Henry watched Ganriki swagger away, the boy's casual mockery another small weight added to the mountain already on his shoulders. The sadness in his voice was plain.
Helia's golden eyes softened for a fraction of a second. "You should just take it all," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "Absorb their taunts, their doubts, their underestimations. Let it fuel you. And then, when the time is right, show them all that they are wrong."
Her words, surprisingly pragmatic, struck a chord in Henry. He nodded, a flicker of resolve cutting through his melancholy. They returned to the Solstice Tower in silence. Once inside, Henry didn't wait. He had to try again. He had to face his other self.
He sat on the bed, closed his eyes, and focused his will inward, diving past the veil of the physical world.
He was back in the void. Before him, the spectral form of Joseph battled valiantly, his light-sword clashing against the dark katana of Night-Henry. The entity of Light-Henry was there too, darting in and out, a flickering annoyance to his dark counterpart. This time, however, he was not just a spectator. He had a weapon.
Focusing all his will, Light-Henry gathered his essence. A small, compressed ball of pure, white light formed in his hands. It was the most stable thing he had ever created. He hurled it. It struck Night-Henry in the shoulder, and for the first time, his dark self recoiled with a hiss of genuine pain, a wisp of smoke rising from the point of impact.
Night-Henry looked at the fading burn mark, then at his light-form, a look of surprised irritation on his face. "Oh," he said. "So you found a weak way to do it."
Light-Henry felt a surge of defiance. "Y-yeah! Doesn't m-matter if it's weak if it works!"
A dark laugh escaped his counterpart's lips. "You should listen to what you are saying. You will never be like me." He extended his hand, and the very shadow beneath Light-Henry shot upwards, impossibly fast, coalescing into a sharp spike that impaled him. "Stop wasting my time," Dark-Henry said with cold dismissal, turning his full attention back to Joseph.
The psychic wound ripped through Henry's consciousness. His eyes flew open and he lurched forward, coughing up a spray of dark blood onto his bedsheets.
"Henry!" Helia was at his side in an instant, a warm hand on his back. "Are you okay?"
He nodded, wiping his mouth, the coppery taste of failure and blood filling his senses. "He's still too strong," he gasped. "I couldn't see his shadow. It was too fast."
"But you hurt him," Helia stated, her voice filled with a quiet intensity. "You landed a blow. Don't worry about the gap between you. You are showing progress. That's all that matters."
"Oh, did you think you could beat him with just that?" a silky voice purred.
Tsukuyomi materialized on the bed, lounging beside Henry as if she owned the place. "Cute." She leaned in and planted a soft, cold kiss on his cheek. Henry's face immediately flushed red.
"I should have just eaten you in that cave," she sighed dramatically, tracing a line on his cheek with a cool finger. "If only I knew Ms. Boring Sun was going to be such a pain in the ass..." Her face took on a predatory blush, and she licked her lips slowly, her eyes raking over him. "Then again..."
"That is enough." Helia's voice was like ice. She swatted Tsukuyomi's hand away from Henry's face. "You only appear to be annoying."
Tsukuyomi laughed. "Oh, that's the only fun I have, sis."
"And don't touch him in my presence," Helia warned, her eyes flashing. "You always said you would never deign to touch a mere human."
Tsukuyomi's smirk was triumphant. She had her. "I could have changed in all those years," she said sweetly. "And besides, I don't consider my dear Henry a human. He's my human. There's a difference."
"Shut up," Helia snapped, her composure finally breaking.
The night came. The change took hold. But the usual taunts and provocations from Night-Henry never came. He simply rose, walked to a corner of the room, and sat in silent, unnerving contemplation, a predator conserving its energy. The war had changed. It was no longer a game to him. It was a race for power.