Yuma looked around, his body refreshed in his soul's region. The concussion no longer weighed him down, which helped his morale, if only a little. The missing house, however, was harder to ignore. Beneath his feet lay piles of ash, the remains of something completely burned away. It had to be the house he was used to seeing; even when ice had covered it, he had always noticed the soft glow of fire beneath the frost. He searched the region for Serapheria, checking every place he knew. Twenty minutes passed with no sign of her. Just as he was about to give up, familiar arms wrapped around him from behind. He didn't flinch. He only relaxed into her grip.
"I'm sorry, Yuma..." Serapheria softly whispered into his neck.
"Nothing to be sorry about... I wasn't training hard enough. You're only able to do what I could provide," Yuma responded just as softly.
The two said nothing for a long while, holding on to what little comfort they could. Serapheria knew how dangerous the coming days would be, and she clung to Yuma tighter than she seemed to realize. After a while, he turned and hugged her back.
"Sera, I need to get stronger. I'm going to lose everyone... more than what I lost..." He muttered, nearly in tears, to her.
It took everything Yuma had to admit he was scared and alone, but he knew she already understood. Serapheria pulled away and cupped his face in her hands, staring deeply into his eyes. Tears gathered in hers. The sight stunned him. He hadn't thought Ikons could feel emotions so deeply, so at first, he assumed she was only reflecting his own grief back at him.
"I'm so sorry, Yuma... I... had I not brought you here, none of this would've happened," she choked out through her tears.
Yuma froze. He had thought she was feeling his grief, but this was different. This was guilt. She was crying for him, not with him. A part of him knew she was right; she had dragged him into all of this. She could have ignored him and chosen someone better suited for it. And yet, another part of him was grateful she hadn't. He cupped her face, tears slipping free as a broken laugh escaped him instead of a sob.
"Don't be guilty. I'm grateful for you... I was alone, drowning in guilt over my father and brother, and you came to me. You comforted me. With God's permission, you gave me the strength to bring about justice. Serapheria, please don't cry for me... I want you here," Yuma told her through his tears.
For a moment, Serapheria stood completely still. Then more tears slipped down her face, and she pulled him into a tight hug. Yuma didn't need to feel her emotions to know how deeply his words had reached her. He hugged her back just as tightly, neither of them wanting to let go.
Then he felt it.
Power surged through him. His nerves burned cold. His skin warmed beneath an impossible chill. His thoughts sharpened, as if some hidden part of his mind had finally unlocked. When he pulled away and checked his arm, his mark had changed. The vivid snowflake and glittering flame were still there, but now thorned vines curled from them, blooming into the shape of a rose. It wasn't complete, not yet, but the image was vivid enough to stand out against the greater portrait. Serapheria wiped her tears and looked down at it.
"A rose?" she asked more to herself.
Yuma looked at her, worried it was a bad sign, but just before he could ask, she had already answered.
"It's not bad. No design is bad; every conduit's marks manifest differently even if they share the same element." She explained, her voice still unsteady.
"For yours to manifest as a rose, however... truly, it is unique to you. It must have formed from your experiences, or something along those lines," she continued, finally gathering herself with a few small hiccups.
Yuma returned his gaze to the rose, pondering his mark and, in a way, understanding why it formed a rose. Still, he understood that he had no real time to continue thinking about it. Moving his gaze back to Serapheria, he wondered if she knew what their resonance was now.
"I'm curious, do you know what our exact resonance is?" Yuma asked softly
"15.684 percent." She shot back immediately.
Yuma was thrown off by how robotic it felt, like he was inputting a calculation into a robot and getting his answer. Shaking it off, he nodded at her and felt a growing sense of resolve to grow stronger burn in his chest.
"So what can we do now?" Yuma asked.
Serapheria met his resolve with her own. If Yuma was determined to grow stronger, then she was just as determined to make sure he survived. In the same instant, blue flames swallowed her clothes and reshaped them into the armor she had worn when she first taught him swordplay and basic combat.
"For starters, you can push your enhancement further than before, and your weapon should now be at an equal percentage of completion. More importantly, you can conjure weakened, one-time-use weapons," she explained.
She summoned a mace of blue flame. Yuma stared in amazement as she lifted it and slammed it into the ground. The impact carved a small crater into the ash, scattering it into the air. The moment the mace struck, its flames burned out without smoke. Yuma could hardly believe he could do something like that now—or that Akira had never explained it to him. Before he could try it himself, Serapheria appeared in front of him, faint blue flames flickering from her hands. Yuma stumbled back in surprise. She hadn't moved with her usual speed. It looked more like she had glided across the ground.
"This is a new capability of yours now... You can use your flames as propulsion, an effective form of transport." She explained while holding her palm out.
The flame in her palm pulsed instead of burning steadily, each burst stacking explosive force on the last. Serapheria explained how she used those bursts to propel herself forward.
"Of course, for now you're using a weaker form of it, but just like any ability you had before and will have, it will grow as you do." She continued.
Yuma nodded at her demonstrations and explanation and decided he'd give them a shot.
"Could you give me the training gear?" Yuma asked politely.
Serapheria snapped her fingers, and blue flames engulfed Yuma. Once the flames burned out, he was wearing the light armor he had trained with before. Prepared, Yuma held out his hand and tried to conjure a weapon. For a while, he just stood there with his palm out. Serapheria looked at him, confused about what he was attempting to do. She was unsure if he wanted to use his flames or make a weapon.
"Need help?" She offered.
"Actually... yeah... How do I make a weapon?" Yuma asked, a tad confused.
"Imagine any weapon you want, and that's about it..." Serapheria chuckled, shocked that he didn't manage to figure that out.
Taking in her advice, Yuma tried again. His palm held out again, he imagined a gun. Once again, nothing formed in his hand. Turning to Serapheria, his face scrunched up in frustration.
"Why didn't it work?" Yuma asked, an edge of annoyance at himself lacing his tone.
"What did you try conjuring?" She asked, tilting her head.
"A gun," Yuma said instantly.
Serapheria sighed and shook her head.
"Won't work. Projectile-like weapons can't be summoned. It has to be something melee, like a blade, mace, or spear," she explained.
Yuma looked put off by that, but decided it only meant he had chosen the wrong weapon. Closing his eyes once more, he held out his palm again. This time, he imagined a simple knife, focusing on every detail: the handle, the edge, the spine of the blade. Just as he felt the flames' cold burn begin to take shape...
He woke up.