What?" he murmured.
He walked toward the impact site, examining the destroyed trunk. There were no burn marks. No cuts. Just… raw, deep, violent rupture.
"That wasn't electromagnetism," he said quietly.
Uneasy glances spread through the group.
"Whoa…" someone whispered.
Tocre exhaled deeply and turned back.
"Don't get distracted by this," he said firmly. "The focus stays the same: master what you already have. This forest still hides dangers we don't understand. Discipline and caution are what keep us alive."
Angelo stepped closer, arms crossed, a restrained smile on his face.
"You're being a good leader, Tocre," he said, glancing around. "And these people… this is exactly what they need."
The brothers Bol and Korvel exchanged looks.
"You never stop surprising us," Bol said.
Korvel frowned thoughtfully.
"Wait," he said, staring at Tocre. "Is it possible for someone to master more than one specialty?"
Tocre hesitated for a moment.
"It is," he answered. "But it's extremely rare."
Korvel smiled faintly.
"Then you're rare, my friend. What you just did… wasn't what you used to control."
Tocre clenched his fist again.
"Whatever it was, I'm not trusting it yet," he said, lifting his gaze. "I'll use what I already master. And you should do the same."
High above Orb Valley, in the mountains, the fortress remained intact, luxurious, and silent.
Hellion walked calmly through the hall when he spoke.
"Asher, since you train so much… how about a walk through the forest?"
Asher didn't even look up.
"Why? I've got a treadmill here. And air conditioning."
Hellion sighed, still smiling.
"Fresh air can't be simulated."
"I'm not going," Asher replied flatly.
"Very well," Hellion said lightly. "Then listen carefully: this is not a request. It's an order."
Asher shrugged.
"As you wish."
Hellion watched him for a few seconds. The smile remained.
But behind it… there was fatigue.
It wasn't a fake smile.
It was the smile of someone who preferred smiling to falling apart.
On the other side of the forest, far from organized clearings and disciplined training, the dynamic was different.
There, the Mist Clan was rising.
The former leader had been defeated.
And thoroughly humiliated.
Now, at the center of that diffuse domain, stood Miles.
The defeat he had suffered at the hands of Tocre and Angelo still burned like poison in his mind. For Miles, it hadn't been just a lost confrontation. It was a public affront — a direct blow to his ego.
He didn't just want to grow stronger.
He wanted revenge.
But his numbers were still insufficient.
Even after days of aggressive expansion, the Mist Clan barely exceeded thirty members. It wasn't enough to face the Wind Clan directly — organized, disciplined, and increasingly respected within Orb Valley.
So Miles did what he knew best.
Manipulate.
He expanded territory, sought out isolated youths, small groups, the undecided. He promised protection, food, shelter. He spoke with conviction. He spoke like someone who already saw himself at the top.
And that was how he found something… unexpected.
A group composed entirely of girls.
About twenty of them.
Miles approached with his usual smile — confident, almost theatrical.
"Well, well…" he said, sweeping the group with his gaze. "An all-girls clan? That's new."
That was when his eyes stopped on her.
Purple hair.
Relaxed posture.
An indifferent expression, almost bored.
She didn't look impressed.
Nor curious.
Nor afraid.
Miles stepped closer.
"Hi," he said, stretching the word slightly. "I'm Miles. Leader of the Mist Clan. We specialize in hideouts, defense, and territorial control. Even in this forest."
Before he could continue, the girl interrupted him.
"You want to recruit us."
Miles blinked once, then smiled.
"Bingo. Exactly."
She crossed her arms.
"No. We're a group of women. And we're staying that way."
Miles kept smiling, but his eyes sharpened.
"An all-women group?" he replied. "And that's not… exclusion? Imagine if we formed an all-men group and barred you from joining. Doesn't sound fair, does it? Strength comes from unity."
He stepped closer.
"But let me ask you something. If I put fifteen of my best fighters against fifteen of yours… who do you think would win?"
The girl thought for a second.
"I can't answer with certainty," she said. "The odds would be in your favor. Most of us aren't focused on direct combat."
She lifted her gaze, firm.
"But if we join your clan… what do we gain?"
Miles opened his arms.
"What everyone gains. Protection. Shelter. Food. A name. A family. Safety. Small groups have been attacked. With us, that doesn't happen."
She tilted her head slightly.
"Alright. We'll join," she said. "On one condition."
Miles' smile froze for a moment.
"Which is?"
"I'll be a leader too."
Silence.
"What?" Miles laughed in disbelief. "You're joking."
"No," she replied. "I want a position equal to yours."
Miles inhaled deeply.
"That's not how this works," he said. "But we can negotiate. You join, I stay leader, and you become my right hand."
She stepped forward.
"No," she said calmly. "I want to be the queen."
Miles' eyes widened for a second.
"Queen?" he repeated. "Queen of what? My clan?"
"Exactly," she replied. "Queen of the Mist Clan."
He examined her from head to toe.
"How old are you, exactly?"
"Fifteen," she said. "And you?"
"Fourteen."
Miles stayed silent for a few seconds… then smiled.
"Fine," he said. "I accept. You'll be the queen."
"But listen carefully," he added in a lower voice. "At no point will you question my authority."
She smirked.
"Keep dreaming," she replied. "You're the one who's going to learn to respect me."
Without another word, she turned and made a simple gesture.
All the other girls began to follow her, integrating into the Mist Clan.
Miles watched her walk away.
The posture.
The confidence.
The complete absence of fear.
For a moment, a thought crossed his mind:
This one could take my place.
And at that exact moment, without realizing it, Miles added a dangerous piece to his own game.
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