As the plan settles in, my mind starts racing with a thousand thoughts. My gaze shifts to Nikko, who's now bouncing on her toes with excitement, completely trusting in her father's words. She's so young, so full of life, and here she is, ready to protect a cave while the rest of us go off to face gods know what. Then I look over at Talia, who stands strong and determined, her posture unwavering despite the chaos surrounding us. She's so sure, so capable—qualities I've always admired but never felt in myself.

  And then there's Ryu, sitting there with that calm determination, even as he shoulders the burden of leading us through this madness. What if we fail? The thought gnaws at me, and my shoulders tense with the weight of the situation. What if those cloaked figures attack us again while we're left here waiting? The memory of those glowing yellow eyes, the fear that gripped me during the ambush, all of it comes rushing back, making my heart race. How am I supposed to protect Nikko if it comes to that?

  It's all so much to take in, and I can feel the knot of anxiety tightening in my chest. But I can't show it—I can't let them see just how terrified I am. So I nod once more, trying to push the doubts aside, even as they continue to swirl in my mind.

  I take a shaky breath as I watch Ryu observing both sides from that strange projection on his glove. He glances over at me, his gaze direct. "I believe it's high time you learn how to fight," he says, making my stomach twist with nervousness. He calls Apollo over, and I can feel my anxiety spike as Apollo steps forward with a small nod, his tall frame and composed stance making me feel even smaller by comparison. "Apollo will teach you the basics," Ryu continues. "And Nikko, why don't you help her out?"

  "Really?" Nikko's eyes light up, and she bounces with excitement. It's comforting to see her so enthusiastic, even if it makes me feel slightly nervous.

  Apollo leads us over to a makeshift training area he set up by the trees, where a wooden dummy stands with a worn chest plate strapped around its torso. "We will begin with the basics," Apollo says in his smooth, steady voice. His calmness is both reassuring and unnerving, like I'm about to undertake something far more intense than I realize.

  I start clumsily, gripping the knife with fingers that feel stiff and awkward, trying to mimic Apollo's stance as he demonstrates. I can't seem to balance my weight correctly, and my first attempts to strike the dummy are more embarrassing than I'd like to admit. The knife barely scratches the surface, and I'm painfully aware of how Apollo and Nikko are watching me, though neither of them look judgmental.

  Apollo takes a step forward, adjusting my grip and gently repositioning my feet. "Remember, balance is essential," he instructs. "Find your center and stay grounded. Do not lean too far into the strike."

  It takes several tries, and even more instruction from Apollo, for me to feel even remotely comfortable. Nikko, on the other hand, moves with a nimbleness and precision that I can only dream of. When it's her turn to spar with me, she seems almost gleeful, darting in and out with swift movements. Each time I think I'm close to getting a hit, she slips right past me and taps me with the flat side of her knife, her tail flicking with excitement. Her movements make mine look like I'm trudging through mud, and after a few rounds, my frustration starts to mount.

  "Don't worry, you're getting better," Nikko says with a grin, her cheerfulness somehow both encouraging and slightly maddening. "Just keep practicing!"

  And I do. I focus on Apollo's guidance, trying to remember each adjustment he gives me: keep my stance low, don't overextend, use my wrist more, and stay light on my feet. I still don't manage to beat Nikko, but I find myself growing a little more confident. My strikes become less clumsy, my balance more stable. I begin to feel a slight sense of control, like the knife is becoming an extension of my hand rather than a foreign object. It's a small victory, but it's something.

  Hours pass in this strange rhythm—training, a break, then back to training again. Nikko remains patient and supportive, and Apollo's quiet nods of approval encourage me to keep going. I can feel a slight thrill when my strikes actually land with a solid thud against the dummy. It's a small feeling of accomplishment, but one that settles some of the turmoil inside me.

  Eventually, there's nothing left to do but wait. Ryu continues his observation, Talia joins me in a game of cards, and I sit back, taking in the quiet moments. As I shuffle the deck, my mind drifts back to the training session. I'm still no fighter, not yet, but a spark of confidence has settled within me, fragile yet steady.

  ?????

  We prepare for the night, the tension still thick in the air. Ryu, Talia, and Nikko share the same bed as they've done every night since we began traveling together. I unroll my sleeping canvas close to them, seeking the comfort of their presence even if I don't share the same bed. As I lay down, my mind races, replaying everything that has happened and everything that might come. The warmth of the fire flickers across the cave walls, but it does little to ease the cold knot of fear that's settled in my stomach.

  I lie awake, staring at the jagged ceiling of the cave. Night has fully fallen, and the flickering lights of the dying fire cast shadows that dance across the stone. I can hear the soft, rhythmic breathing of Ryu and Talia, and Nikko's gentle purring mixed in. Turning my head slightly, I glance over at them, all nestled together in the dim glow of the fire. Talia is curled up against Ryu's left side, her head resting on his chest with his arm wrapped protectively around her. On his right, Nikko is snuggled up close, her small frame curled up against his other arm.

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  How can they be sleeping so soundly? I wonder. Aren't they just as worried, if not more worried than I am? My mind races with questions and doubts, making it impossible to find any rest.

  Carefully, I slip out from under my blanket and make my way to the cave entrance. Reaching into my pack, I retrieve my flask, its cool metal comforting against my hand. I carefully pull the cork, and the popping sound seems to echo far louder in my head than it actually is. I glance back nervously, but they're all still asleep, undisturbed.

  Lifting the flask to my lips, I take a deep sip, feeling the warmth of the alcohol as it burns its way down my throat. It's a small comfort in this unsettling night. I scan the darkness around me, half expecting IG-22 to appear out of nowhere, but there's no sign of him. Same with Apollo. I feel a pang of sadness—who would have thought I'd miss that golem scaring me?

  I chuckle softly at the thought, but the sound dies in my throat as I hear a voice beside me. "Can't sleep, huh?" Ryu's voice is calm, almost soothing, but it startles me, and I turn quickly to see him standing right next to me.

  "I'm sorry," he says, a hint of regret in his tone. "I didn't mean to startle you."

  I glance back at the bedroll, surprised to see Nikko and Talia still fast asleep. "How did you get here without waking them?" I ask, still puzzled.

  "Moving still and carefully is a trait of mine," Ryu says in a sly tone as he pulls out a pipe from a pocket in his cloak. The pipe is crafted from dark wood, smooth and polished with intricate carvings of what looks like swirling wind patterns along its stem. The bowl is deep, and it looks like it has seen many years of use.

  From a small leather pouch, he retrieves a few pinches of green, ground-up herbs. They have a strong, earthy scent that I can pick up even from where I'm standing. He packs the bowl carefully, then ignites it with a small flame that flickers from the tip of his finger. He takes a slow draw from the pipe, letting out a stream of smoke that drifts lazily into the night air.

  "It's okay to be nervous," he says, his voice gentle but knowing.

  I look at him, puzzled. "How did you...?" I start to ask, but he cuts me off with a soft chuckle.

  He takes another slow draw from his pipe, the glow casting a fleeting light across his shadowed face, though the shroud of his hood keeps his expression unreadable. "My first real fight, I was nervous too," he says, his tone almost casual, as if recalling an old friend. "Not those horrible training droids I had to practice with. I was seven."

  The word catches my attention. "Droids?" I ask, my eyebrows raised in curiosity. "What are droids?"

  Ryu turns to me, tilting his head slightly. "I never told you?" he asks, a trace of surprise in his voice.

  I shake my head.

  He chuckles softly. "I'm sorry. IG-22, for example—he's a droid."

  "Oh." I let that sink in, nodding slowly. "That makes sense now. So, these droids—they're... what exactly?"

  "They're machines, created to serve various purposes. Some are programmed to fight, others to assist. IG-22 was programmed for combat, designed to be precise and lethal." He pauses, taking another puff from his pipe. "And DP-7? Also a droid," he says, a faint note of nostalgia in his tone.

  I blink, the realization settling in. "So, they're like... metal beings, but with specific tasks? A metal warrior, in IG-22's case?"

  "Precisely," he replies, a slight nod affirming my understanding. "IG-22 was built for efficiency. Cold and calculating. But in some strange way, they have their quirks too." He glances over at the cave entrance as if expecting to see IG-22 silently standing guard.

  "And these training droids you mentioned?" I ask, my curiosity piqued further. "Were they like IG-22?"

  Ryu's voice takes on a more reflective tone, his hand tapping lightly on the pipe's edge. "Not quite. They weren't as advanced, and they were painfully repetitive. But they did what they were made to do—drill techniques, condition reflexes." He takes another puff, the ember glowing briefly before fading. "They prepared me for a real fight. Or at least, they tried to."

  I feel a strange comfort hearing this, imagining a young Ryu, barely older than Nikko, fighting off strange metal opponents. "Seven, though?" I say, the disbelief apparent in my tone. "That's so young."

  Ryu gives a small nod, though his posture remains steady. "It was necessary, given my... upbringing."

  I listen, taking another sip from my flask before offering it to him. He declines with a polite hand gesture, so I tuck it back away, focusing on his words.

  "I had to fight this guy three times my size," Ryu continues, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

  "Why?" I ask.

  "Because I was forced to."

  His words hang in the air, and I want to ask more, to delve into that part of his past, but I hold back, sensing that he doesn't want to linger on it. Instead, I nod and listen.

  "I was so terrified," he says, his voice softening. "But my mentor gave me some good advice. Fear is a natural response—it's your body's way of preparing you for what's ahead. It's okay to be afraid. What matters is how you handle that fear."

  His words resonate deeply with me, echoing in my mind as I try to process them. "Aren't you afraid?" I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it.

  Ryu looks up at the sky, which is a vast expanse of stars tonight. The moon is bright, casting a silver light over everything, making the world seem both more beautiful and more ominous. He lets out a long breath, smoke curling from the shadowy void as he speaks. "Always," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

  He taps the end of his pipe against the back of his hand, dislodging the ashes, which fall in a soft cloud at his feet. Then he puts the pipe away, turning back to me. "I wish you a good night."

  As he starts to leave, I find myself asking, "How did the fight go?"

  Ryu pauses, then glances back at me, his expression unreadable. "I lost," he says quietly, the admission carrying a weight of its own. "But I learned from it. That's what really mattered."

  He then turns and makes his way back to the bedroll. I watch as he carefully lies down, and almost immediately, Talia and Nikko cuddle up to him as if they never noticed he was gone. I'm left standing there, my flask now empty, with only my thoughts for company.

  Ryu's words keep turning over in my mind. The idea that even the strong and capable Ryu is afraid somehow makes me feel a little better. But it also makes the reality of what we're facing that much more daunting. I gaze up at the stars, wondering what the next day will bring, and whether I'll be able to find the strength I need to face it.