Rhett watched the petal form and melt. A smile spread across his face.
It was just a start, but she had found her own direction.
Roses... sharp, but beautiful. Ice... cold, but pure.
It suited her.
"Good," Rhett said, his tone genuinely approving. "Ugly and weak, but the direction is right."
He walked over and crouched down to look her in the eye. "Remember this feeling. Whatever you like, turn it into that. The power is yours. Make it what you want."
"As for making it stronger and obeying you..." Rhett stood up. The blood mist in his palm formed a detailed, layered blood rose. Each petal was lifelike.
"Starting tomorrow, I'll help you. When you can defend yourself, I'll teach you other things. I'm a great swordsman. You might not know what that means, but trust me, I'm good with a sword."
She looked at him, then at her own hand. She nodded slightly.
Rhett looked at the quiet girl beside him. Rose... it sounded better than "Holy Maiden" or "Price."
His future vice captain was taking shape.
He suddenly wondered: was he saving the past Witte, or had the future Witte found him first? Whatever. Who cared?
---
Three months passed with the tides.
In the forest clearing, a slender figure often faced giant beasts.
At first, it was dangerous. Her ice roses only left frost on the boars' hides, slowing them for a moment. Then came a charge, forcing her to dodge.
She would be thrown.
Pfft.
But she learned fast. She understood that the power of the fruit was already in her. She had just been rejecting it. When she accepted it...
She knew how to release cold and form ice. But Rhett wanted more. Control. Shape. To make it her own.
No more random cold. Focused, guided power. No more fragile ice. Ice roses that could freeze and bloom at her will.
One day, another boar, driven by Rhett's mist, charged at her.
Her eyes were focused. No fear. No numbness. Pure concentration. She sidestepped, her hands moving forward.
Cold flowed from her palms. Not mist, but quick-forming ice. Vines of frozen roses and sharp thorns burst from the ground, wrapping around the boar's legs and body.
The boar screamed, breaking some vines. But more grew, freezing it. Its movements slowed.
Sweat on her brow. This was still hard. But she pushed on, her eyes bright.
She clasped her hands.
"Bloom!"
The vines exploded with cold. The boar froze solid. Its roar frozen in time.
Then came the cracks. The ice shattered. The boar fell apart, turning to frost and dust.
She panted, looking at her hands. She had done it alone.
Rhett clapped from the trees. "Not bad. Still rough, but you're getting it."
"Turning it to ice saves the trouble of cleaning. What do you call it?"
She thought for a moment. "Flower... Burial?"
Rhett thought. "Flower Burial? Good name. We'll use that."
He patted her shoulder. "Remember this feeling. This is just the start."
She looked at his smile, then at her hand. A small ice rose bloomed. It was much stronger than before.
She closed her fist, feeling the cold. Something inside her was growing.
Rhett's finger appeared on her head.
Poke, poke, poke!
"It's cool, but that boar was food. Wasting food is wrong."
Poke, poke, poke.
"Big boar. Enough for days. You just blew it up."
She didn't flinch. She just puffed her cheeks and covered her head.