Alexa opened her eyes and realized she was in the forest with her two companions. They seemed to be looking for someone, but strangely, their master was nowhere to be seen. The tension on her companions' faces showed clear concern.
At that moment, the door of the cabin opened and a short figure wrapped in a dark hood stepped out. The figure descended the porch stairs, clearly intending to leave as if the girls weren't there—or rather, ignoring them entirely.
"What are you doing, idiot?" Francesca snapped.
The figure froze, head lowered, and replied softly, "What's necessary."
When he finished speaking, he raised his right hand toward them, unleashing a powerful bolt of dark lightning. The three girls shielded themselves, and just as the impact was about to strike—
Alexa jolted awake in the beach house bedroom. She was sweating, her breathing ragged. Scratching the back of her neck, she wondered who that figure had been. Could it have been Tyron? No—that was impossible. The power she'd felt was too real, radiating pure fury, and Tyron's lightning was yellow, not dark.
With nothing more she could make of it, she lay back down, hoping to forget the strange dream.
Three days had passed since the youths reunited with their master. That afternoon, in a secluded area of the beach, they continued training to improve their control over Fiu.
Francesca stood out, finally managing to lift herself completely onto the water. She took at most two steps before losing balance and plunging into the depths. Emily was next to achieve the feat. She closed her eyes so her vision wouldn't distract her from controlling the burning sensation her power caused. The brunette took two steps, inhaled deeply—thinking it would be impossible to beat Francesca's record—but miraculously held on long enough to take one more step before collapsing from the constant use of her negative side.
Tyron maintained enough concentration to lift his entire body from the water. He rose slowly, breathing carefully, afraid of losing his progress. A droplet slid down his forehead. He took a step—then fell as the gentle vibration of the waves tickled his feet.
Finally, Alexa managed to lift her upper body out of the ocean. Her companions stared at her in amazement, sparking a thought in her mind: I won't let them beat me! Just then, she noticed Francesca and Emily take deep breaths and dive underwater, while Tyron appeared to be fleeing toward shore. Alexa turned around—and was met by a massive wave.
"This has to be a joke!" she shouted.
All four were dragged to shore. Emily tilted her head to drain water from her ear. Francesca simply stood up. Tyron spat out a mouthful of saltwater, grimacing. Reclining beneath a blue umbrella, the warrior asked calmly, "Everyone okay?"
"Yes!" Tyron shouted.
Jayden sighed tiredly and gestured behind the students. There lay Alexa, completely motionless. Francesca was the first to approach, glaring at her before smiling wickedly. She lifted her leg high and slammed her heel down into Alexa's stomach.
Alexa expelled a huge amount of water from her mouth—and nose—gasping from the impact. She glared at Francesca with resentment. "That wasn't necessary, you damn idiot!"
"What better way to wake you up?" Francesca replied with a mischievous grin.
They locked eyes, brimming with hostility. The brunettes sighed, preparing to separate them as the two pressed their foreheads together, trading insults. What none of them remembered was that their master was not a patient man.
Seeing them all standing, Jayden simply raised his hand and unleashed a massive gust of wind, hurling them back into the water as he shouted, "IF YOU HAVE THE ENERGY TO ARGUE, YOU HAVE THE ENERGY TO KEEP TRAINING!"
They spent the rest of the afternoon training, making significant progress. Emily and Francesca achieved the best results with fifteen steps each, followed by Tyron with eight, and Alexa in third with just three.
They swam back to shore, where the warrior sat by a campfire, placing his kettle over the flames and sipping his beloved tea. The adolescents approached, awaiting further orders. Mysteriously, he gestured for them to come closer.
Suspicious of a trap or surprise attack, they hesitated—but nothing happened. Instead, Jayden pulled four cups from his large bag, one for each of them. The four immediately realized they'd already fallen into the trap, remembering the awful taste of that drink.
Though they tried to flee, Jayden poured each of them a full cup of the orange liquid, smiling kindly—something rare for him.
They tried to stay positive, convincing themselves it might taste good this time. Jayden took a large sip, appearing to enjoy it as the liquid slid down his throat. The moment seemed perfect: a clear sunset, a gentle summer breeze.
Gathering all their courage, they drank.
Despite the pleasant aroma, the tea caused the same reaction as before. The four spat it out and licked the sand, desperate to rid themselves of the taste. Jayden shook his head at their behavior.
Unnoticed by him, Emily sensed something different. Compared to the last batch, this one didn't taste quite as bad. With determination, she spat out the sand and—ignoring her friends' shocked stares—took another sip, eyes closed, trying to convince herself it was good.
Same result.
She spat it out again—but for a split second, she noticed something strange behind her master. She was sure she'd seen two luminous figures.
"There's still a long way to go," Jayden said, dismissing them for the day.
He poured himself the last cup of tea and took a sip, smiling—then shivered slightly. Turning around, he found nothing there. Shrugging, he continued drinking.
Exhausted, the youths returned to the beach house. Carmen smiled at them. "How was your day?"
She received only tired smiles before they headed to their rooms.
Francesca searched her closet for clean clothes to shower, noticing a message from Nya: How's the beach training going? 🦾🦾🦾
It's tough, but we'll manage before we return to Guarly, Francesca replied, then went to bathe.
In Tyron's room, he laughed at a joke from his best friend about his "athletic Juliet." Setting his phone aside, he stared at the ceiling, wondering if he should tell Antonio the truth about being a vigilante. After everything that happened with Erinios, Antonio seemed different. With minds like his—and the pink-haired girl's—they could improve greatly. Remembering how hard Erinios had been to defeat, Tyron shook his head and let the thought go.
Night fell over Guarly. At the police station, Detective Welter pinned three photographs of trucks intercepted with weapons shipments, followed by maps tracing their routes to the city. He connected everything with red string.
"Three trucks from different states, same cargo, same destination," Matias muttered. "The companies seem legitimate…"
He added more documents. "Since the shipments started after the Liz Tower attack, we clearly dealt a blow. But the next two trucks don't make sense—why keep sending cargo that never arrives? That means at least one clean company's truck is getting through while the others are intercepted."
He sighed, removed his jacket, revealing a black tank top, and lit a cigarette. "Three companies. Three states. Three trucks. One city. Shipments always in the first week of each month. The vigilantes stopped them on different roads… meaning at least two more trucks passed through the other entrances within a week."
He added road and company photos to the corkboard, crushed the cigarette out the window, and circled Guarly's center in red. "So for three months, six trucks of military weapons reached their destination. All that's left is finding the ideal hideout."
He sat, hands on his chin. "Something's off. The companies paid the fines without protest. Either the Director controls them—or his soldiers intimidate drivers mid-route to swap cargo."
Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Matias quickly shut the window, phone in hand, José's contact ready, his other hand aimed at the door. A shadow appeared beneath it.
He braced to fire.
The door opened—it was the dark-haired detective.
Welter sighed in annoyance and put away his weapon and phone. Jason chuckled lightly and went to his desk, pulling out a few files.
"What are you doing here?" Matias asked, scanning his board. "Aren't you supposed to be helping the vigilantes—or arresting criminals?"
"I found something in the weapons case," Matias replied.
"I see. What did you find?" Jason asked seriously.
"Three trucks, three different companies, headquartered in different provinces."
"And?"
"That if escorts were assigned after the first shipment, they've been intercepted—so multiple trucks enter the city via different routes in the first week of each month." He grabbed Guarly's photo. "I'm heading out to see what's happening."
"Alright. See you," Jason said.
Welter left, climbed into his patrol car, and drove toward downtown.
Jason examined two complaints. "Maria Bloom reported harassment by Marcelo Álvarez. Days later, his body was found in Green Tiger Park…" He marked the area on a map. "This other report—the woman who killed the original aggressor. Her nephews likely hid her somewhere safe… or the first rapist marked her for his successors."
He marked another area. "The last victim of the brothers was found unconscious in an alley—she works the night shift at a gas station in Orlando Ramírez district."
The locations were close. Jason circled the spot where the first rapist's body was found—right between the park and the neighborhood.
"Good. I have the search area. If my theory's right, the seventeenth victim will be connected to Maria Bloom. Soon… very soon, I'll find her."
A new day dawned. That afternoon, Emily surfaced to breathe after managing twenty-five steps—halfway to the shore. Exhausted from heavy Fiu use, she floated, thinking about the silhouettes she'd seen the day before. She was sure something had been there.
Tyron splashed down beside her, equally drained. They floated together until Francesca passed in front of them, crushing their record with forty steps. Watching her return to try again, they realized that despite her fatigue, she never stopped—sparking their own competitive drive.
Alexa managed only sixteen steps before collapsing. Watching the others surpass her, she breathed deeply, holding back her frustration, and continued training for hours.
On the final attempt of the day, Emily and Francesca were the first to reach the shore walking on water. Emily jumped with excitement, hugging Francesca. The blonde focused more on catching her breath than celebrating.
Jayden stood, raised his palm—and sent them both back into the ocean.
"Now the fun part begins," he said confidently. "Reach the shore and stop me from sending you back. I'll launch a gust the moment you touch the sand. To stop me, reach me and strike palms with mine."
They nodded, stunned by the challenge—but before they could try, Jayden dismissed them for the day.
As the four left the water, Jayden whistled, beckoning Alexa. She approached while the others waited.
"Tell me what's wrong," he said. "Your Fiu is disturbed—afraid. What did you do this time?"
Alexa looked down, weighed by her dreams. "There are rumors my family has an extra ability—beyond pioneering wind techniques."
Jayden nodded, pouring tea.
"I've had two dreams," she continued. "One where I walked toward massive wooden gates on a hill, feeling sadness… and another where I was with Emily and the blonde near your cabin. You weren't there. Someone came out and attacked us with… black lightning."
"Interesting," Jayden said calmly. "Don't worry."
"But what if it's true? What if my family can see the future?"
"They can," Jayden admitted.
Alexa stood, furious. "Then aren't you worried?! What did I see? What's going to happen?!"
Jayden met her gaze. "The future is enigmatic. You may see a result—but nothing is set in stone. Worrying about what hasn't happened is pointless. And don't tell your companions."
"Why not?"
"Staring at the horizon waiting for a storm that may never come is the last thing you need right now."
"…Alright, Master."
She caught up with Tyron and Emily, who smiled at her.
"Why did the master call you?" Tyron asked.
"Something stupid," Alexa laughed lightly. "Just control training."
Emily frowned. "You looked worried. Are you sure?"
Before Alexa could answer, Francesca yelled from ahead, "YOU'D BETTER NOT BE HIDING SOMETHING THAT PUTS LIVES AT RISK, IDIOT!"
Alexa paused, remembering the last time she kept things to herself—and Jayden's warning. She chose her words carefully.
"I was thinking… what if one of us died?" she said softly. "We've fought sergeants, but what if the Director sends someone we can't beat?"
Francesca looked her in the eyes. "If that happens, we do what we always do—fight together with a solid plan."
"Exactly!" Tyron added, gripping Alexa's shoulder. "No matter the challenge, we've got each other's backs."
"And we'll always have the master to guide us," Emily smiled.
"I guess you're right," Alexa said softly.
"Of course I am," Francesca replied firmly.
"By the way," Emily added, "to walk on water, keep your focus and let it flow. Don't let nature distract you."
"And keep a positive mindset," Tyron grinned.
Together, they headed back toward Carmen's house.