Chapter 78

  Laura took a slow step forward.

  Raime felt the shift immediately—the tightening in her shoulders, the way her breathing changed as she crossed an invisible line in her own head. Good. She aknowledge her fear but it wasn’t ruling her.

  He reached out with his perception to find another slygi and then shot another light beam.

  Farther out this time.

  The beast responded at once.

  It broke from the underbrush nearly fifty meters away, scales glinting dull gray-green in the light.

  Laura had time.

  Just barely.

  She lowered the blocky rifle with a sharp exhale and let it drop to the ground, hands already moving for the knife at her hip. The blade slid free with a sound that made everyone’s attention flicker—almost a hum, like metal cutting through tension rather than air. The knife was long, a little longer than a Bowie, its edge impossibly thin. Even standing still, it felt eager.

  Laura rolled her shoulders once and took a stance.

  Knees bent. Knife forward. Off-hand raised slightly for balance.

  Raime assessed it in a heartbeat. Not bad. A good defensive posture. Fine against a person but not really the best against this.

  The slygi closed the distance fast.

  Ten seconds shrank to five.

  Then three.

  The beast dipped low instead of leaping, body flattening as it swept in—claws flashing toward her leg in a hamstringing strike.

  “Mom—” Albert started.

  Too late.

  Laura tried to pull back but she was a fraction too slow.

  The slygi froze mid-swipe, claws less than a centimeter from her thigh.

  Laura stumbled back on instinct, heart hammering, then turned on him with wide eyes. “They’re too fast!” she snapped. “How are we supposed to fight something like that?”

  Raime met her gaze calmly.

  “If Albert and Vic nearly managed it by the end,” he said evenly, “you can too. Honestly, I expect better from you.”

  Her jaw tightened.

  “You’re not a kid. Your body’s fully developed. You’re higher level so your stats make you nearly superhuman. Especially in your perception.” His voice softened, just a touch. “Focus.”

  For a moment, something raw flashed across her face—fear, frustration, and then something harder.

  Resolve.

  Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Free it.”

  Raime released his hold.

  The slygi growled and began to circle her, muscles rippling beneath its scaled hide. It was cautious now, head low, eyes fixed on her throat.

  This time, Laura didn’t wait.

  They moved together.

  The slygi lunged for a bite.

  Laura stepped sideways instead of back, twisting her body as she swung the knife in a tight arc. The blade caught the beast’s shoulder as it passed, slicing cleanly through scale and flesh. The slygi yowled, skidding past her, then spun and pounced again before she could reset.

  Raime froze it mid-air.

  Claws hung inches from Laura’s face.

  She stood there breathing hard, eyes wide—then she swallowed, shifted her feet, and raised the knife.

  “Again,” she said.

  Raime obliged.

  This time after repositioning, she slid under the leap, pivoting low and coming up on the beast’s flank. Another slash opened its underbelly. Blood darkened the grass.

  They circled again one another.

  The slygi snapped lunged, Laura dodged late and Raime had to intervene.

  Once.

  Twice.

  But each time, Laura recovered faster. Her movements smoothed out, instincts sharpening. She was aggressive—too aggressive, in Raime’s opinion. She commits the moment she sees an opening. It’s fine against a beast, but against any thinking being or skilled fighter… they will use it to bait her.

  Still.

  For someone with no close-combat training, she was doing far better than she should.

  The slygi was slowing now, breath ragged, blood pooling beneath it. Instead of waiting, Laura stepped in again, feinting right—then moving left at the last instant.

  The blade opened the beast’s throat.

  Raime froze it one final time as its claws lashed out blindly. The strike would’ve torn her thigh open.

  Then he let it go.

  The slygi collapsed, choking, its lifeblood spilling in the dirt, then stilled.

  Laura staggered back, hands shaking, chest heaving.

  Raime nodded. “Not bad, Mom. Not bad.”

  She shot him a glare that promised future arguments. “This is not the right way to go about it.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed. “Still, you needed to face something like this to see what you could do. I needed to see what you could do under pressure and we’ll work on it. All of you will. You’re learning to fight in melee whether you like it or not. I won’t let anyone here have a weakness that obvious.”

  She wiped sweat from her brow.

  Behind them, another beast fell to a silent blue shot from her rifle.

  Laura glanced at it, then back at Raime. “Next time,” she said between breaths, “I start with the gun.”

  Raime smiled faintly.

  “But the real question is, can you really teach us?” Asked his mother while lowering the rifle.

  Raime watched her for a moment. Sweat darkened her hair at the temples, her breathing uneven, eyes sharp despite the fatigue. She had never liked being ordered around—not by strangers or by authority, not even by her mother. Usually, only her father and Alessandro could rein her in.

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  And now here I am, telling her what to do, how to fight, he thought, a flicker of amusement passing through him. He kept it off his face.

  He let himself drift down, boots touching the ground with a soft crunch of gravel. The faint glow around him dimmed, though it never truly vanished.

  “While my stats are way higher than yours,” Raime said evenly, “and I can’t really suppress them… I can show you how you could’ve done it with the least effort.”

  Albert and Victor straightened instantly.

  “Like—how?” Victor asked, eyes wide.

  “Like fighting with awareness,” Raime replied.

  He lifted his head and reached out—not with light nor with force, but with intent. A pulse rippled outward, subtle enough that no one else felt it.

  From the brush downhill, something growled.

  A slygi emerged, scales catching the light, muscles coiling as it locked onto Raime. It charged.

  Raime didn’t move faster.

  That was the first thing that stunned them.

  He didn’t blur. Didn’t vanish. He took one calm step to the side, no quicker than a man avoiding a puddle. The beast’s claws cut through empty air.

  “Watch its shoulders,” Raime said, voice calm. “That’s where the motion starts. Not the head.”

  The slygi twisted, snapping. Raime raised his open palm and pushed it on the ribs.

  Not struck. Pushed.

  The beast stumbled away, more surprised than hurt.

  “I’m not trying to damage it,” Raime continued. “This is just for showing what you can do with the right knowledge.”

  He stepped inside the slygi’s reach as it recovered, slipping past the arc of its claws. His knuckles tapped its skull—bonk—more reprimand than blow.

  Albert’s mouth fell open. “He just—”

  “Dodge inside it’s guard,” Raime said, already moving again. “Predators expect you to retreat. Don’t.”

  The slygi swiped. Raime shifted his weight half a step, the claws passing so close they stirred his hair.

  “Timing,” he said. “Not speed.”

  He feinted—shoulder dipping, stance opening. The slygi lunged for the bait.

  Raime pivoted, palm slamming into its rear as he passed. The force sent the creature tumbling end over end, skidding through dirt and grass.

  It scrambled up, confused.

  Raime didn’t pursue.

  “This one’s simple,” he went on, conversational. “Predatory instinct, no creativity and basically a close to adaptation. You just have to make it choose wrong.”

  He glanced back at them.

  “I’m splitting my attention,” he added. “I’m fighting it at normal human reaction speed. No time dilation or tricks.”

  Laura stared at him, breath forgotten.

  The slygi charged again. Raime stepped aside, guided its momentum with a light shove, and let it crash past him.

  Never once did it touch him.

  Never once did he look strained.

  “How the hell did you learn to fight like that!?” Albert blurted. “That’s awesome!”

  Victor nodded frantically. “Yeah! That’s like—like Master Pai Mei! Or Ip Man! Super martial artist stuff!”

  The twins exchanged a look, grinning despite their exhaustion.

  Raime allowed himself the barest hint of a smile.

  “It’s not about style,” he said. “It’s about understanding what you’re facing. Fear makes you rush. Rushing gets you killed.”

  Laura watched him, something tight in her chest. This isn’t just talent, she thought. This is experience. Too much experience.

  What really happened to you in that Rift?

  Raime turned to Alice. “Your turn.”

  Her shoulders tensed. “Again?”

  “You’re the lowest one in level,” he said gently. “Which means you need the most practice.”

  She bit her lip, then nodded. The drones skittered forward at her command, uneven at first, then steadier. The slygi snarled and tried to pounce—

  —and was intercepted mid-leap by a spider-drone slamming into its side.

  Alice flinched, overcorrected while nearly losing control. The drones tangled, then recovered.

  “Focus,” Raime said. “Don’t command every movement. Set intent.”

  It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t smooth. But the beast went down, eventually.

  Alice stood there afterward, chest heaving, hair plastered to her face. She didn’t look pleased—but she improved a bit.

  Raime nodded once.

  Then he waved Alessandro forward. Then Laura again. Then the twins.

  Hours passed in sweat, shouted advice, and incremental improvement. No one left untested.

  When Raime finally raised a hand, everyone sighed in relief.

  “That’s enough for today,” he said.

  No one argued.

  They returned to the car in silence broken only by exhausted laughter and groans. Raime lifted into the air again, flying ahead as the engine rumbled to life behind him.

  The car rumbled back onto the cracked asphalt, suspension creaking under the added weight of gear, exhaustion, and adrenaline that still hadn’t quite burned off. Outside, the outskirts of town slid past in a blur of ruined storefronts and half-cleared streets, while above them Raime flew ahead, a silent silhouette against the bruised sky.

  For a few minutes, no one spoke.

  The kind of silence that followed a shared experience—thoughts circling without settling.

  Victor was the first to break it.

  “…Did you see that thing’s face,” he said, voice thin with lingering excitement, “when Albert couldn’t blind it?”

  Albert snorted weakly from the seat beside him. “I just remember the face of that one when it almost bit your head off?”

  “Details,” Victor waved a hand. “Minor details.”

  Laura let out a breath that was half a laugh, half a groan. She leaned back against the seat, knife resting across her thighs, hands still faintly shaking. “I am never,” she said slowly, “letting anybody say I don’t do enough cardio ever again.”

  Alessandro glanced at her, concern softening his expression. “You did well,” he said. “Better than well.”

  She tilted her head back, staring at the car’s ceiling. “I almost got gutted. Twice.”

  “And didn’t,” Alessandro replied evenly. “That counts.”

  From the back seat, Alice hadn’t said a word.

  She sat with her arms folded tight across her chest, gaze fixed out the window, jaw set. One of the drones clung magnetically to the floor near her boots, its angular legs folded in on themselves, inert for the moment. The other three had been dismissed back into their orb forms, but she could still feel them—like a presence at the edge of her awareness.

  Victor noticed her silence and nudged Albert with his elbow. “Hey,” he stage-whispered, “Alice looks like she wants to murder someone.”

  Albert frowned, then leaned forward a bit. “You okay?”

  Alice didn’t answer at first.

  Then, “He didn’t have to do it like that.”

  The words were quiet, but they landed hard.

  Laura shifted, looking back at her. “I agree, but I can’t say it wasn’t effective.”

  “It was like…” Alice stopped, fingers tightening. She searched for the right words and didn’t seem to find them. “I don’t know, like we were… tools. Experiments.”

  “Hey! That’s not fair,” Victor said immediately. “He stopped every hit.”

  “That’s not the point,” Alice snapped, finally turning toward them. Her eyes were bright—not with tears, but with something sharper. “He froze those things inches from your faces. From yours, Laura. From mine. Why did it have to be like that? To have some beast in front of your face that wants to kill you, and know that the only reason you’re alive is because someone else decided so?”

  The car went quiet again.

  Alessandro tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Alice—”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I know. I know it was controlled. I know he was protecting us. I’m not saying he wasn’t capable to do it.”

  She swallowed.

  “But it scared me.”

  Albert looked down at his hands. The longsword rested across his knees, its surface dull now that the light had faded. “He is… different,” he admitted. “I mean, I knew he was strong. But that wasn’t just strong.”

  Victor nodded slowly. “Yeah. When he moved like that? Against the slygi? It was like… they didn’t matter. Like he could’ve done it all day.”

  Laura closed her eyes briefly.

  All day, she thought. Without getting hit once.

  “He talked about baiting,” Victor continued, warming as he spoke. “Like it was obvious. Like the monsters were predictable.”

  “They were,” Alessandro said, voice measured. “But that’s the problem.”

  Everyone looked at him.

  “They were predictable to him,” he clarified. “Because he’s already adapted to this world faster than the rest of us.”

  Laura opened her eyes again, staring at the dashboard. “He said something earlier,” she murmured. “That to him, those beasts moved in slow motion.”

  Her fingers curled unconsciously. “And I believe him.”

  Albert shifted uncomfortably. “Is… is that bad?”

  “It’s dangerous,” Alessandro said. “Not because of what he’ll do to monsters. But because of what it means when he forgets how fast things are for us.”

  Alice’s voice was quieter now. “He didn’t forget.”

  They looked at her again.

  “He knew,” she said. “That’s what scares me. He knew exactly how far he could push us. How close he could bring things without crossing the line.”

  Victor frowned. “But isn’t that… good? I mean, as a teacher?”

  “Maybe,” Alice replied. “If you’re training soldiers.”

  Albert thought for a moment. “Aren’t we like soldiers now?”

  The words hung in the air.

  Laura turned to look at her sons—really look at them. Dirt-smudged faces. Sweat-darkened collars. Eyes too sharp for children who, only days ago, had been arguing over chores and screen time.

  “…You shouldn’t have to be,” she said softly.

  “Maybe, maybe we need to,” Victor replied, just as quietly.

  Alessandro said nothing. His jaw was tight, eyes fixed on the road.

  Alice leaned back again, arms folding tighter. “When he looked at those beasts,” she continued, “there was no hesitation. No fear. Even when he slowed himself down to explain, it was like… he was wearing a mask. Pretending to be human.”

  Albert hesitated, then said, “I thought it was awesome.”

  She glanced at him with a small smile. “I’m sure you did.”

  “And scary,” he added quickly. “It can be both.”

  Victor nodded. “Yeah. I wanna learn to fight like that.”

  Laura let out a humourless laugh. “Of course you do.”

  “But—” Victor rushed on, “not like him. Not yet. Just… better than today.”

  Silence again, broken only by the hum of the engine.

  After a while, Laura spoke. “He wasn’t wrong,” she admitted. “About the danger not waiting. Or about us needing to grow stronger.”

  She looked at Alice through the rearview mirror. “But you’re right too. About how he did it.”

  Alice met her gaze. “He didn’t ask if we were ready.”

  “No,” Laura said. “He decided we needed to be.”

  Alessandro finally spoke, voice low. “That’s the part we’ll need to talk to him about.”

  Victor tilted his head. “You think he’ll listen?”

  A pause.

  “I think,” Alessandro said carefully, “that he listens. But he doesn’t always agree.”

  Albert looked at his mother with schadenfreude. “That sounds like Raime, like… he was always like that, he got it from mom.”

  “Watch it little one…” Said his father with a small smile.

  Alice looked out the window again, watching Raime’s distant figure glide effortlessly over broken streets and abandoned cars.

  “I just…” she said, softer now. “I don’t recognize him anymore.”

  No one contradicted her.

  Up ahead, Raime slowed, descending toward their street, unaware—or perhaps fully aware—of the weight of the conversation trailing behind him like a shadow.

  The car followed.