The days pass, and training fills them without pattern or visible progression. With évra, there is no sequence to follow, no measurable improvement. There are only blows, impacts, the ground rushing up to meet us, and the repeated command to stand. Our bodies endure until they reach their limits, and then they break.
At that breaking point, something else responds. It is not a conscious decision and not a reflex we have practiced. It comes from deeper, triggered when the body can no longer sustain the strain. Our Words react. I feel it without being able to describe it clearly. It does not grant new strength. It forces something into alignment, tightening where collapse would begin.
The first week ends that way. We are exhausted, marked, still upright, but internally off-balance.
Valie waits until the imbalance becomes obvious. She steps into the arena with a tablet in her hand, stops in front of us, and makes a brief gesture.
“Come closer.”
We form a semicircle. She studies us in silence for several seconds, her expression unreadable.
She turns to Aris.
“You collapse after impact.”
He nods once.
“When your body tries to keep pace with what your Word imposes, the more solid the opponent, the wider the gap becomes. That gap is what breaks you.”
She records something on her tablet and shifts her attention to Fortuna.
“In your case, it works the other way. When your ability functions perfectly, you loosen your focus. When it fails, you cannot trace the cause.”
Fortuna says nothing.
Valie turns toward me. Her gaze sharpens slightly.
“Heyo. What overflows in you is not a capability.”
She taps the screen once.
“It is excess. Your reserve is fragmented, yet it remains above acceptable levels for your stage.”
She pauses.
“You are Littera. Not weak. Unstable. Your Words act without your consent.”
Her voice remains even.
“As you are now, you are not being trained. You are being monitored.”
She steps back. évra takes over.
“That is enough for today. Valie confirmed what she needed. So did I.”
She moves closer to us.
“As long as you remain in this state, I will not push further. Not because you lack strength. Because you pose a risk.”
Her gaze rests on each of us in turn.
“Starting tomorrow, I will be absent. A different form of training is granted. You will have access to zone -1, Corpius, and zone -2, Turus.”
She holds our attention.
“You will live there neither as soldiers nor as detainees, but as civilians.”
Her tone does not shift.
“I expect discipline. What you build there will weigh more than any session in this arena.”
A faint mechanical clicking echoes in the space. évra tilts her head slightly.
“We will remain close enough to intervene if necessary.”
She turns away.
“Enjoy this freedom.”
For a few seconds, none of us respond. Then a restrained smile spreads across our faces, awkward and restrained, the kind that surfaces when tension releases too quickly.
Fortuna breaks the silence.
“Let’s eat something to celebrate.”
We walk through the corridors used by everyone else. The path is simple: reception, dormitory, cafeteria.
We enter without expectation. The atmosphere feels steady, almost ordinary.
My eyes widen before I realize it. At the back of the cafeteria, Rose is there. I straighten instinctively, ready to catch her attention.
She is not alone.
A boy stands beside her, close enough to suggest familiarity. He appears relaxed, comfortable in her presence. My movement stops. My throat tightens without clear cause. I glance away, then back.
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Fortuna notices.
“Ah.”
She looks at me with immediate understanding.
“That explains it.”
I frown.
“Explains what?”
She nods toward Rose, then back at me.
“Your expression.”
I tighten my jaw.
“Who is he?”
Fortuna studies the scene with calm focus, as if assessing a position before committing.
“Confident. No need to defend himself.”
She tilts her head slightly.
“And he is not trying to impress her.”
The boy lifts his head at that moment. Light gray hair reflects the cafeteria lights. His posture remains composed. His uniform bears a discreet star. His green eyes move with quiet awareness, distinguishing what deserves attention from what does not.
Fortuna lets out a soft laugh.
“That’s unfortunate for you.”
She pats my shoulder, satisfied with her conclusion.
“But the game isn’t over until someone loses.”
Her smile carries certainty.
“And I always play for my team.”
She steps away lightly, leaving me with the uncomfortable sensation of having fallen behind without noticing when. I find myself seated at a table without recalling the transition. Fortuna sits at my right. Rose across from me. The boy beside her. I did not arrange this. I simply followed.
He speaks first. His voice is calm, almost soothing against the background noise.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Viktor. And this is Rose.”
Rose follows, tone even.
“Hi, Heyo.”
It takes me a second to respond.
“Hi, Rose.”
Fortuna leans forward before I can continue.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Fortuna. You’re the first people our age we’ve met here. Sorry if we’re intruding, but I’m curious.”
Viktor appears unbothered.
“You’re not intruding. And I’m curious as well. Are you new?”
Fortuna answers immediately.
“You could say that. We’re anomalies. Captured and monitored because our Words are considered dangerous to L?UVRE.”
Tension forms quietly in my chest. Sharing that so casually feels reckless. I lower my gaze.
Viktor does not shift.
“Incredible. Then you must be strong.”
He gestures lightly toward himself and Rose.
“We’re apprentice soldiers. Our goal is to become demon hunters.”
Fortuna shrugs.
“That’s our direction too, I think. It’s still unclear.”
Viktor nods.
“In that case, what I’m about to tell Rose concerns you as well. My team passed the qualification tournament. We are admitted to the final trial.”
He pauses.
“If you want access, you must win the tournament. It begins in two weeks.”
Fortuna raises her hand.
“Two weeks? Our Words awakened only recently.”
“Yes,” Viktor replies. “The tournament is limited to apprentices, but many have trained for months, sometimes years.”
The exchange narrows between them. Fortuna fires questions. Viktor answers directly. Their voices remain audible but drift to the edge of my focus. I eat without following every word. Rose eats quietly across from me. She does not engage deeply in the conversation, yet she does not withdraw.
When trays empty, Viktor stands. Fortuna walks with him a few steps, still engaged.
Well played, Fortuna.
Rose speaks first.
“I have to go.”
Tension moves through me before I process it.
“Your garden… where is it?”
Her expression barely shifts, but her gaze deepens.
“Follow me.”
She turns immediately.
I walk a few steps behind her. The corridor remains narrow, carved from dark stone that retains the cool air. Halfway down, a small table stands against the wall with a carefully maintained flower. Rose stops. A watering can appears in her hand. Water pours steadily. A door opens behind her.
The garden.
I remain still for a moment. The arrangement, the balance, the placement of each plant match my memory exactly. I say nothing. Something settles inside me. The weight of the day fades. Remaining in HQ does not feel suffocating here.
I step forward and help her water, then tend the plants. My movements align with hers naturally. Silence fills the space without effort.
She continues watering.
I speak.
“I have some free time. I can help you take care of the garden, if you want.”
“Four o’clock.”
I hesitate.
“Four o’clock?”
“Tomorrow. You come here at four.”
Silence lingers as I search for a response.
“Tomorrow is another day.”
She adjusts the watering can.
“Exactly.”
I remain still.
“It’s called planning.”
The word stays.
Later, I return to the dormitory, humming without noticing. Fortuna and Aris sit on the red couch, television on.
Fortuna looks at me immediately.
“Judging by your face, I assume it went well.”
I shrug. The smile forms without effort.
“It was normal.”
She laughs.
“You should trust yourself more. And that expression suits you better.”
I do not answer. I sit beside them.
She leans forward.
“So what are you going to do?”
Aris responds first.
“I’ll train. Then explore the city.”
She grimaces.
“That sounds dull.”
She turns to me.
“And you?”
“I’ll wait until tomorrow.”
Her eyebrows lift.
“Wait for what?”
“At four, I’m seeing Rose.”
Her eyes light up.
“Well. I underestimated you. I’m on your side.”
The more she speaks, the less certain I am of her strategy, but her energy feels reassuring.
“And you?” I ask. “What are you planning?”
She smiles.
“I’m going to fulfill my destiny.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’ll see. I’ll send a message when it matters.”
I let it drop.
Later, lying in the dark, I stare at the ceiling. Tomorrow. Four o’clock. A garden. An appointment that is neither an order nor a trial. For the first time since arriving here, survival is not the first thought in my mind.
