Power of Zero

Cipher stood in the courtyard, the blindfold still tight against his face, the fabric damp with sweat. His arms ached, and his breathing came in ragged bursts. The Twin Stars felt heavier than they had any right to be, their silver handles cool yet unyielding in his grasp. Though blindfolded, he could almost see their strange flowing metal shifting beneath his fingertips, a constant reminder of how little control he truly had.

Across from him, Yuri's calm voice echoed, measured but firm.

"Again, Cipher. Form first. Left blade, guard. Right blade, strike."

Cipher exhaled, adjusting his stance. He focused on the weight of the blades, the tension in his muscles. His right foot shifted forward. Left blade up to guard. Right blade forward—

Clang!

Yuri's training sword smacked against the flat of his own, easily deflecting the strike. Cipher grimaced, staggering back. He knew where she was, could feel her presence, but the Twin Stars refused to respond properly. The blades' edges remained dull, lifeless.

"You're hesitating." Yuri's voice was calm, but a trace of disappointment lingered beneath her words.

"I know!" Cipher snapped, frustration boiling over as he lowered the blades. "I'm trying, but they—they won't cut!"

The Twin Stars were special. He understood that much now. They responded to intent—cutting intent. The sharper his focus on cutting through a target, the sharper the blades became. But how was he supposed to focus on cutting when he didn't want to hurt Yuri?

He couldn't just attack recklessly. Couldn't bring himself to aim for her like she was the enemy.

"Again."

Cipher raised the blades once more, taking a deep breath. He tried to picture the enemy—not Yuri—but it felt wrong. The blades shimmered faintly, the white of their edges swirling with light, but no sharpness came.

Clang.

Yuri deflected him effortlessly. Again and again.

Finally, she stepped back. "Enough. We're done for today."

Cipher dropped to his knees, the swords clattering beside him as he pulled the blindfold off. The pale light of the courtyard stung his eyes, blinding him more than the darkness had. His body trembled with exhaustion, but it was nothing compared to the ache of failure.

Yuri crouched beside him. She didn't speak for a long moment, then finally said, "You're focusing on me. That's your mistake."

Cipher blinked, confused. "But... you're my opponent—"

"No." She shook her head, her green eyes softening. "I'm not your opponent. I'm your teacher. And in battle, your focus must be on what you must protect—what's behind you, not what's in front of you."

Cipher stared at her, the words sinking in slowly.

"You told me you wanted to be stronger because you were tired of being helpless. Because you wanted to be someone who could make a difference. Then focus on that—on what you fight for."

He nodded slowly, chest tightening.

Yuri stood. "We'll continue tomorrow. Think about it. And Cipher—"

"Yes?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Stop thinking about me as fragile. I can break you in half if I wanted to."

Cipher flinched, but then he caught the slight smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. It wasn't a joke, not really—but it was a lesson nonetheless.

"What I mean is this: Even if you can't die, it doesn't mean you're invincible. It doesn't mean you can't be incapacitated. You can be trapped, overwhelmed, or drained to the point where you can't function. Your immortality isn't a free pass. It's a curse in some ways, too. And it will be used against you."

Cipher swallowed hard, thinking back to his first fight against the darkness, to the isolation he'd experienced. His immortality had kept him alive—but it hadn't protected him from suffering.

"So... I'm not invincible," he said quietly, the words finally sinking in. "But I can't just die."

"Exactly. That's why you need to be more than just strong. You need to be smart. Strategic. You can't rely on the fact that you'll just get back up."

She paused, watching him closely. "And above all, you need to commit to every strike. Your fear is holding you back. You're too focused on what you could lose instead of what you need to protect."

Cipher nodded again, this time with more determination. He understood now—he was fighting for more than just himself. He was fighting for everyone who depended on him.

That night, Cipher sat alone in his quarters, the Twin Stars resting across his lap. The flowing silver of the handles shifted endlessly, as if waiting for him to figure them out.

Focus on what you're protecting...

He thought of the people of the church, the kindness they'd shown him. The safety he felt here—something he'd never had before.

But it wasn't enough. It felt... hollow.

His mind drifted further—to the pain he had felt back on Earth. The isolation. The way no one had ever stood up for him. The way he had dreamed of being someone strong enough to protect the weak.

And suddenly, a spark ignited.

The blades pulsed, just for a moment. The white steel shimmered, a faint glow deep within the blades, like starlight trapped in glass.

Cipher clenched the hilts tighter, whispering aloud.

"I'll protect them. All of them."

The next morning, the training resumed. Cipher stood in the courtyard, blindfold secured, the Twin Stars resting lightly in his hands. Yuri's presence circled him like a shadow.

"Focus, Cipher. What are you fighting for?"

Cipher exhaled. The memory of pain wasn't what fueled him now—it was the promise he made.

This time, when he stepped forward, the blades responded. The edges shimmered, growing brighter, sharper. Not perfectly—but enough.

His strike came fluidly, a diagonal cut aimed just past Yuri's shoulder. She deflected it, but there was a trace of effort in her block this time.

A small grin touched her lips.

"Better."

Cipher didn't stop. He pressed forward. Not with anger. Not with desperation. But with purpose.

The Twin Stars sang with each clash, and for the first time, Cipher felt them—really felt them—becoming an extension of himself.

When the session ended, Yuri gave him a nod of approval.

"You're starting to understand. Keep that up."

As Cipher caught his breath, a familiar voice echoed from the courtyard's entrance.

"Well, well. Not bad for a toothpick with arms."

Cipher turned, still blindfolded, recognizing Axel's voice instantly.

"We'll be working together more closely starting tomorrow. It's time you learn more than just swordplay."

Cipher smiled despite the ache in his body. For the first time since arriving, he felt like he was moving forward. And this time, he wouldn't stop.