Leonardo stood in the center of the room, his eyes lingering on the intricate shapes Adalaide had carved with fervor into the walls.

  He was supposed to apologize, mend the rift his actions had caused, but here he is using her for information, finding himself in a strange standoff with this erratic, unpredictable woman.

  Her tears from earlier seemed forgotten, replaced by a manic focus as she continued sketching out geometric shapes with the precision of someone trying to solve a great cosmic puzzle.

  "How did you get flame manipulation?" Leonardo asked, his voice low but insistent. He wasn't sure if he was speaking as an investigator or a reluctant confidant, but he needed to know more. This woman—she was a riddle wrapped in a labyrinth.

  Adalaide's eyes flicked up to him briefly before returning to her work, as if the question barely warranted her attention. "Killing someone," she replied flatly, then seemed to reconsider.

  "No, not just killing. I threatened him, told him to give it to me, or I'd end him. He gave it to me, and then I killed him anyway. Wait—so, yeah, still killing," she said, a laugh bubbling out that didn't reach her eyes.

  Leonardo felt a chill crawl up his spine. He couldn't fathom taking a life so casually, especially for something as intangible as a skill. "Why kill someone… just because of a skill?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice steady.

  Adalaide finally turned to look at him, her gaze sharp and cutting. "Why do you hold a sword, then?" she retorted, eyeing the weapon at his side as if it had personally offended her.

  "It's blunt," Leonardo said, but his words were almost a whisper. He felt the weight of his own justifications pressing against him.

  Before he could react, Adalaide was on her feet, yanking the sword from his side with unexpected strength.

  She inspected it, tracing the length of the blade and the intricate etchings along its edge.

  "You've merged this with your skill already," she noted, her eyes narrowing as she studied both the sheath and the sword. "You're using Ascendant, aren't you? Double category?"

  Leonardo stiffened. "No, I—" he began, but Adalaide cut him off with a knowing look.

  "Yes, you are. That's rare," she said simply, handing the sword back to him. Then, without another word, she turned back to her wall of pyramids, her focus as unshakeable as ever.

  Leonardo watched her, bewildered. She was relentless, almost obsessive, and he could see the toll it was taking on her.

  Her hands shook as she etched the lines, her breathing ragged.

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  "Aren't you getting tired?" he asked, noticing the strain in her movements. Elara, he recalled, could only use her attachment skill a few times before exhaustion set in. Surely Adalaide couldn't keep this up forever.

  "Tired?" Adalaide echoed, not looking up. "Of course I'm tired. But I need to draw all the pyramids first, or I don't think I'll sleep," she said, her voice devoid of any inflection, as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

  Leonardo glanced at the mess of shapes that sprawled across the room. It was more than just an eccentric fixation; it was a coping mechanism, a desperate grasp at something tangible in the midst of chaos.

  "Why did you kill, then?" Leonardo pressed, trying to piece together the fragmented logic that drove her actions. "Was it the rain, the acidic fog, the drenched soil? Or the countless men?"

  Adalaide's eyes shifted to her sword, a distant look clouding her features. "The battlefield was a blur of screams and steel. I wanted to feel powerful, to own something that no one could take from me," she said, almost to herself.

  Leonardo frowned. "Killing doesn't bring you closer to your goals. It just… pulls you further away," he said gently, watching her reaction.

  "My goals?" Adalaide echoed, her brow furrowing as if the concept were foreign to her.

  "Right, my goal was to be with my family." Her voice softened, and for a fleeting moment, Leonardo thought he saw a glimpse of the woman behind the madness.

  Leonardo felt a knot tighten in his chest. He needed to tell her the truth, no matter how fragile her current state seemed. "About that… Your husband is still alive," he said slowly, measuring his words.

  Adalaide blinked, her expression blank. "Yes?" she responded, not seeming to register the weight of his statement.

  "Your husband—"

  "Leonardo," she interrupted suddenly, her tone shifting once again. Her eyes were cold and unyielding as she stared him down.

  "Do you know why I hate people? It's not because of the wars they've started, or the blood they've spilled. It's because of the lies. The petty deceptions they spin to justify their actions."

  Leonardo opened his mouth to protest, but Adalaide's words kept coming, a torrent of bitterness and fury.

  "You think humans are good? Look at me. People talk about forgiveness, but they hold grudges like weapons, always ready to cut deeper. I've watched them justify every betrayal, every selfish act, calling it survival. I'm not blind to the rare flickers of good.

  But If you think humanity is pure, you're fooling yourself. It's not the world that's unforgiving—it's us."

  Leonardo could only stare his face obviously struck with fear. Her eyes were dark, hollow, like the caverns he'd seen deep within Volnia. He knew that look—it was the gaze of someone who had lost everything or is willing to lose everything, who saw the world through a fractured lens of pain and distrust. "Adalaide, I—" he tried to say, but she wasn't listening.

  Where did i know that look again?, the thought spawned in his head randomly

  "And you've just given me another reason to hate you," she whispered, her voice so low it was almost drowned by the sound of her skill etching into the wall. "A new record, really—less than a day of meeting."

  "What?" Leonardo asked, bewildered.

  "I'm going to kill you," she said suddenly, standing up in one fluid motion. Her hands sparked with a violent red hue, Rasvian energy flaring as she summoned her power.

  The blast of heat hit Leonardo square in the chest, knocking him back. He stumbled, clutching at his shirt, feeling the burn spread across his skin.

  The room twisted, shapes blurring as the pain seared through him. He tried to steady himself, but Adalaide was already moving, her steps deliberate and slow.

  "This isn't about you," she said softly, almost as if she were trying to comfort him. "It's about everything you represent." directing at his head.

  Leonardo's vision darkened as he struggled to keep his footing. "Adalaide—"