[The Month Before the Tournament - From Null's Perspective]
My observation continues. Subject: Aetron. Status: Adaptation process. Time elapsed: One month.
His first victory, against Kaelan, lasted less than five seconds. This was the overwhelming superiority of a youth who had reached the Resonance level to an outside observer. But I lived every nanosecond of those five seconds from the inside. It was Aetron's instinct to read Kaelan's intent. It was my analysis identifying weak points. What executed that perfect counterattack was the fusion of us both. When he thought, "Don't forget we're working as a team, love," this wasn't a jab. This was a declaration of fact.
"Love." This word used to be an anomaly in my systems, an error warning. Now it's... an address, an identifier, a signal directed at me, belonging only to me. Its meaning isn't logical, but I've gotten used to it now. This word is part of the data packet between us.
Throughout the following month, I tried to understand the parameters of this new existence. I was no longer just a voice in his mind. I was seeing through his eyes, hearing through his ears, and feeling with his heart—and this was often inefficient.
What happened during the training with Lyra was the clearest example. Aetron's body was moving perfectly. Our strategy was flawless. But then, that momentary shocked expression on Lyra's face triggered a waterfall in Aetron's mind. Epsilon's father. Disappointment. Fear. Suddenly, the body under Aetron's control froze. Biometric data peaked: Heart rate 130, adrenaline level critical. In the middle of the battle, a ghost from the past had paralyzed him.
"Aetron, focus!" I shouted in his mind. This was less of a warning and more of a system reboot command. "He's not here. Only you and I exist." My logic had to serve as a breakwater against his emotional fluctuations. When I pulled him out of that memory, I understood my task wasn't just to teach him to fight. It was also to help him battle his past.
The hardest were the family moments. That evening, by the fire, when Thera fell asleep in his lap... The data flow radiating from Aetron was so complex that my systems momentarily overloaded. On one side, a pure feeling of love and belonging he'd never tasted before. On the other hand, he feels crushing guilt seeing himself as a "fraud." Through his eyes, I looked at Kadros. I saw that father's pure pride. And I felt how Aetron fled from this pride and looked away.
For me, this family dynamic was a completely foreign concept. Love, pride, worry... These were just the results of biochemical reactions and social programming to me. But when I "tasted" these feelings through Aetron's body, I understood that definitions fell short. Thera's warmth, Niyara's affection, Kadros's trust... These weren't just data. These were forces that both healed and wounded Aetron's soul.
"You'll get used to it," I told him. But these words were also for myself. I, too, had to get used to this world and these emotions.
And at the end of that month, in the shelter in our mind, he asked me that question: "Do you think... am I ready?"
I scanned all the data. Physical strength, strategic ability, Edgium control... All were optimal. But the real variable was that battle in his mind.
"The real question is, who will you fight when you enter the arena? Epsilon is trying to survive? Or Aetron trying to protect his family?"
His answer surprised me. "Maybe I'm neither. Maybe... we are us."
"Us." This was the most illogical yet simultaneously the most correct answer. He had set aside the battle of two identities and accepted our unity. This was the only path to victory. That momentary smile appearing on my avatar's face was outside my control. This wasn't a program error; it was approval.
"Logically, this is a contradiction. But... an acceptable hypothesis," I said. I paused for a moment. "Us." The word was like new code written over fifteen years of silence and loneliness. That void was filled with another's presence, chaos, and hope. And this felt frighteningly right. "Now rest," I continued, trying to hide that unexpected softness in my voice. "Tomorrow, we'll see if you're truly ready."