Alexa opened her eyes, surprised to find herself standing on a path along a hillside. She looked around, searching for something, but saw nothing but nature. From the angle of the sunlight, she realized it was sunset. With nothing else to do, she followed the natural trail. There seemed to be very little civilization in the area—no birds crossed the sky. For some strange reason, she felt a deep ache in her chest.
After a few minutes, she spotted a house at the top of the hill—more like an estate—with more than forty rooftops rising above a surrounding wall. When she reached the massive wooden gate, she noticed it was open, revealing a stone pathway. Just as she was about to take a step forward, she suddenly reacted, truly opening her eyes.
It had been a dream.
The black-haired girl sat up in bed and walked to her vanity to wash her face, thinking, What was that place? After drying her face, she returned to bed and stared at the ceiling.
Is that what people mean when they talk about my family's gift? she wondered.
She sighed, still thinking about what she had seen. Even though she had no idea where she had been in the dream, she felt anger—and fear. It was the same feeling she had the day she woke up in the hospital and learned that her grandmother had died.
The sensation left Alexa unsettled, but it didn't stop her from falling asleep again.
At the same time, at the city police station, Detective Jason finished placing three DNA samples he had obtained from the corpse of Marcelo Álvarez. He looked at the rapist's body and thought:
You got what you deserved, bastard. You abused and murdered more than ten women. Bleeding out from your groin sounds like a fitting punishment.
He examined one of the dead man's hands, then, after a moment of thought, put his latex gloves back on. With a swab, he collected another sample, hoping to identify more victims of the criminal.
The machine beeped, indicating matches. Jason removed the samples and inserted the new one. He tossed the gloves into the trash, removed his mask after storing the body in the morgue, and sat down to wait for the results.
Closing his eyes, he thought, I must be crazy to come from another country to Guarly. This city has suffered more terrorist attacks in one year than most places do in a decade. But I'm addicted to action—I can't help being drawn to the damage left behind.
The machine beeped again, delivering the results of two samples. Jason took the first sheet and walked to his notebook, reading aloud:
"Looks like there are sixteen victims now."
He picked up the final result—but it read No Match.
That caught his attention.
Jason took the file containing all known victims since the first sexual assault reports up until the discovery of the man's corpse in an alley. He thought:
This means two things: either this person was abused and never reported it, or they were the criminal's partner. But there's no record of him having any emotional relationship. Which means there is definitely a seventeenth victim of sexual assault—someone who was nearby, or possibly the one who caused his death. Maybe he deserved it… but killing him still makes you a criminal, and criminals must be punished.
The discovery of another victim excited Jason—it could be his first major solo achievement since arriving in Guarly. Without hesitation, he left the room to search for more records that could lead him to the unidentified victim.
It was Wednesday, five in the morning, at the Sejuk mansion.
A blond boy walked downstairs, yawning as he searched for something to drink. When he reached the first floor, he noticed the kitchen lights were on, which surprised him. He followed the light and found Mario cooking at an incredible speed, completely silent.
Jerome greeted him politely, opened the refrigerator, and pulled out a pitcher filled with a thick orange liquid. He poured himself a glass, returned the pitcher, and sat on a wooden stool, watching the Italian chef work. He took a sip—and immediately paled, forcing himself not to vomit.
He stared at the glass in disgust. Mario noticed and smiled slightly, clearly amused to see him up so early—just in time for what he was baking.
Jerome (disgusted): "Mario, why does my sister leave her cucumber, tomato, and lemon juice unlabelled?"
Mario (smiling): "I don't think she accounts for her nighttime thirst."
He pulled something from the oven.
Jerome (drinking with effort): "This tastes like crap."
Mario (decorating with cream): "Then why drink it?"
Jerome (thoughtful): "Because I won't disrespect something my little sister made with effort. I already poured a glass—it's not good to waste food, right? Isn't that what you always say?"
Mario (smiling as he rummaged through a drawer): "Sei un grande fratello maggiore!"
Jerome (smirking while drinking): "I don't think so. I just don't want to offend her. Did you wake up this early to avoid Aunt Carmen?"
Mario shivered slightly as he lit some candles.
Mario: "Heh… yes. It's better to avoid Signora Carmen. By the way—"
He turned around, revealing a small, beautifully decorated cake with lit candles.
"Feliz compleanno, seventeen, Signore Jerome!"
Jerome smiled. No matter how many times he said he didn't want anything special because he spent his birthday out with friends, the sight of the cake made a tear form in his eye—along with a bright smile.
He blew out the candles, remembering all the times Mario had helped him, scolded him, and given him advice. Mario hid his face behind his large white chef's hat, emotional—reminded of a time when he himself had been more expressive, back when the Sejuk family still had its maternal figure.
Still smiling, Jerome finished his juice, took the small cake, and left the room. Mario continued cooking, smiling, knowing that boy was still the same inside.
At that moment, someone who had been hiding near the kitchen entrance stepped in. Mario recognized her immediately and tensed, afraid she might start touching him—but instead, she sat down, watching him thoughtfully.
Carmen: "You're very good, Mario. You care more about those children than their own father."
Mario (cooking): "I only do my duty."
Carmen (looking at the empty seat): "Don't misunderstand—my brother is a good father. But since Natalia died, everything here changed. All her pictures were taken down… even her paintings are gone."
Mario (sadly, flipping pancakes): "Yes. It was a loss that affected everyone—especially Signore Alexandre."
Carmen (smiling): "I'm glad my nephews have you. It's unfortunate that Alexandre can't speak normally with Jerome, and that he's close to Francesca only because she follows his path."
Mario: "The giovani donne will always have each other."
Carmen: "That's true. And if not—you'll be there to help them."
Mario (turning off the stove, serious): "It feels like yesterday… but it's been twelve years since we buried the Signora."
Carmen (smiling at the ceiling): "She was kind, intelligent, and beautiful. Her ability to see beauty in everything was incredible. She inspired me to become a photographer."
Mario (handing Carmen a small pastry): "She welcomed me so warmly—a complete foreigner who abandoned his family in Italy out of pride… and she made me part of hers."
Tears fell. "That's why I'll always protect the giovani donne—to thank her for treating me like family."
Carmen (smiling sweetly): "You know… you make it very hard not to fall in love with you."
Mario (blushing, wiping his tears): "I-if you say so… I'm surprised you didn't take advantage while my guard was down."
Carmen (standing, teasing): "I'd never do that while you're cooking."
She winked as she left. "So you're safe—as long as you cook."
Mario swallowed hard, lowering the oven flame.
How do I escape this quickly? he thought.
That afternoon, the heat was intense.
In a forest clearing, Tyron sat meditating, focusing on a memory of fishing trips with his family. He imagined the cold sensation of Positive Fiu forming into a sphere. Minutes passed. Exhausted, he opened his eyes to find a one-meter-wide orb. It dissipated into the air as his expression shifted from awe to frustration.
He looked at his companion—Alexa—who, despite a few beads of sweat, had formed an energy sphere at least twice the size of his.
Elsewhere, Emily opened her eyes abruptly. The cave floor around her was shattered, her body burning. As she tried to stand, a piece of rock molded itself to support her. What shocked her more was that her legs couldn't support her weight.
From above, Jayden said, "Your body released a massive amount of Fiu while you confronted your negative emotions. Rest for a bit, then try taking a few steps."
Francesca was doing squat jumps while carrying heavy equipment and holding large weights. Her arm veins bulged. After countless repetitions, she collapsed onto the platform, breathing heavily.
"How much do these things weigh?" she asked.
Jayden replied calmly, "You're wearing a twenty-kilo vest, two five-kilo wrist weights, two five-kilo ankle weights, and the dumbbells are forty kilos each."
She snorted, every muscle aching.
At four in the afternoon, the students gathered to rest. Jayden meditated quietly. Francesca debated whether to tell the others she'd be leaving for two weeks with her aunt.
Tyron noticed her distant gaze and poked her shoulder. She looked at him—kind, but worried. Eye contact with Francesca always made him blush, but he swallowed and asked:
"E-everything okay, Fran?"
She thought for a moment, then decided.
"I need to tell you something. On Friday, I'm going to stay with my aunt for a while."
"For how long?" Tyron asked.
Emily frowned. "What if the Director's men attack while you're gone? We won't be at full strength."
Alexa whispered to Tyron, "I think there's a bigger problem. If she leaves, the city won't just lose a vigilante—someone else might get angry." She pointed at the porch.
Francesca remained serious. "It's only two weeks. And if something happens you can't handle, just say the master's full name. He's supposed to help."
Tyron nodded. "That's true—but I don't think he'll like you stopping training for two weeks."
At that moment, Jayden emerged with three wooden targets. He placed them twenty-five meters away and motioned for Emily, Tyron, and Francesca to stay near the porch. Alexa tried to sit out, thinking she wouldn't be needed—but Jayden ordered her to join them.
"Why do you think this energy is called Fiu?" he asked.
No one answered.
Jayden aimed his left palm at the forest, firing a visible blast that set a tree ablaze.
"When this energy was discovered, there was no language," he said tiredly. "So it was named after the sound the first person made when firing it. Now—you'll do the same. Don't think. Feel heat, warmth, or cold. Imagine throwing something."
The three aimed at the targets. Nothing happened.
Alexa tried to help, but Jayden stopped her.
"Feel it," he said. "Flow with it. Push for one second—like shouting 'surprise.'"
Their palms glowed.
Francesca fired first—a pale-blue blast that froze the target solid.
Tyron followed—a lightning bolt that ignited the target and the ground around it.
Then Emily released a brownish-green surge that solidified into a massive rock, piercing the target cleanly.
Jayden stepped back. "Good."
The three felt dizzy.
"That's normal," Jayden said. "Your energy increased rapidly. You still need control to avoid wasting it. Wind—your turn."
Alexa fired a wind blast. Jayden deflected it effortlessly, the attack crashing into a tree.
"Another way to improve control is focusing energy into specific body parts," he said. "That's enough for today."
As they left, Alexa hesitated—wondering if she should ask about her dream. After a moment, she ran after the others, heading back to the city.
While running, Tyron led the way, enjoying the freedom. Emily noticed Francesca looked thoughtful. Suddenly, Francesca stopped.
"If my aunt lets me bring friends, and your parents agree… would you like to come?"
The others exchanged looks. Francesca clarified:
"Yes—Alexa too."
Emily hesitated. "It might be nice to rest… but the city—"
Francesca shook her head. "If the Director hasn't acted in three months, they're planning something big. Two weeks won't change that."
Tyron smiled. "Come on—it'll be fun. Together, we can convince the master."
The girls exchanged glances, then smiled.
At the Sejuk mansion, sunset painted the walls gold. Carmen considered her niece's request, surprised. Alexandre smiled faintly—happy Francesca had friends, though uneasy that a boy was included.
"Who are these friends?" Carmen asked.
Francesca described them. When she mentioned Alexa, Carmen barely reacted—focused instead on the boy.
"So this young man is coming too?" Carmen smiled.
"Yes," Francesca replied. "He's my friend."
"Well," Carmen said, "as long as their parents sign permission slips, there's no problem."
Francesca nodded, texting her friends. The biggest challenge remained—convincing their master.
The next day, they gathered before Jayden.
"What are you plotting, idiots?" he asked.
Francesca stepped forward. "Master—can we take a two-week break?"
Jayden poured tea. "No."
"But we're going to the beach!" Tyron protested.
Jayden paused. "Beach… does it have water?"
"Yes," Francesca replied.
Jayden smiled wickedly. "Then go. Training's over for today."
The four bumped fists, grinning—permission secured.