The boy eyed Clark with a quiet curiosity, his stance still guarded beneath the air of nobility that surrounded him. He sheathed his blade with a crisp motion before speaking, "I'm Lucien."
The girl, still calm and composed, watched Clark with her piercing blue eyes. There was something unreadable in her gaze—not distrust, but not openness either. Finally, she lowered her sword and gave a nod.
"Elizabeth," she said simply.
Clark nodded back. "Nice work, both of you."
He looked down at the unconscious bandits sprawled across the forest floor. "They won't be a problem anymore."
Lucien smirked faintly. "They never were."
Elizabeth turned her attention to the forest path behind them. "We should move. There may be more."
Lucien agreed and began walking beside her.
Clark stayed still for a moment.
A part of him wanted to walk away—to return to his hidden spot, to resume training alone in silence. Yet, another part was curious. These two weren't ordinary. Their swordplay, posture, even the way they sensed and watched him—there was precision, restraint… and experience.
Without a word, he quietly followed them from a short distance.
Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder once, acknowledging him with a single nod.
But no more than that.
The three of them moved through the forest—Clark trailing behind, always five steps away. They didn't speak, and neither did he.
That was fine.
He wasn't looking for friends.
He had a goal.
"My abilities… my path… I need to reclaim it all. I can't afford distractions."
As they neared the forest's edge, the lights of Valenzuela City shimmered in the distance, soft and warm against the encroaching night.
Elizabeth and Lucien stopped at the edge of the road.
"We go west from here," Lucien said, glancing at Clark for a brief moment. "You?"
Clark gave a short nod toward the opposite direction. "East."
Neither of them pressed further. No questions. No assumptions.
Just a silent understanding.
Elizabeth looked at him one last time, her eyes unreadable beneath the quiet twilight.
"Be careful out there," she said, before turning away and disappearing into the darkness with Lucien.
Clark stood alone, watching them go.
"Elizabeth… and Lucien."
He whispered their names, filing them away like two puzzle pieces he didn't yet understand.
The night air was cooler now.
He glanced at the stars above—the same stars he once looked up to in another world.
His grip tightened.
"Tomorrow… I'll go further."
And with that, he walked home through the trees—silent, focused, and burning with quiet resolve.
The air was sharp that morning.
Clark stood in the same clearing he'd quietly claimed over the past few weeks—a hidden glade between thick ferns and towering trees, concealed well enough that even sharp eyes wouldn't catch him unless they knew exactly where to look.
He stood barefoot on the mossy earth, eyes shut.
His breath flowed in and out, slow and controlled.
"Sonido."
The technique, once a refined extension of his will and instinct, now sputtered with inefficiency. No matter how he concentrated, his movements were clumsy compared to the fluid, almost supernatural speed he remembered. It was frustrating—but expected.
With a low exhale, he tightened his muscles and vanished with a faint shhhft—a short burst of speed cracking the air around him. He reappeared a few meters forward, stumbling slightly.
Still not perfect. But better than yesterday.
He clenched his fist.
"I'll get it back… every single one."
He turned inward, slowing his heartbeat. He allowed his senses to stretch outward—feeling for motion, tremors, wind patterns.
This was his Extrasensory Perception. The art of feeling the world without relying on the senses of the body.
At first, all he felt was silence. Then…
A flicker. A pulse of movement. A squirrel shifting its weight on a branch thirty feet behind him.
"There."
His eyes snapped open.
Then… there was the hardest of them all—Red Demon Eyes.
He closed his eyes once more. He could feel them inside—sealed, but not gone. That crimson power, once capable of analyzing movement and energy, was slumbering.
He gritted his teeth.
"Draw it out. Don't force it. Feel it."
A faint, dull pressure throbbed in his eyes. Not pain… but awakening.
When he opened them again, nothing had changed—but he knew. The ember stirred. Soon, the red would return.
Clark exhaled and fell to a knee, sweat glistening on his brow.
"One step at a time."
He looked up. The sun was higher now.
He'd been training for hours.
Still… he smiled faintly. This world's energy, though foreign, was growing more familiar. The Eidra that existed all around him—it buzzed differently from what he knew, but it was still energy. Still power. Still something he could learn to use, if he was patient enough.
"They think I'm a kid."
He stood slowly, brushing dirt from his palms.
"That's fine."
"Let them think that."
Later that evening, Clark walked through the quiet village path, his shirt slightly torn, his hair messy with leaves. He moved casually, as if he had been playing in the fields with other kids. A faint smile crept onto his face as he saw the old cottage where he and his father lived.
Inside, the light was still on.
Jordan was home.
"Welcome back, Clark," his father said from the small kitchen, not looking up from the bowl he was mixing.
Clark bowed his head slightly. "Thanks, Dad."
Jordan glanced at him after a moment. His eyes lingered a second longer than usual.
"You've got some dirt on your collar. Got into trouble?"
Clark tensed slightly—just for a moment. Then he laughed.
"Chased by a chicken."
Jordan snorted. "Chickens these days are something else."
The two of them ate together in calm silence, the warmth of the house shielding them from the chill of the mountain wind outside.
As Clark helped clean the dishes, Jordan spoke again, quieter now.
Chapter Ends.