The warmth of Hoshigawa settled in once the food arrived.
Kaelen sat beside Alzwalt, finally relaxed, eating properly for the first time since… well, a lot had happened. The scent of broth and grilled meat filled the air, calm and grounding in a way battlefields never were.
Asar came by quietly and set a glass of water beside Kaelen.
"Thanks," Kaelen said, nodding.
Asar returned the nod—polite, respectful, disciplined.
That was when Kaelen really noticed it.
Not just Asar.
The kids moving through the restaurant—carrying trays, cleaning tables, helping guests. Their posture was straight. Their breathing controlled. Their steps light but precise.
Circuit flow… stable.
Body conditioning… refined.
Even the youngest among them had solid foundations.
Kaelen's eyes widened slightly.
This place isn't normal…
Kael leaned closer to Alzwalt, lowering his voice.
"Master," he asked,
"do you know the boss?"
Alzwalt didn't even look surprised.
"Yes," he said simply.
"The boss and I are good friends."
Kaelen blinked.
In Kaelen's head, a tired thought drifted through.
Man… everywhere I go, I meet someone strong.
This world is terrifying.
Still—
the food was incredible.
For a brief moment, there were no liches, no sparring gods, no impossible techniques.
Just laughter, quiet conversation, and warmth.
They ate.
And enjoyed it.
LIÒNES FAMILY ESTATE -
The courtyard was alive again.
Stone sigils hummed faintly as Gillian rolled his shoulders, eyes sharp, stance immaculate.
"How do you know about my circuit?" Gillian asked.
John stood opposite him, hands relaxed at his sides.
"Do you really have to ask?" John replied calmly.
"Let's just get on with this."
Gillian laughed.
A genuine laugh.
"…It's been a long time since someone spoke to me like that."
He stepped forward.
And vanished.
The next instant, his fist was already moving—clean, precise, devastating. No wasted motion. No flourish. Pure martial intent.
John tilted his head just enough to let the strike pass.
The air cracked where Gillian's fist had been.
Tessandra watched, tense.
Isis stood beside her, calm—but alert.
Gillian flowed into a second strike, then a third, chaining techniques seamlessly. Each movement carried decades of refinement, guilt, protection, and pride.
John met him.
Not with power.
But with timing.
A parry.
A step.
A redirected blow.
No circuits yet.
Just two men speaking through motion.
The courtyard trembled—not from force, but from precision.
HOSHIGAWA — UPSTAIRS
Arata sat alone in his room.
The city lights glowed beyond the window.
He lifted a teacup, smiled faintly, and set it down.
"So," he murmured,
"Gillian really did ask for a spar… just as I thought."
He chuckled softly.
"I hope John doesn't go overboard."
His smile turned knowing.
"He should remember—he's Tessandra's father."
A pause.
"…If he hurts him beyond repair," Arata added lightly,
"Tess will be upset."
The cup steamed quietly.
Outside, fate continued to move—
exactly where it needed to.