Veil of the forsaken.

"Sei-do's grounds."

As the group started making their way to Sei-do's training grounds, Arlos lingered behind, his sharp eyes scanning the trainees one last time. He gave a slow, approving nod, clearly proud of his work—even if it had been more dramatic than productive.

But just as he turned to follow the others, he noticed Juno wasn't moving with them. She was still standing in place, shifting her weight as if debating whether she should go along.

Arlos didn't hesitate. He pivoted on his heel, stepping back toward her with the same ease he carried in battle—fluid, confident, and completely natural. Without warning, he reached out, gently taking her wrist and tugging her forward.

"Ah, ah, ah, no sneaking away," he chided lightly, his voice warm with amusement. "You did too well back there to disappear on me now."

Juno blinked up at him, caught slightly off guard. "I—uh—"

Arlos didn't let go, but his grip was light, more of a reassuring presence than anything forceful. His usual playful bravado melted into something softer as he tilted his head slightly, studying her.

"Hey," he said, his tone dropping to something quieter, calmer. "I mean it. That was good work. You didn't just help me—you helped them. You have a way of making people want to listen, even when you don't realize it."

Juno's eyes widened just a fraction, the faintest hint of pink dusting her cheeks. She looked away, clearing her throat. "...It wasn't much."

Arlos smiled. "It was enough."

For a second, they just stood there, a quiet understanding passing between them. Then, as if realizing the others were getting ahead, Arlos gave a small chuckle and finally released her wrist, motioning for her to walk with him.

"Come on," he said, resuming his usual lighthearted tone. "Can't have fun without ya, can we?"

Juno nodded, following him this time. Arlos kept his pace easy, but he stayed close, his presence still warm and unwavering.

And though Juno didn't say much, she didn't try to slip away again.

the group made their way toward Sei-do's domain, where the atmosphere was already thick with tension before they even stepped inside.

The moment they entered, they were met with the sound of sharp impacts—wood cracking against bodies, the dull thud of trainees hitting the ground. There were no words of encouragement, no explanations. Just the swift, unforgiving discipline of Sei-do's training katana striking mistakes into submission.

Sei-do stood in the center of the grounds, her stance effortlessly balanced, eyes cold and calculating. She moved with deadly precision, her blade cutting through the air before slamming against an unfortunate recruit's ribs. The poor trainee barely had time to gasp before he hit the dirt, groaning.

"Wrong." That was all she said.

Another swung at her—too slow. Sei-do ducked, sweeping his legs out from under him before driving the wooden blade down onto his shoulder.

"Wrong."

It was ruthless, methodical. The recruits were battered, bruised, but they scrambled back to their feet without protest. They knew better than to complain.

Veil let out a low whistle. "Well, that's one way to teach 'em."

Lady didn't comment, merely observing with quiet intrigue, but Arlos muttered, "This is hard to watch," before glancing over—then stiffening slightly.

Mai-Lee stood a few feet away, partially concealed in the shadows of the training grounds, her arms crossed as she watched Sei-do work. There was something unreadable in her gaze—not quite admiration, not quite disapproval. Just... presence.

Sei-do, for her part, didn't acknowledge her mother. Not once. Not even a glance. She just kept moving, kept correctingevery failure she saw with the snap of her wooden blade, as if Mai-Lee wasn't even there.

The silence between them was heavy.

Veil nudged Arlos. "Think she's gonna say anything?"

Arlos exhaled slowly. "If she was, she already would've."

Juno, sensing the tension but unsure of its depths, shifted awkwardly. "Should we... interrupt?"

Veil smirked. "You wanna be the next one to get smacked?"

Juno quickly shook her head.

Sei-do continued, tireless in her corrections, while Mai-Lee remained behind her, watching. Not interfering. Not helping. Just watching.

The tension in the training grounds hit a boiling point when Mai-Lee, in a sudden and unexpected movement, strode forward. No one saw it coming—not even Sei-do.

With a sharp, practiced swing, Mai-Lee smacked Sei-do across the face with her training katana. The crack of wood against flesh echoed through the air.

Sei-do didn't flinch. She didn't step back. She stood firm, her face snapping to the side under the force of the blow. A low grunt escaped her lips, but she didn't lose her balance, didn't waver. Her crimson red eyes burned with restrained irritation as she slowly turned her head back, the red mark blooming across her cheek the only evidence of the strike.

"YOU MISSED IT!" Mai-Lee's voice rang out, sharp and cutting, as if scolding a careless child. Her tone was filled with equal parts fury and disappointment. She pointed at one of the trainees, who was still catching his breath from a particularly brutal session. "His footwork was off, his guard was too high, and you—" she jabbed the katana toward Sei-do, "—you let it slide! Are you losing your edge, Sei-do?"

The recruits froze in place, their battered forms trembling under the weight of Mai-Lee's fury. Even Veil and Arlos exchanged wide-eyed glances, uncertain if they should intervene—or if this was simply a mother-daughter ritual they were better off ignoring.

Sei-do's lips pressed into a thin line, her hands tightening around her katana. "I didn't miss it," she said evenly, her voice calm, almost cold, despite the faint flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck. "I was giving him a chance to correct it himself."

Mai-Lee narrowed her eyes, taking a step closer. "Excuses. You don't give chances in a fight, Sei-do. You don't wait for them to figure it out. You fix it. Now."

Sei-do didn't respond, but the simmering tension between them was palpable. Her jaw clenched, and for a moment, it seemed like she might snap back. But she didn't.

Mai-Lee turned away sharply, her gaze sweeping over the recruits. "You're all pathetic!" she barked. "If you want to survive out there, you'd better hope your enemies are as generous as she is. Spoiler alert—they won't be!"

Veil, leaning against a post, smirked and whispered to Arlos, "Family bonding at its finest."

Arlos shot her a warning look, but even he couldn't suppress the faint smile tugging at his lips.

Lady, as composed as ever, broke the silence with her measured tone. "Shall we let them handle this, or do you want to step in, Veil?"

Veil shook her head. "Nah, I'm not getting in the middle of that. But I'm definitely enjoying the show."

Sei-do, meanwhile, adjusted her stance, her expression smoothing back into its usual mask of calm control. Without a word, she turned back to the trainees, her movements sharper, more deliberate, as if to prove Mai-Lee wrong through sheer perfection.

Mai-Lee stayed close, watching her every move like a hawk, ready to pounce on the next mistake. The air was thick with an unspoken challenge, and even the recruits seemed to feel it, their own training growing more intense as they scrambled to avoid becoming the next target of Mai-Lee's wrath.

End of part.