"Conviction."
Solomon said it with heavy emphasis.
Still, the trio looked confused. After everything they had just endured, they had expected some forbidden technique, an ancient magic, or a hidden truth torn from the depths of a forgotten world. But conviction? What did that even mean?
Solomon saw their uncertainty and continued.
"When your entire world begins to collapse—when your body turns against you, when your mind begins to crack under pressure—there has to be something inside you that matters more than your life."
He stepped forward, the weight of his presence intensifying with each word.
"Only those who have something worth dying for can survive the burden of knowledge they aren't yet ready to carry. Conviction isn't just belief. It's the one thing that holds you together when everything else tries to tear you apart."
He let the words settle in the humid air, then added quietly,
"The stronger your conviction, the more you can resist. I'm here to help you find it—and forge it—so you can endure truths others would shatter under and walk through dangers that would kill a lesser will. That's what it means to be an Edgerunner."
The three of them were sprawled across the soaked and steaming grass, bodies trembling with the aftereffects of the attack. Solomon's words felt like distant echoes—lofty, unreachable. They could barely move, let alone contemplate lofty ideals. The last embers of the bio-surge still gnawed at their nerves, and in some corners of their bodies, rogue cells still tried to spark independent lives.
"This next part of your education," Solomon continued, "is about finding a conviction you'd lay your life down for—and then fusing it into your very being. If necessary, we'll make it into a fault… but one you choose for yourself."
With that, he turned and walked away, his silhouette vanishing between the shattered pillars of their training field. The mist hung heavy in the air. Rain began to fall again, light and warm.
Nemo rolled onto his back, gasping. "How did he manage to get you two? I thought you closed your ears."
Holt was kneeling, hands on the ground, still recovering. "For that matter, why didn't _you_? You must've felt it too, right?"
Nemo groaned. "Remember my fault? It's curiosity—not asking questions. As long as I'm learning, I stay quiet. But I guess knowledge that might kill me has a certain… irresistible pull. I froze before I could cover them."
Giada, still lying on her side, let out a weak laugh. "So your fault wants you dead."
Nemo shot her a tired glare. She wasn't wrong. His fault felt less like a personality quirk and more like a parasite, tempting him into danger again and again.
Trying to shake it off, he shifted his gaze. "Do you two have any idea what Solomon meant by conviction?"
Giada shook her head, but Holt slowly rose to his feet, wobbling slightly. He stared into the mist where Solomon had disappeared.
"I don't fully understand it," Holt said, "but I think I get the gist."
He turned to face them, a reflective look on his face.
"Didn't you notice it? When everything was falling apart—when your body was going haywire—you were searching for something to hold on to. Not physically. Mentally."
The others fell quiet. They thought back. There had been something like that—a fleeting moment of panic where instinct took over, and they grasped for a tether.
"Did you find anything?" Holt asked.
Both Nemo and Giada shook their heads. Holt nodded, slowly.
"I did. I mean... I think I did. It wasn't clear, but something flickered. A thread. Maybe it's not enough yet, but it's a start."
Nemo raised an eyebrow. "And what was it?"
Holt hesitated, then looked at the sky. The rain streaked his face, but he didn't flinch.
"My father was an Awakened," he said. "Not from Atlantis. He never bought into the whole separation between mundane and Awakened. To him, the world was just the world."
He sighed, his voice softening.
"When I was younger, we used to spend days just... living. Fishing, eating street food, and watching birds. But on some days, when the sun hit just right and the silence got too heavy, he'd talk about my mother. About their life. And then he'd say this thing, like a curse he carried".
'Son, there's only one truth that matters in this world—and that's power. Don't get attached. Don't care. Not unless you have power. Don't make the same mistake I did.'
"He disappeared not long after. Like so many Awakened, swallowed up by some mission or conflict no one remembers now. Probably died because he wasn't strong enough."
There was no anger in Holt's voice. Just resignation.
"I think that's my conviction," he said. "To never be that powerless. To make sure I can protect what matters to me—so I never have to watch everything crumble like he did."
For a moment, none of them spoke. Giada eventually stood, brushing rain from her sleeves. She looked at Holt with a quiet kind of admiration.
"Thank you for sharing that. I respect your conviction… but it's not mine."
Her voice carried a soft strength.
"My family was mundane. Life on Atlantis was harsh but fair. Until something happened. I don't know what. One day, they were gone—corrupted, warped beyond recognition."
She looked down at her hands. They were trembling slightly.
"I think my conviction will be this: to stay human. To remain human in the face of everything trying to take that from us. To lead others toward that same freedom."
She met their eyes, unflinching.
"I want to build something real. Something not ruled by power or corruption. That's worth fighting for."
Nemo felt the depth in her voice. It stirred something inside him, but still—he wasn't sure. Was a conviction something so simple? Power? Humanity? Would Solomon dismiss those ideas?
He doubted it.
Conviction wasn't something you inherited. It wasn't logic. It was something primal—personal. It had to come from within.
The other two turned to him.
"What about you?"