The training chamber felt cold despite the heat in Rodrigo's chest. Hours he'd spent under the watchful, dispassionate eyes of Instructor Amelia, a woman Juno had assigned him whose face seemed carved from granite.
The focus wasn't on power. It wasn't on the seventy thousand Candellas that had briefly erupted from his machete either.
No, it was control. Tedious, frustrating, just basic control. Rodrigo had to endure breathing exercises. Visualizations. Attempting to channel a flicker of Essence, no bigger than a candle flame, and hold it steady.
His base reading remained stubbornly low, barely nudging past eight hundred Candellas according to the sleek glasses Amelia occasionally had. It was a damn pathetic number compared to the monstrous flare just earlier.
"Your Strength Essence is potent but chaotic," Amelia stated, her voice flat. You couldn't tell if she was giving words of encouragement or criticism. "It resists fine manipulation. The blade amplifies this, feeding on the raw output. You treat it like a cudgel. It requires finesse you do not possess. Yet."
Rodrigo gritted his teeth, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Finesse. Heh. Easy for her to say. War hadn't taught him finesse; it had taught him overwhelming force, decisive action, and survival. This measured approach felt so alien to him.
"Focus on the internal flow," Amelia continued. "Feel the Essence gather before you release. Smoothness precedes strength."
So he tried again, drawing a slow breath, and concentrating on the familiar heat pooling in his core. He pushed it towards his hand, aiming for a small, controlled spark. It sputtered, flickered weakly, then died with a frustrated hiss of air.
"Fuck," he muttered, making sure Amelia couldn't hear it. "Control, my ass."
Amelia made a note. "Insufficient focus. Your frustration impedes the channel. We are done for today. You have a two hour recess. Do not wander far from the Initiate Quarters. Master Juno may require your presence later."
And he was dismissed like a raw recruit. Rodrigo clenched his fists, and the urge to punch the polished steel wall was so overwhelming. He gave Amelia a fine nod, then retrieved his machete which felt stubbornly still now.
Two hours. Not enough time to do anything useful, but enough to feel caged around this 'City of PleasurableDreams'. He needed air that wasn't recycled and scented, or maybe a space that wasn't monitored.
He headed towards the small, manicured garden courtyard designated for Initiate use. It was deserted, thankfully. There were rows of perfect, unnaturally vibrant flowers lined pathways of smooth white stone, and a fountain trickled musically in the center.
It felt as artificial as everything else here.
He found a stone bench partially hidden by an impeccably trimmed hedge and slumped onto it, resting the machete beside him. He closed his eyes, trying to push down the irritation, the feeling of being scrutinized, measured, and found wanting.
"Fancy meeting you here, Sir Rodrigo."
Rodrigo's eyes snapped open. Avange stood a few steps away, leaning against the hedge. He looked… better. Significantly, exponentially better. First things first, he was clean. The ragged clothes were gone, and it was replaced by simple but well fitting tunic and trousers in a muted gray, likely provided by the city.
Still, the gauntness was still there, and the haunted look hadn't entirely left his eyes, but some color had returned to his face from before. He even managed a faint, weary smirk.
"Avange," Rodrigo grunted, relief mixing with surprise. "They let you out of the spa?"
Avange chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. "Felt more like a damn cage. Place was… something else. How about you? I heard you caused a bit of a stir earlier." He nodded towards the machete.
Rodrigo ran a hand over his face. "That's an understatement." He gestured for Avange to sit. "Please, sit. It feels like we need to talk."
Avange slid onto the bench beside him, stretching his legs out. He moved more easily than before, though a slight stiffness remained. "So," Avange prompted. "Evaluation. How'd the stuff go?"
Rodrigo leaned forward, elbows on his knees, keeping his voice low despite the secure privacy. "It went bad… Fast. They had me in this chamber, for testing control if I can recall. There was another recruit, Amada, who barely broke a sweat." He paused, remembering the effortless display. "Then it was my turn. Tried channeling into some standard issue blade they gave me. Fucking nothing. Dead."
Avange raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? The sword wouldn't take your touch?"
"Exactly. So, I told them I'd use mine." Rodrigo tapped the machete. "As soon as I drew it, the thing pulsed. Heat, energy, like it was waking up. Then Juno, the Master overseeing it, checked my Essence. I think Amada had some glasses as well." He pulled out the glasses Eclipse had given him, holding them up briefly. "These things measure power. Candellas, they call it. My base is crap, barely eight hundred."
"But?" Avange leaned in slightly, curious for more.
"But when I held the machete… the reading shot up. Seven thousand. Then seventy thousand." Rodrigo saw the disbelief in Avange's eyes. "Seventy thousand, Avange. Hundred times bigger than my pile of trash. Then it just… blew. Huge flare, room nearly came down. It knocked me out cold."
Avange whistled softly. "Seventy… Goodness, Rodrigo. Is that enough to blow up a city block?"
"Fuckin hell. If it weren't for those enchanted walls, the whole Guildhall would've blown up due to that."
Avange shook his head in disbelief. "Lord have mercy… And what did Juno say?"
"That's the thing." Rodrigo lowered his voice further. "He wasn't even surprised. The man called the machete 'Reborn'. He said it wasn't from this world, that it was forged elsewhere and tied to my Essence somehow. The flare was its power, not mine, and I lack control. I also heard some instructors whispering later too, something about the machete 'Unlocking Light'. What the hell does that even mean?"
He looked at Avange, searching his friend's face. "This place… they knew. Or they expected something. That recruiter, the token, it wasn't just about potential, was it? It was about this." He indicated the machete again.
Avange was silent for a long moment, absorbing it all. He stared down at his own hands, flexing his fingers.
"Maybe," he said finally, his voice tight. "Maybe they collect things. Things like that blade. And maybe people like you who can wield them." He met Rodrigo's gaze, and the tiredness in his eyes was now mixed with a hard flintiness. "Because the rest of this place? It feels so wrong."
"Wrong how?" Rodrigo asked.
"I told you I went to their bathhouse, as per your request from the guards," Avange began, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Luxury like you wouldn't believe shit. Attendants were smiling so hard their faces looked like they'd crack. Then the woman assigned to me… Beatrice… fuck."
He described her arrival, her almost preternatural skill. "Felt like heaven, honestly. Almost forgot where I was, who I was, when, how, whatever. Then…" He hesitated, glancing around the empty garden. "Then I felt something cold. A tear, I think. I looked up, saw her eyes in a reflection. They were glowing red, Rodrigo. Just for a second. And her smile… it broke."
"Glowing red?"
"Yeah. Not like fire. It was more like… embers deep inside. Then she panicked when I asked if she was okay. Begged me not to get her caught." Avange recounted her exact words, the fear clear in his own voice as he repeated them. "'Don't… don't make me get caught. Just let me finish.' That's what she said. Like she'd be punished just for showing a flicker of… something real and genuine."
He shook his head, rubbing his temples. "After that, it was like walking on lego bricks. I gave her five stars on their damn feedback form 'cause yeah, it was damn good, but I felt pity, man. And when she saw, she smiled like I'd just handed her a death sentence she was grateful for. It was the saddest thing I've ever seen."
He looked around the perfect garden again. "This whole city… It's beautiful, yeah. Gleaming. Efficient. But everyone moves like they're waiting for a blow to fall. The smiles don't reach the eyes. It feels… empty, sir. Like that bathhouse. All surface, nothing real underneath. And whatever is underneath, I think it's terrified."
Rodrigo processed Avange's story, comparing it to his own experience. The intense scrutiny, the focus on his unique weapon, Juno's calm reaction to impossible power, the whispers of strange potential, and now Avange's glimpse of fear beneath the perfect service.
Two different experiences, same unsettling conclusion.
"Seventy thousand Candellas," Rodrigo muttered, mostly to himself. "A Reborn blade that can 'Unlock Light'. And service workers with glowing red eyes begging not to get caught." He looked sharply at Avange. "They're looking for something specific. Or hiding something."
"Or both," Avange added grimly. He nodded at Rodrigo's pocket, where the Blissford token presumably rested.
"Yeah," Rodrigo agreed, his hand instinctively going to the locket beneath his tunic. Franca's face flashed in his mind, a grounding presence. "Yeah, we did." He felt the old weight of command settle on him, the responsibility.
He'd brought Avange here. He needed to figure this out, keep them both alive. "Alright. So, new plan. We play their game, learn what we can. You keep your eyes open out there, stick to the 'guest' routine but watch everything. I'll handle the training, see what Juno and his people really want with this machete. We stay here, but we trust no one but each other. Stay sharp."
Avange nodded, a flicker of the old determination returning to his gaze. "Always did, sir—" He stopped himself. No need for 'sirs'. "Rodrigo."
A faint smile touched Rodrigo's lips. "Good. We need—"
"Initiate Mundragon."
Both men looked up. An attendant in the crisp white and blue of the Guildhall stood at the entrance to the garden path. His posture was perfect, and his expression unreadable. This was what Avange meant by empty.
"Instructor Amelia requires your presence in preparation for Master Juno's summons. Please come with me."
The timing felt too perfect. Rodrigo exchanged a rapid, meaningful look with Avange. The recess was over.
"Duty calls, brother," Rodrigo said dryly, getting to his feet and picking up his machete. He gave Avange a final nod. "Be safe."
"You too," Avange murmured, watching Rodrigo follow the attendant back towards the heart of the gleaming, unsettling city. The garden suddenly felt much colder.