One hour and twenty-seven minutes later…
The footsteps echoed on the worn wooden floor, cutting through the silence of the room. Lorian entered, making her way towards Stray, who was sitting on the worn-out couch. Her steps were confident, though her face betrayed a mix of concern and anxiety. The fresh air she brought with her contrasted sharply with the stifling atmosphere inside.
Here's the improved version with added details to enhance the atmosphere and psychological tension:
Stray: "… Heh, what a visit."
The sound of his chuckle echoed through the room, but the laughter felt hollow, as if he were masking something deeper. His eyes never left Lorian, but there was a subtle, almost imperceptible twitch in his jaw.
Lorian: "Stop the nonsense. Is he alright?"
Her voice was sharp, filled with urgency, but underneath it was a quiet tremor of fear. She took a step closer to Nott, her gaze lingering on him before returning to Stray, her posture rigid and tense.
Stray: "… Hmm... Yeah, he isn't badly hurt…"
He paused for a brief moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to gauge her reaction. The room felt colder now, the silence pressing in as he spoke, but his tone lacked any true remorse.
Lorian looks to the other couch and sees Nott's body covered in bruises. She quickly approaches and checks his breathing, realizing he's just asleep.
Lorian, shouting: "I told you not to overdo his training! Do you want him to die by my hands!!?"
Her voice echoed in the room, sharp and raw, the tension in her chest palpable as she clenched her fists.
Stray: "I didn't accept him as my trainee yet. This was just to satisfy my curiosity and my desire to fight him after that match in the trial."
His tone was casual, but his eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of something darker behind his words.
Lorian: "I thought you'd already satisfied your obsession today when you killed that person in your office."
She stepped closer, her words laced with bitterness, her eyes flashing with a mix of disbelief and anger.
Stray: "Heh, heh heh, sorry, I knew it was someone else's doing, but I wanted an excuse to fight him.
Have you figured out who sent him?"
A low chuckle escaped him, like a predator savoring a meal, but his expression quickly shifted to one of mild curiosity.
Lorian, Sighs: "… Don't worry about it. As for the boy, I'll bring a doctor to treat him."
Her voice softened, but there was an underlying tension in her tone... resignation, yet determination.
Stray: "No, you won't bring anything."
He said it flatly, almost as if issuing a command. His gaze was cold, unyielding, the room growing heavier in his presence.
These additions create more emotional depth and atmosphere between the characters.
Lorian, pausing for a moment: "Excuse me?"
Stray slowly stands up and fixes his gaze on Lorian, standing across from her, his face showing a mix of determination.
Stray: "I was wondering about his arrogance and pride. You won't coddle him anymore. He needs to learn how to handle injuries and wounds on his own."
His words hang in the air, calm and unwavering, as he watches her reaction, a hint of something unspoken in his gaze.
Lorian: "He's twelve! Do you really want him to take care of himself like this?"
Her voice was a mix of concern and disbelief. The room feels heavy with the weight of her protective instincts.
Stray: "I've lived this way a thousand times since the moment I was born… If he wants to be stronger, he has to follow my way."
His voice is colder now, almost distant, as though he's speaking from a place deep inside, where emotions have long been buried.
Lorian falls silent for a moment, her eyes focusing on Nott, who was lying on the couch.
The silence stretches, the only sound being the faint hum of the room. Her gaze softens as she watches him, her worry clear but hidden behind a facade of resolve.
Lorian, sighing deeply: "Fine, but if he's not fully recovered in five days, I'll cancel the amount we agreed on."
Her words feel reluctant, There's a quiet determination in her voice now, but also a sense of frustration.
Stray: "Heh heh, alright, this is fine. Whoever, I didn't agree for the money, and you know what I mean."
His chuckle is dry, almost mocking, but there's something softer beneath it. He lets his words linger, his eyes drifting back to Nott.
Stray and Lorian stood near a dim corner, the faint light from a flickering ceiling bulb barely pushing back the shadows.
Stray reached into the pocket of his long coat and pulled out a dull metallic cigarette case. He flipped it open with a practiced thumb,
took one out, and placed it between his lips.
Stray, in a low tone, as if speaking from behind smoke not yet lit: "What about the council meeting… did it go well?"
A thick silence settled over the room, as if the question itself had brushed against something that shouldn't be touched.
Lorian didn't answer right away. She turned her head slightly, casting a quick glance toward the old couch in the corner of the basement.
Not was still lying there, his face half-buried in the pillow, his breaths calm, like a stranger asleep from another time.
Then she turned her gaze forward, to the wall.
Lorian, softly, her voice weighted with fatigue: "…We're not talking about that here."
She said it, then released a long, slow sigh... as if she were emptying something out from deep within her chest.
Stray didn't respond. He simply raised his old metal lighter, and quietly lit the tip of the cigarette.
A faint spark.
A small flame.
Then silence again.
Lorian: "I'm leaving now."
She turns away, the finality in her tone unmistakable, yet her footsteps falter for a moment.
Stray: "Hmm? Leaving so soon? We haven't sat down to have tea together yet."
His words are teasing, but there's a slight curve to his lips, a flicker of something behind his eyes... something unexpected, something like invitation, but unspoken.
This version includes more subtle pauses and nuances to the characters' emotions, adding to the depth and tension of the scene
Her footsteps echoing against the concrete floor as she walked out.
The only sound left behind was the soft scrape of her shoes against the dust and gravel.
Stray remained still, a thin cloud of smoke drifting from his lips, his eyes fixed on nothing... as if the unspoken answer… had said enough.
Lorian gestures with her hand, raising her middle finger as she walks out. Stray laughs lightly, remaining standing as he watches Nott. Stray recalls the moment when he was about to remove the Eyes-patch from Him, and how Nott stopped him then.
Stray: "Heh… I'll respect that."
The next day.
Nott wakes up to find himself lying on the couch, his body in extreme pain, covered in old white cloths and ice on his chest and back, with a piece of cloth on his head. He slowly sits up.
Nott: "… Ugh... Damn, what's this!?"
Stray is standing by the coffee machine, approaching Nott. The room is dimly lit, the smell of coffee mixing faintly with the sterile scent of dried blood.
Stray: "Oh... Good morning, lazy. Are you really planning to participate in the Noctis test like this?"
His tone is mocking, but there's a sliver of concern buried beneath the sarcasm.
Nott: "What's this stuff you wrapped around me?"
He shifts uncomfortably on the couch, squinting at the makeshift bandages.
Stray: "Hmm? What? … It's sterilized cloth. I cleaned the wounds to stop the bleeding.
Also, I set the broken bones and applied ice to reduce swelling... A medical solution will do if you don't have disinfectant.
You should know all this if you want to survive. Do you want to wait for a medical team, or maybe have Utris treat you, or someone else...? Don't rely on others; they won't be able to take care of themselves."
Stray speaks in a calm, instructional tone, his right hand casually in his pockets, as if he were explaining how to make tea instead of treating injuries.
Nott: "Yeah, yeah. Anyway, is this supposed to be cloth? It looks like a torn garbage bag..."
He winces as he touches the wrappings, clearly unimpressed with Stray's field medic skills.
Stray: "Oh, sorry, Princess. Would you prefer something softer? Stop being dramatic, and act like a man."
He sipping his coffee, the cup steaming like the heat of his words.
Stray: "You won't find those fine fabrics you're used to in Noctis when you're in a real battle."
His tone was sarcastic as usual, eyes drifting over the bandages wrapped around Nott's body.
Nott frowned, clear signs of gloom shadowing his face, while Stray sat on the opposite couch sipping his coffee. He then placed another cup on the table in front of him.
Stray: "Alright, drink this and let's begin your first training."
He gestured toward the cup as if there was no room for delay.
Nott took the cup, but suddenly, in a puzzling moment, he spoke in a sharp voice... as if something exploded inside him. As if something had been dormant inside him… lifeless, unseen, untouched... yet undeniably present.
And now, after all he had been through, after every wound suppressed and left to fester… that thing began to stir, stretching quietly, as if rising from beneath the rubble... not in haste, but like one who knows their moment has come.
The anger in his voice wasn't just a reaction… it was an old voice, one that Nott had forgotten he even had.
Nott: "Don't call me those names again."
His tone was unexpectedly firm, filled with bottled-up seriousness and anger.
Stray froze for a second, as if the words had stunned him.
Stray: "...What?"
He stared at him, puzzled, as though Nott had spoken an unfamiliar language.
Nott: "Those damn names... Don't call me that!"
His voice trembled slightly, but he stood his ground.
Stray: "Uh… oh… it was just a joke, kid. Don't let it get to you... [Damn… this kid has one hell of an inferiority complex…]"
Nott, sighing as he set the cup aside: "...Do you have cocoa? I don't drink coffee."
He said it softly, as if the request itself was an attempt to ease the tension.
Stray: "Cocoa…?"
He raised an eyebrow, then added with a tone mixed between threat and teasing.
Stray: "You little brat, shut it or I'll call you that damn title again!"
The days flowed like water between the fingers, followed by weeks, then months.
Nott found himself caught in a whirlwind of harsh, intense training.
The schedule became strict, and the effort relentless.
Every week, he faced Stray... his unyielding opponent.
Their battles weren't merely tests of physical strength, but trials of will and resolve.
Each time, Nott discovered new limits to his capabilities… and surpassed others he once thought were the end of the line.
The training was no longer confined to the basement, now all too familiar with its damp walls and hard floor... it had extended into the city's streets. There, in the crumbling arenas of street wrestling, Nott faced opponents of all kinds, each with their own fighting style and unique skills. Their participation in the wrestling league wasn't just an opportunity to test his abilities... it was a ground for sharpening them, a crucible for refining his strategies.
At first, defeat clung to him. The other fighters overpowered him with ease, and his body absorbed the blows like a canvas marked by every mistake he made. But something changed. With every fight, Nott learned something new: how to read his opponent, how to dodge fatal blows, how to exploit weaknesses. His falls were frequent in the beginning, but every fall was followed by a stronger rise.
With time, Nott was no longer a mere novice. His presence in the ring began to unsettle his opponents, and his confidence grew with every victory. Gradually, his encounters with Stray shifted... from harsh blows and stern instructions to balanced fights that mirrored a clash between a mentor and a student who had begun to transcend his limits.
Over a year and eight months, Stray took Nott on an exhaustive tour across every wrestling, combat, dueling, and shooting arena in Raymar. That period became a constant trial, with Nott placed before increasingly difficult challenges. He faced Stray in a total of 86 matches, losing every single one decisively.
But those losses were not mere failures... they were harsh lessons that formed the foundation of his growth. Each defeat was a chance to uncover a flaw, and each match was another stone laid in the building of his skill and resolve.
Four days later, at the 87th match:
Raymar – August 21, 2017. In a beginner-level street combat tournament.
Nott stood alert at the center of the ring, slightly taller and larger than before, dressed in simple clothes, his body covered with bruises and scars.
Across from him stood Stray, staring at him, wearing casual clothes without his heavy gear.
The arena was shaped like a giant cage in the middle of the hall, with loud, eager fans filling the surrounding stands.
About four meters high, a woman stood on a narrow iron platform attached to the central wall. A black microphone in hand, her face lit up under the glare of the spotlights... like a star on stage.
Referee, with fiery excitement: "Here we go! Are you ready?! Are you excited?!"
The crowd erupted. Cheers, whistles, screams of thrill, the pounding of feet... the entire cage trembled in place.
Referee, raising her voice: "The final match of the Beginner Street League is about to begin!!"
The noise escalated. Voices merged into one massive wave of sound.
Referee, looking up at the ceiling camera: "[They've made this league more popular than ever…
It used to barely attract twenty viewers…
But now? Over 4,996 are watching the livestream!!]"
In the stands, among the hundreds of fans, a heated exchange unfolded:
Spectator 1, with nervous excitement: "Stray has to win! I bet everything I have on him!!"
Spectator 2, shaking his head: "Are you stupid? Don't you know that kid? He crushed every other fighter. His last match with Stray was insane!"
Spectator 3, smirking: "Heh, they've fought plenty of times… And Stray won every single one."
In the center of the ring, under the harsh white light, Stray stood tall.
Stray stood firm, his eyes fixed only on Nott, eagerly anticipating the start of the match, his gaze was blazing. He cracked his knuckles slowly... deliberately. The sound echoed faintly in the steel cage that surrounded them like a looming beast with no way out.
Sweat glistened on his brow, not from fear, but from anticipation.
Stray, grinning wide: "Oi… Kid, I feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins!!
Don't disappoint me, alright?!"
Nott didn't move. Didn't blink. His eyes were cold... unshaken. He stood perfectly still in the center of the ring, as if he'd been waiting for this moment all his life.
Nott, quietly, like a whisper laced with venom: "Enjoy your racing heartbeat… Because it won't last long."
A hush fell.
The crowd was roaring... but inside the cage, time seemed to pause.
Above them, the referee stood tall on the platform, microphone in hand, voice booming like thunder across the hall.
Referee, with electric energy: "The rules of this match… are simple."
A heartbeat passed.
Referee: "Leaving the ring... forbidden!
Killing... forbidden!
But everything else… Everything else inside this cage… is allowed!!!"
The crowd exploded with noise... shouting, stomping, screaming names.
Yet Nott and Stray heard none of it.
In their minds, there was only one sound now; The silence… before a storm.
Referee, raising a fist: "One!... Two!!... THREE!!!"
Referee, screaming: "BEGIN!!!"
In that instant, faster than a thought...
a faint red flicker flashed in the air.
Like a spark of anger... or blood.
Then... shing!... a dagger suddenly appeared in Nott's hand, its metal glinting under the cage lights…
as if it had been plucked from the air itself.
Three months ago.
Nott sat on the couch, holding a book in his left hand. Stray approached and handed him a cup of juice.
Stray: "You're reading even when you're off from school... What a bookworm."
Nott: "This isn't a schoolbook, you fool... School textbooks are pathetic. They're deliberately designed to limit your learning, suppress your creativity, and restrict your thinking. They want you to be the perfect model student."
He paused briefly, his eyes still on the book.
Nott: "School... is an institution where we were promised knowledge, yet it often becomes a slow prison for both minds and hearts. On the surface, it's built to teach you what you don't know, but in truth, it's a lifeless machine meant to produce identical generations... fed more on rote learning than understanding, and more on obedience than innovation.
Every day, it serves us spoonfuls of mummified knowledge... knowledge that doesn't touch life, that dies the moment we step outside the school gates, leaving us with nothing but emptiness."
Stray raised an eyebrow, but Nott continued, calm and resolute.
Nott: "A system that dictates what you read and what you think... as if constantly trying to tame your mind, shaping you into what they want, not what you want."
Assignments never end, lessons never stop. It's as if time is your enemy, stolen from you without notice. No space for questioning, no room for innovation. Step off their script, and you'll be cast aside, treated like an anomaly."
He paused for a moment, then continued in a quiet voice, his eyes still calmly scanning the lines of the page.
Nott: "It's not that I love books... I just hate ignorance more."
Stray, with a mocking smile, leaning against the wall: "Oh, of course. The great philosopher speaks… How can you philosophize when you're still in seventh or eighth grade?"
Nott, in a quiet, indifferent tone, eyes still fixed on the book: "Grades? They're just numbers..."
Stray, frowning slightly: "Hmm?.. What?"
Nott, slowly flipping a page, not looking up: "I've read everything in those textbooks... from the first page of first grade… to the last word in the final year of high school."
Stray, taken aback, his curiosity piqued: "Oh… really? And now what?"
Nott, gesturing lightly toward the book in his hands: "This is a university-level book… I'm working on finishing it. I plan to complete it and others like it within four months."
Stray, his tone shifting from sarcasm to confusion: "Four what?! Why are you doing all this?... Didn't you say they're pointless?"
Nott, softly: "To me… they're still just empty molds."
Stray, with a skeptical look: "And yet, you read them all?..."
Nott, glancing at him for a moment, then back to his book: "Even if they're shallow… I didn't ignore them. They're not completely worthless.
In everything... even the simplest of ideas... there are seeds of knowledge. But they're often drowned in constraints and repetition."
Stray raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly, his playful smirk fading just a bit.
Stray, looking more intrigued: "And what's the point of it? You're not officially studying anyway."
Nott, turning the page slowly: "Knowledge doesn't belong to a specific age group or a specific curriculum. It's available to anyone who has the passion and the ability to extract it... even from within the limits of those curriculums.
I see in every text a chance to understand the world from a new perspective… or perhaps, to understand how they want us to think."
moment of silence passed.
Nott, without looking up, said quietly.
Nott: "gnorance is the slowest kind of death... and the most common.
If you understand the boundaries of what they give you... you can go beyond those boundaries."
Stray slumped onto the couch beside him, as Nott took a sip from the cup, then quietly placed it on the table.
Nott, sighs: "Ugh… don't you have anything other than this juice…?
I wish I had hot cocoa instead…"
Stray, in a teasing tone: "I thought you'd had enough of that stuff already. You ask for it at every café we pass.
I still don't get how you keep drinking that kiddie drink."
Nott took a quiet sip from the cup, his eyes still focused on the pages of the book. The dim light hanging above reflected off the edges of the glass and into his tired eyes. Everything seemed normal… until something unexpected happened.
A strange warmth... unfamiliar... crept onto his lips. It wasn't the usual warmth of liquid… it felt alive, pulsing.
Suddenly, the taste of the juice vanished. Disappeared as if it had never existed.
He abruptly stopped drinking, his eyes widening... then…
Nott, in discomfort, spitting it out: "Aaah… ughghh… what is this?!"
He quickly moved the cup away from him, staring at it in disgust.
Stray, surprised, stepping closer: "Oi! Stop whining, you spoiled brat! It's not that bad!"
Without hesitation, he took a confident sip from the same cup and swallowed.
A moment of silence…
Then his expression suddenly changed... his eyes twitched, his eyebrows dropped, and his face froze.
Stray, clearing his throat, pushing the cup away: "...Ughgh… damn… it really is bad."
Nott, sharply: "That's not what I meant!"
Stray, stepping back a little, raising a brow: "Then what's the problem?"
Nott, pointing at the cup, tense: "This… isn't juice!"
Stray, glaring at the cup, cautiously: "...What?"
Not carefully placed the cup on the table between them, like he was handling something dangerous.
Nott: "Look at it yourself! Does this look like one of your disgusting juices you bring around?"
Stray opened his mouth to respond, but the words got stuck in his throat…
And then... A faint red glow shimmered from within the cup.
Like a flicker of lightning.
Then… it vanished.
Both of them froze. Their gazes locked onto the empty space where the cup had just been.
Nott, in stunned disbelief, voice barely audible: "W-What… was that?!"
Slowly, Stray rose to his feet. The usual playfulness in his eyes had vanished. Now, they were sharp… focused. He stepped toward Not and raised his right hand firmly.
Stray, with rare seriousness: "Imagine something. Anything. Think of it appearing in this hand!."
Nott, hesitating, tense: "...What? Wait, are you saying this is… a new feature of my ability?!"
Stray, firmly, leaving no room for argument: "Just do it!"
Nott exhaled nervously, his fingers trembling slightly. He lifted his hand in front of him, staring at it as if trying to command the air to obey him.
His face tightened... a mix of focus, fear, and curiosity.
A moment passed… then...
The red light returned.
Stronger this time.
It surged briefly…
And within seconds, the cup fully reappeared in his palm, as if it had never disappeared.
Nott, in awe, eyes wide: "This!!
Unbelievable!"
He stared at the cup, then at his hand, then at Stray… as if seeing himself for the first time.
Nott: "Have I… had this ability all along?!"
He raised the cup again, sniffed it… Took a small sip.
Paused. Reflecting on the taste.
Nott, muttering: "This tastes like cocoa…
But without flavor."
Stray, coldly: "Imagine a dagger."
Nott pauses for a moment, then takes a deep breath and repeats the motion. Suddenly, a dagger appears in his hand, the one he's used to.
Nott, in awe, stares at the dagger and its sudden appearance, as if he can't believe what's happening. Meanwhile, Stray turns, his eyes gleaming as though searching for something else.
Stray, turning around, looks around, then spots one of the swords on the ground: "Imagine that sword over there."
Nott lifts his gaze toward him, stares intently at the sword, then mutters quietly.
Nott, hesitantly: "A sword?... It would be useful if I could summon it in battle."
Nott breathes deeply, then tries again, but the sword doesn't appear in his hand.
Nott, confused: "Hmm? This is strange... it seems like..."
Nott approaches the sword, touches it lightly, and suddenly the sword appears in his hand.
Nott, smiling: "As I expected... It seems I need to touch the thing I want to summon. And also..."
Suddenly, the sword disappears from his hand as if it had never existed.
Nott, in disbelief: "...It doesn't teleport. It appears as a copy in my hand, but only lasts for a few seconds when I release it...
What a complex ability."
Nott turns toward Stray, who has been watching everything with curiosity. But Stray shows no clear reaction.
Nott, anxiously: "Are you okay?"
Stray, indifferently: "Hmm? Oh... yeah, don't worry. And about this... seems like it's part of your ability."
Nott, still thinking: "...But... how is it possible that I couldn't use it before?"
Stray playfully slaps Nott on the back, his palm delivering a teasing hit as he effortlessly breaks the tension in the air. With a smirk, he walks toward the kitchen.
Stray, laughing: "You little brat, stop wasting your time thinking about it. A guy like you should be happy to have something this special.]"
Stray walks toward the exit, while Nott remains standing, staring at his hands, lost in his thoughts.
Nott: "[...I thought my power was 'instant teleportation' only, so how do I have this 'duplication' ability?There's no connection between them... But I also have another ability unrelated to my primary one, which is 'time travel'...]"
Nott stands for a moment, his eyes distant. His emotions are conflicted; his heart feels heavy and unsettled, while his mind continues to race. He thinks about everything he's been through so far, and the challenges ahead. There's a sense of anxiety creeping in.
Nott: "[So having such a power might not be so strange after all. ~ Sighs ~, this is complicated... Do I have more than one power? Has something like this ever happened to anyone before?!]"
Time passes, and the days go by in the blink of an eye, as Nott continues his daily training tirelessly. Every day, he wakes up with the sunrise, filled with renewed determination to overcome his challenges. He learns a great deal about his new power, delving into the depths of his unknown abilities, trying to understand how to use them precisely and efficiently in battle.
Moments of passion accelerate, filled with the pain of exhaustion and the joy of achievement. The three months became a journey of discoveries, where Nott gained new skills and tested the limits of his powers. He began to feel a deep connection between himself and that mysterious ability, as if it were a part of him.
And as time passed, specifically after one year and eight months, a sense of anticipation grew in his heart, preparing himself for the battle he'd long awaited. The time had come to face Stray, the opponent who represented everything to him: challenge, fear, and competition.
As the awaited moment drew near, Nott stood in the corner of the arena, sensing the tension filling the air. Everyone's hearts were pounding, and the crowd's voices grew more excited, while shouts of challenge and encouragement echoed from every side. This was the moment he had prepared for, the confrontation that would determine his fate.
His gaze shifts toward Stray, who stands confidently on the other side.
And as the battle begins, Nott realizes this isn't just a physical confrontation... it's a test of everything he's learned, everything he's endured.
It will be a defining moment in his journey, a turning point that will reshape his future.
Then, Stray moved.