Practice

As they walked to the second floor, Asher asked a question that had been on his mind for a while.

"So Philip, what grade's your Captain?"

At the mention of Salvador, Philip perked up.

"Master is a special case. He's a veteran of the Smoke War, before grades even existed. Back then, he was the 'Assault Operations Director' for the Royal Wings, equal to nowaday's Grade 1."

Asher's jaw dropped noticeably.

"S-Salvador is Grade 1? Shouldn't he be able to take Urban Nightmares easily then? And what is the Smoke War?"

"Master has gotten older over the years. The Smoke War was just before either of us were born, before the Head united the Wings under the Sections..."

They stopped for a second as Philip gathered his thoughts.

"It was a few years ago, just after I joined. His demotion, I mean. Master himself requested the Hana Association to demote him down to Grade 4, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to keep up with all their requests. Now our Office's second in command, Yuna, will soon be promoted to Grade 4 too."

The exact capability of Dawn Office shocked Asher. He expected that they might have a few Grade 5's, nothing more. Recalling the words Finn said about Yan when they first met, even a Messenger was only the equivalent of Grade 5.

As Asher was calculating grades and power in his mind, they reached the training room on the second floor.

"Alright, we're here." The glass doors slid aside automatically. The gym had every imaginable exercise equipment, from weight machines to yoga mats. Asher noted that the weights ranged from a few hundred pounds to dozens of tons, completely inaccessible to ordinary people.

A section in the middle of the room was roped off as a designated sparring zone, and was like the assessment room in the Hana Association branch headquarters. Next to the ring was a small assortment of weapons.

There was no one else in the room other than them.

"I know I probably sounded really selfish... You don't have to do this if you don't want to." Philip's voice was filled with regret. The boy was reasonably sure that this was not what Salvador meant when he told him to make friends.

"It's fine. Why would that be selfish?" Asher already stepped past the arena boundary. Just like Philip, he also wanted to see the capabilities of someone in his own grade.

"Well, I searched for your profile in the Hana app, so... I mean, won't you be at a disadvantage? Aren't you an assassin?"

Philip lowered his head, blaming his impulsiveness. He opened his mouth to apologize again, but was interrupted by a tug on his sleeve.

"Come on, do you want to spar or not? I'm decent at one-on-one combat, so don't worry." Asher reassured Philip, pulling him toward the rack of weapons at the side.

However, the boy was right. Most of his own skills, including the [Echoes from Beyond] he got last mission, should never be used in a friendly spar.

Still, Asher wished to see how his [Puppet Movements] would fare against someone in his own grade.

"...Thanks, Sophie. Um, grab a weapon you want from here. They're all dulled for sparring purposes."

Asher's gaze turned toward the rack in front of him. Seeing such an array of weapons, he couldn't decide which one to pick. He was inclined to choose a sword, like the extendable knife Yun gave him, but he wanted to try something new when he still had the chance.

'Hey, Sophie. Anything catch your eye?' It's been a while since he talked to the soul inside him. Ever since he fully synchronized with Sophie, he could feel her desires and will clearly.

Now he felt an uncomfortable ache in his heart as he reached for the swords on the rack.

Perhaps she wanted to try something new, or perhaps she never enjoyed using Yun's shortsword in the first place.

Asher's hands moved on their own, clamping down on a pair of short blades. Each of the knives was feather light and shorter than a foot in length. Asher absentmindedly flipped the knives in his grip, studying their shape and size.

Philip settled on a claymore, which he seemed to regard with honor as he ran his finger past its dull edge.

He put his hands up as Asher looked at him quizzically, seeking to explain himself.

"A-All the weapons here are replicas of our Office's Stigma Workshop equipment. So this sword is... yeah. A replica of Maste- of mine! A-A replica of mine, I mean."

Asher rolled his eyes, but didn't press further.

They both stepped into the ring, assuming their positions at the opposite sides.

"Ready?" Philip raised his sword into a neutral stance, his sword gripped with both hands and slightly tilted forward.

"Nn." He shifted to a crouching position, a knife in each of his hands. As Sophie relinquished control of his body, Asher felt like she was guiding his stance. The weight of the knives felt natural to him, like he had years of experience with them.

He didn't forget to activate [Puppet Movements], bending down further as his spine curved with unnatural tension.

The two stared at each other, waiting for someone to make the first move.

"-Hap!" Philip thrust forward without warning, sliding twenty feet across the ring in a blink of an eye.

Just before the tip of the blade pierced his eyes, Asher twisted his head sideways and deflected the sword with a light flick of his wrist. Because of the increased leverage he had, Philip was thrown off balance as he went careening to the side.

Before Asher could take advantage of the situation, Philip dug his heel into the ground, using the extra momentum he had to pivot his sword into a vicious downward cleave, using all the strength in his body.

*CLANG*

Asher leaned forward to parry, catching the claymore with his knives crossed against each other. The strength in his thin, pale arms couldn't be compared to the strength of the other Fixer; his arms trembled as Philip leaned forward, quickly overpowering him.

Before he collapsed, he slipped one of the knives out of the clash. At the same time, he shifted the weight of his body onto a single leg.

As one arm held back Philip's assault, the other sliced straight towards the boy's side.

As one leg shook under the pressure, the other swept at Philip's calf for a scathing low kick.

Facing such a barrage of attacks, even Philip couldn't handle it without consequences. They pulled away, both panting slightly from the brief exchange.

They locked eyes with each other, grinning at how unexpectedly fun sparring with each other was.

Philip's eyes widened as Asher suddenly flung one of his knives at him. Still, he could easily deflect it with the broad blade.

Asher tried to throw his other knife as Philip was distracted, but an uncomfortable burning sensation slowly bubbled from his fingers.

It was his skill, [Fourth Match Flame]. Asher forgot to lower its intensity from last time. The weapon in his grip glowed white hot, searing his hand as he frantically sought a way to release its energy.

In the back of his mind, he noticed Philip drop the claymore in his hands, preparing to dodge with all his might. His eyes were shaky; he didn't know whether what Asher was doing was still in the boundaries of a spar.

'System! Sophie! Turn it off, turn it off!' The palm of his hands smoldered with black smoke as the glow slowly abated.

He tore his grip off of the knife, his grafted flesh ripping off with it. He shuddered as the surrounding air pierced his exposed bones.

In his haze of pain, Asher noticed Philip approaching him with concern.

"W-We can stop now! I'm sorry... I didn't know how much you needed to hold back! The backlash for bottling up that energy is terrible..."

Philip believed that the reason Asher was injured was because he didn't unleash his ability, but that was the complete opposite case. If Asher had used its full power, his injuries wouldn't be limited to a simple flesh wound.

"Ugh... No, it's not your fault. Get me a roll of bandages or something." As Philip ran off, Asher gazed at the bones in his hand.

He came up with a great idea. There was one of Sophie's skills that he had never used before...

'[Nostalgic Room]'

Asher felt a tug from the pit of his stomach. It felt like he was being sucked into a whirlpool of darkness, and he had to remind himself that this was all a hallucination.

He popped out of the darkness, eyes dazed at the interior of the elusive 'Room'.

It was just like he remembered. The warmth of the fireplace. The tablecloth. The feast laid in front of her.

Sophie sobbed as she basked in the warmth of her childhood yet again. It wasn't like the Hana's recreated memories at all, this was the real deal. Everything about it, from the smell of pine to the warmth of the wooden floor on her skin, was nothing like the M Corp's copy.

Asher tried to stand up, but the influx of Sophie's emotions forcefully paralyzed his limbs. He lied there, quivering as involuntary tears pooled onto the floor. He could technically force her to stop, courtesy of his complete synchronization, but he didn't feel like doing that. Sophie was human to him, regardless of what the System tried to say.

She had the right to express herself, especially in moments like these. By giving moments of freedom to the other soul in his body, she would allow him more leeway in his actions in real life.

...

Philip had waited for dozens of minutes now.

The girl lying on the floor beside him didn't wake up, no matter what he did. She seemed to weep from the pain of her wound. His heart wrenched each time a tear forced its way past her eyelids.

Her arm was snugly wrapped in bandages.

Yuna shook her head in disappointment by his side. Philip had called Salvador and her in a panic, interrupting their meeting.

"Hoho, young Philip, did you... Sophie did this to herself? Our Stigma Workshop equipment wouldn't have been used in a simple spar..." Salvador seemed to be disappointed at Philip despite his reassuring tone.

The Captain pulled out his phone, looking at the camera footage of the training room.

"Y-Yes, Master. That knife," he pointed to it carefully, "heated up like crazy. Sophie tried to stop herself but ended up hurting herself with the backlash. I'm sorry Master. It must have been one of her augments."

The three of them looked down as Sophie's eyelashes quivered, shaking the tears away from her eyes.

"I told you already. Don't be sorry, okay?" The girl's eyes opened as she pushed herself upright.

Before any of them could say a word, she scraped the bandages off herself, revealing a perfectly functioning hand.

"S-Sophie? How??" Philip yelped, his relief overpowered by the strangeness of the situation. She wasn't conscious at all, how could she have used her modifications? Were there even any that could synthesize flesh so quickly?

Salvador pocketed his phone, finished with examining the security footage.

"Hm... Dear Sophie, do you mind coming with me for a second? Alone." Salvador's usually relaxed, senile demeanor disappeared.

Unlike Philip and Yuna, who were too inexperienced for such matters, he had explored the Ruins back in his glory days. A mission, to retrieve an artifact for the Royal Wings.

And this girl's appearance reminded him of some ...thing... he had met there.

Swirling eyes of blood and piercing, mournful wails.

Drizzling sorrow wreathed in flames...

Of course, the girl in front of him looked nothing like that, but her clothes matched perfectly.

He couldn't let the possibility slip from his fingers. He had to confirm with his own eyes.

Yuna gulped. She had never seen her Captain like this.

Even in all the funerals of the Fixers who sacrificed their lives to the Dawn Office, he still smiled genially, detached from guilt, anger, or sadness.

She had long since chalked it to his old age, but her blood ran cold at Salvador's gaze. She was more than capable of detecting the murderous intent in his eyes.

Then it disappeared.

Sophie nodded her head meekly, reading the tense atmosphere.

The corners of Salvador's mouth curled upward. His eyes twinkled with the same light as always.

"Hoho~ Come with me then, dear."

Yuna wondered if she had simply hallucinated. Perhaps the stress from the Thousand Needles was affecting her, she decided.