Fiona stood across from Sensei Leonardo, her fists clenched, her body aching from the relentless hours of training. She could feel the weight of what was coming—the practice match, the test that loomed over her. But what came next was not what she expected.
Sensei Leonardo's eyes were steady, calm, yet piercing as he spoke, his words cutting through the silence with the ease of a blade.
"You're trying to spread an overwhelming and dazzling map of the future along with your broken wings," he began, his voice low but deliberate. "Instead of starting with something simpler, like coloring your daybreak."
At first, the words struck her as odd, almost childish, like something one would say to a confused child. But as they settled in, Fiona felt the truth of them sink deeper. Coloring your daybreak. It wasn't about grand battles or cosmic destinies—it was about something closer, more personal. Camilla. Her daughter. The thought hit her with unexpected force.
Sensei Leonardo was no ordinary teacher, she realized. He wasn't just here to guide her through the motions of becoming stronger or faster. He was here to teach her how to truly live, how to rebuild the pieces of herself that had been fractured long before she set foot in this training dojo. He was here to teach her how to mend her broken wings.
She took a breath, but her chest still felt tight. Her body was ready for a fight, but her mind struggled to process the meaning behind his words. The simplicity of coloring a daybreak seemed far from her grasp when her life felt like an endless night. The weight of the future—the battles against the Grand Lodge, the shadow of the Archknight—pressed heavily on her shoulders.
"Sensei," she said, her voice steady but uncertain, "I don't understand. What does any of this have to do with the fight we're about to have?"
Leonardo's expression softened for a moment, his gaze not as harsh, as if sensing the battle going on inside her. "This isn't just a fight, Fiona. It's a lesson. A lesson that transcends combat."
Fiona's confusion deepened, but she nodded, waiting for him to continue.
"You've been fighting with your fists, relying on force to carve a path forward. But force only breeds resistance. You seek to conquer, but in doing so, you're blinding yourself to the truth. To win today, you must confront me without using violence."
The air in the dojo grew heavy with his words. Fiona blinked, caught off guard by the condition.
"No violence?" she repeated, as if the concept were foreign in this place where fists and feet did the talking.
"Do not conquer the world with force," Sensei Leonardo quoted, his voice steady. "For it only causes resistance."
The wisdom in his words echoed Lao Tzu, the ancient philosopher she had heard from Archon and Dision but never truly understood until now. Sensei Leonardo wasn't just preparing her to fight battles with strength; he was pushing her to think beyond violence, beyond destruction.
But how? How was she supposed to win a match without using force? Fiona's entire journey had been about fighting—about pushing through the pain, standing her ground, surviving. How could she win without doing what had become second nature to her?
Leonardo's gaze didn't waver as he continued. "The stars of destiny do not burn with rage. They shine with reason."
Fiona's mind whirled. Reason? Was that what she had been missing all along? Had she been fighting only with her body, when what Sensei Leonardo was asking was for her to fight with her mind, with her heart?
She thought back to Sky—how he moved, how he fought. His battles weren't just about overpowering enemies. There was something else, something calm and precise about his strikes. He never fought with the hunger to destroy. His enemies fell, but not because he wanted them crushed.
Sensei Leonardo saw the flicker of understanding in her eyes and smiled, ever so slightly. "Sky understands this, Fiona. He fights not to defeat, but to resolve. You've seen him fight, but did you see him seek violence? Did you see him fight with the intent to destroy?"
Fiona shook her head slowly, flashes of Sky's battles running through her mind, in real life and in the game. He never struck with fury. Each movement was calculated, as though his thoughts, not his fists or his sword, led the fight. Could that be what she was missing? Could that be the key?
Sensei Leonardo stepped back, his stance relaxed, arms open. "If you can confront me without the intent to overpower, if you can fight with reason rather than force, you will understand the path of a true Star of Destiny. And maybe," his eyes softened, "you'll begin to color your daybreak, with the most beautiful colorbox, your daughter, Camilla."
The mention of her daughter sent a jolt of emotion through her. Camilla. She had been so caught up in her training, in the battles and the wars she would one day face, that she had forgotten the most important fight of all: the fight to rebuild her relationship with her daughter.
The air between them felt charged, as though every breath Fiona took pulled her deeper into the tension of what was to come. Sensei Leonardo's stance remained open, his arms relaxed at his sides. There was no trace of aggression in him, and yet, Fiona could feel the weight of his presence pressing down on her.
Her body moved into its fighting stance, but her mind faltered, trying to balance the two realities at play—the need to fight and the need to learn, to understand his cryptic words. As she stepped forward, her fists raised, the world around her seemed to shift.
The dojo faded at the edges, and the dense forest surrounding it began to seep into her awareness. The trees, tall and ancient, loomed like silent sentinels. The light of the day struggled through the canopy, casting long, dark shadows across the ground—shadows that flickered and danced as though alive, echoing the war within her.
Sensei Leonardo's voice cut through the air like a bell, clear and resonant. "You are both the soldier and the battlefield, Fiona. The battle you fight outside is only a reflection of the war within."
She rushed forward, her fist aimed at his chest—a clean, direct strike. But before she could even land the blow, he sidestepped effortlessly, his hand redirecting her momentum. His touch was light, barely noticeable, and yet it sent her spiraling off balance.
"You're still trying to conquer," he said calmly, stepping away as she recovered. "That's why you fail."
Frustration swelled within her, a wave of heat rising in her chest. She charged again, this time faster, her fists striking in rapid succession. Leonardo's movements were fluid, his body weaving through her attacks like water slipping through her fingers. Every punch she threw was met with a block or a counter that sent her reeling back, but he never struck her down. His movements weren't about overpowering her—they were about revealing her weakness.
"Think, Fiona," he commanded, his voice cutting through the haze of her growing anger. "You cannot defeat me with force. You cannot overpower your shadows with violence."
But the shadows in her mind were growing. Each block, each counter pushed her deeper into the darkness of her own thoughts. She could see it—the failures, the mistakes, the moments of regret.
The day she left her home behind.
The anger she had carried with her for so long. Her fists tightened as these images flashed through her mind, each one a reminder of her pain.
"I have to win!" she shouted, her voice raw, her fist once again aimed at his chest. She felt the anger behind the strike, felt the force of her own desperation, and yet Sensei Leonardo was already there, his hand catching her wrist mid-punch.
His grip was firm, unyielding, but not harsh. He looked her in the eyes, his gaze piercing through her rage and confusion.
"Winning doesn't mean destroying," he said softly. "To win, you must first confront your darkness. Not fight it, but accept it."
Fiona's heart pounded. The shadows around her seemed to close in, swirling at the edges of her vision. The forest became darker, the trees like looming specters. But in the center of it all was her, standing at the precipice of her own mind, a battlefield of light and shadow. She could feel it now—the weight of her past, her guilt, her failures. All of it crashing down around her.
Sensei Leonardo released her wrist and stepped back. His stance remained open, inviting.
"Look inside yourself," he said, his voice a quiet command. "What do you see? Do you see the soldier you've tried to become, or do you see the battlefield of your own soul?"
The question hung in the air, and at that moment, Fiona hesitated. Her eyes drifted downward, her fists still clenched, but her mind began to shift. She could see it—the broken pieces of herself scattered across the battlefield of her mind. The guilt of leaving Camilla in that house. The rage at the Grand Lodge. The fear of not being enough, of never being strong enough.
Her fists loosened.
The darkness didn't dissipate. It didn't fade away. But she could feel it now, the shadows that had followed her all this time, lingering just beneath the surface. And instead of fighting them, she began to accept them. To confront them, not as enemies, but as parts of herself she had ignored for too long.
Leonardo saw the change in her posture, the subtle shift. "You can't fight what you refuse to see," he said, his voice softer now. "Your shadows are not your enemy, Fiona. They are you."
For a moment, the dojo faded entirely, replaced by the vast, dark forest. Fiona stood there, alone, the shadows swirling around her. But instead of feeling overwhelmed, she took a breath. She looked at the darkness and saw herself—not the warrior she wanted to be, but the woman she was. The mother. The fighter. The human, broken and whole all at once.
Her eyes met Sensei Leonardo's again, and this time, there was no anger in her gaze. Only clarity.
"You cannot win by force," he repeated, his voice like a calm tide, steady and unwavering. "To be a Star of Destiny, you must understand that your greatest strength is not your fists, but your ability to see both the light and the dark within yourself. That is what makes you whole."
The forest around her seemed to grow quieter, the shadows less oppressive. She could still feel them, the weight of her past, her mistakes, her fears. But now, instead of trying to fight them, she embraced them. They were a part of her, and without them, she could never become the warrior she needed to be.
Sensei Leonardo took a step toward her, his eyes never leaving hers. "Now," he said, his voice low but commanding, "Let's see if you can truly fight—without fighting."
Fiona's fists clenched tighter, her muscles tense as she launched herself at Sensei Leonardo again, her body moving faster, more aggressively. She understood his words, she understood that violence wasn't the answer—but her instincts, forged in hardship and battle, refused to relent. Each punch, each kick was met with the same graceful deflection, the same effortless redirection.
Her frustration boiled over, a heat that consumed her from the inside out. She could feel it—every strike, every block only magnified the storm within her. Her movements became erratic, her attacks wilder, harder. The dojo walls blurred, the forest around them becoming a blur of chaos. Her mind, once focused, now fractured under the pressure of her conflicting desires—her need to win, to prove herself, to silence the voice inside that screamed that she was nothing.
She kicked high, her foot slicing through the air, only for Sensei Leonardo to sidestep, his hand barely touching her ankle as he sent her spinning off balance. She stumbled, caught herself, and lunged forward again, her fists flying in relentless succession. Each hit was blocked, her arms redirected with such ease that it felt like she was fighting a shadow.
"You're still trying to overpower me, Fiona," he said, his voice calm, almost sorrowful. "You're still trying to conquer."
His words sliced through her, deepening the anger that surged in her chest. She roared, her fists smashing toward him in desperation, her knuckles white as she poured all of her strength into every strike. The forest around them seemed to respond to her fury—trees cracked and splintered with every missed blow, the earth shaking beneath her feet as her frustration fueled her power.
But no matter how hard she fought, no matter how much force she used, she couldn't land a single hit. Each punch, each kick was met with that same graceful redirection, leaving her stumbling, falling, only to rise again and throw herself back into the fight.
The forest was breaking around her—trees falling, branches snapping, the ground tearing apart. It was as if her own violence was tearing the world apart, her inner turmoil manifesting in the devastation around her. And yet, Sensei Leonardo remained untouched, unmoved, watching her with that same steady gaze.
Her body ached. Her muscles screamed. Sweat poured down her face, mixing with the dirt and debris that littered the battlefield. But still, she fought. She fought because she didn't know how to stop. She fought because it was all she knew.
And then, in a final desperate attack, she lunged forward with everything she had, her fist aimed directly at his heart. But before it could even come close, Sensei Leonardo's hand was there, his palm resting gently against her chest, stopping her in her tracks.
"Enough."
The word wasn't loud. It wasn't harsh. But it cut through her like a blade. Her body froze, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she stood there, her fist still raised but unable to move.
Sensei Leonardo lowered her hand, stepping back. His eyes softened, no longer the stern gaze of a sensei in battle, but the compassionate look of a teacher who had seen his student struggle for too long.
Fiona collapsed to her knees, her chest heaving as the weight of her failure crashed down on her. The forest around them was in ruins—trees uprooted, the earth torn apart by her own violence. She looked at the destruction, and for the first time, it wasn't her fists that felt heavy—it was her heart.
Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. "I'm not a Star of Destiny," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm not what you want me to be. I don't have the gauntlet that they wear... I am nothing."
The words fell from her lips like a confession, raw and painful. She had never said it out loud before—never admitted the fear that had been gnawing at her for so long. The fear that she was nothing. That all of her efforts, all of her strength, meant nothing without the validation of being something more.
The tears came then, flooding her vision, streaming down her face. She cried, not out of frustration or anger, but out of a deep, aching sorrow that had been buried for too long. She cried for her failures, for Camilla, for every moment she had tried to be something she wasn't.
And Sensei Leonardo let her cry. He didn't rush to console her. He didn't tell her to stop. He simply stood there, watching her, giving her the space to release the storm inside her.
The wind blew through the broken trees, carrying the sound of her sobs through the ruined forest. The devastation around her mirrored the devastation within, and for the first time, Fiona truly felt the weight of it all.
After what felt like an eternity, Sensei Leonardo stepped closer, his footsteps soft on the broken earth. He knelt beside her, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. His voice was low, quiet.
"Do you need that gauntlet so badly to be one?"
She looked up at him, her face streaked with tears, her breath catching in her throat.
"Look at what you've done, Fiona," he said, gesturing to the fallen trees, the torn ground. "Not because of your power. Not because of your fists. But because of how many times you fell. Because of how many times I sent you flying, and you got back up. That's where your strength lies."
Fiona stared at the destruction, seeing it now not as a manifestation of her power, but as a reflection of her struggle. Her body ached from the countless times she had been thrown to the ground, but now, in the silence that followed her tears, she understood.
Sensei Leonardo helped her to her feet, his hand steadying her as she stood. "It's not your character in those video games that's becoming stronger, Fiona," he said softly, his eyes meeting hers. "It's you. You are building yourself from the ground up."
She looked at him, her heart still heavy, but now there was something else—something lighter, something clearer. She remembered Sky—how he fought not to destroy, but to create. How, in the game, he had built his island, where technology and nature coexisted in harmony.
Fiona wiped the tears from her face, her breath still shaky. The storm within her had calmed, but the aftermath was clear. She was not a Star of Destiny because of some gauntlet or title. She was a Star of Destiny because of who she was. Because of the battles she had fought—not with her fists, but with her heart.
Sensei Leonardo stepped back, his eyes drifting over the devastation that surrounded them—the fallen trees, the broken earth. He nodded, satisfied, then turned his gaze toward the sky, as if calling out to something unseen.
"Daemon," he said calmly. His voice echoed through the silence of the ruined forest. "Rebuild the dojo. Rebuild the forest, please."
There was a brief pause, and then the ground beneath Fiona's feet began to tremble softly. Slowly, before her eyes, the forest began to heal itself. The shattered trees lifted from the ground, their broken limbs fusing back together as leaves sprouted from their branches once again. The earth smoothed over, the cracks disappearing as if they had never existed. The dojo, which had been little more than rubble moments ago, stood tall and whole once more.
Fiona watched in awe as the world around her was restored. It was as if her violence had never touched it, as if her mistakes had been wiped away, leaving only the promise of renewal.
Sensei Leonardo turned to her, a small smile on his lips. "This place will always welcome you, Fiona. Your failures, your violence, your pain—it's all part of you. And that's why this place will always be here for you."
Her breath caught in her throat. She had felt so lost, so broken, but here, in this virtual space, she was being given something she had longed for—a place where she could belong, even with all her flaws. She wasn't being rejected for her mistakes. She was being invited to grow from them.
Sensei Leonardo glanced upward again. "Daemon," he called. "Let her rest. Her body needs to recover, but in this world, she can still grow."
Fiona's heart quickened. She had forgotten how exhausted she was, how much her real-world body must have ached after the intense session. But here, in this digital space, she could stay, she could continue.
He looked at her, a gentle but knowing expression on his face. "You're not just a warrior here, Fiona. You can play. You can grow. You don't have to carry the weight of the world in every step you take."
Fiona blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in tone. Play? It felt almost absurd after everything that had just happened. But the idea felt... comforting. And then she remembered. There was still something left unfinished.
Her thoughts drifted to the quest she hadn't continued—the task of repairing the spell that powered the shield over Eschenfrau. It had been waiting for her, just as she had been growing stronger, preparing for the moment when she could finally face it.
She looked at Sensei Leonardo, her voice barely a whisper. "The shield… I need to fix the spell. I haven't finished the quest."
Sensei Leonardo smiled knowingly. "Then go, Fiona. Continue your journey. Remember, every step you take here is a step toward your real self."
Fiona nodded, her heart swelling with a renewed sense of purpose. The weight of the session still hung heavy in her chest, but now there was something else—something lighter. A reminder that, even after the darkness, she could still rise.
As she let herself fall, the familiar hum of Eschenfrau's magic resonated in her mind, calling her back to her quest. She would fix the spell. She would repair the shield. And maybe, just maybe, she would begin to repair the fractures in her own heart.
With one last glance at Sensei Leonardo, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, sleep reclaiming her, with her mind focusing on the challenge ahead.