Layron continued asking questions.....
Layron swallowed. "You said you only live for a year… Why? You're supposed to be so powerful — you're smarter, faster, sharper than anything I've ever seen. Why only a year?"
Falkren's talons flexed against the stone, scraping lightly across the surface. [[You just answered your own question.]]
Layron frowned. "What?"
[[We're more powerful in every way. Flight, sight, reflexes, even our minds process faster than yours. You've seen it.]] Falkren's wings fluttered slightly, like shaking off invisible weight. [[But power comes at a cost. Our bodies can't sustain it forever.]]
Shion's hands paused for a fraction of a second before resuming their work.
Layron's brow furrowed. "So you just… burn out?"
[[We don't age the way you do, boy. We don't wither. We overload. Every flight, every shift, every transformation strains us until the body can't keep up. By the time we reach our first year, our internal systems—flesh, bone, even the things you can't see—begin to collapse.]]
Layron felt a cold weight settle in his chest. "So that's why you die every year?"
Falkren's mechanical eye whirred, adjusting slightly.
[[We don't die. We change.]]
Layron shivered.
[[The moment we collapse, the Veilwind calls us. Our final breath carries not just who we were, but all we've ever been — every flight, every battle, every word we've spoken. That memory becomes the foundation for the next falcon.]]
Layron's jaw tightened. "So every time you're born, you remember everything?"
Falkren's beak curved into something almost like a smile.
[[Every death. Every fight. Every failure. Every moment from the first falcon to me — I carry it all.]]
Layron couldn't breathe for a moment.
"Humans don't remember anything from past lives," Layron said quietly. "But you—"
[[We remember it all. Because we are not born anew. We are born as one.]]
Layron's throat was dry. "So… you're not just you."
[[I am me. And I am the thousands who came before me.]]
Shion exhaled softly through his nose, like someone hearing a familiar story — one they respected but didn't envy.
Layron shook his head slowly. "That's insane."
Falkren's voice lowered slightly, losing some of its usual edge. [[You see it as a burden. I see it as duty.]]
Layron's heart clenched. "Duty to what?"
Falkren's head turned fully, both his organic eye and mechanical eye locking onto Layron like twin blades.
[[To you.]]
Layron's breath caught in his throat. "What?"
[[From the moment you were born, the Veilwind knew you'd need me. Everything I've been, everything I will be—it's all for you.]]
Layron stared, stunned. "Why?"
[[Because you are the crack in the seal. And I am the falcon meant to guard the crack until the very end.]]
Layron's head spun.
Everything — Falkren's impossible speed, his phantom form, even his unnerving gaze — all of it existed for him. Not because Falkren wanted to, but because he was made to.
The weight of it nearly crushed Layron where he sat.
"But—" Layron's voice cracked slightly. "If you die for me every year, then every version of you, all the ones before — they died for me too?"
Falkren's voice was soft now, disturbingly gentle. [[That's how it works, kid.]]
Layron's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles going white.
It was too much. Too much weight for a kid who still couldn't perfectly dodge Shion's darts, who could barely stand after fighting against a river. But deep inside — under the fear and confusion — a small ember of resolve flickered.
He couldn't waste this.
If Falkren — no, if generations of Falkrens had lived and died for him — then Layron had no right to fail.
He stood up, muscles screaming in protest, and faced the falcon.
"Teach me the next part," Layron said, voice still shaky, but solid.
Falkren's mechanical eye flashed.
[[You sure?]]
Layron's breath was unsteady, but he nodded.
"No more excuses."
The falcon's wings spread wide, and Shion stepped back with a grin.
[[Then try to keep up, boy.]]
---
The afternoon sun hung low behind thin clouds, casting ripples of pale light across the water. Layron stood at the riverbank again, his bandaged arm throbbing with a dull ache, but there was no room for weakness today.
This was the second round.
The water churned, fast and unrelenting, the current no gentler than it was that morning. Layron's legs already remembered the pull — the way the river clutched at his ankles like it wanted to drag him under.
Shion stood further back, arms crossed, another set of iron darts resting in his worn leather pouch. His face was unreadable, but there was no humor in his stance anymore. The playful jabs were gone. This wasn't training for fun.
Falkren perched lower this time, talons gripping a moss-covered rock jutting out of the water's edge. His mechanical eye dimmed, but it still scanned every twitch Layron made, processing each mistake before Layron even realized them himself.
"Back in," Falkren's metallic voice rasped.
[[No excuses, boy. You made it once — let's see if you can do it again.]]
Layron took a deep breath, stepping into the freezing water. Every muscle tensed in anticipation, remembering the pain from the last round. His calf still bore a thin line from where one dart had grazed him.
The moment the water hit his waist, Shion's hand moved.
The first dart sliced the air.
Layron barely twisted in time, the iron tip scraping past his ribs. Not deep — but it was still a hit.
"Dammit," Layron growled, forcing himself forward. The current immediately tried to throw him off-balance, but his legs remembered how to shift with the flow — not against it. Even so, his reflexes couldn't keep up with the constant barrage.
Two more darts whistled toward him.
Layron saw them — but too late. One clipped his shoulder, the other thudded into the water just beside his thigh. Blood mixed with the river, swirling like red ink lost in a storm.
Shion's expression darkened. Falkren's mechanical eye flickered once, but there was no praise.
Layron saw it in both their faces — the edge of disappointment.
He was improving, yes, but not fast enough. They weren't here to babysit him for weeks. This was life-or-death training — and at this pace, death was winning.
Layron's frustration boiled over, teeth grinding together. Why wasn't he faster? Why wasn't he better? He had been through hell these past days, but every step forward felt like it was still behind the edge of what they expected.
His foot slipped on a mossy rock, and another dart tore through the air, nicking his left ear before embedding into the trunk behind him.
That's when the thought hit him —
like a spark slamming into dry wood.
The Foresight Break.
His heart hammered against his ribs.
He had been using it against others. Predicting Gramps' movements. Tracking the bear's attacks.
But what if —
Layron's eyes widened.
What if he used Foresight Break on himself?
It was like a door swinging open in his mind — a door he hadn't even realized existed. All this time, he thought it was just for predicting enemies.
But what if he could predict himself?
Layron stumbled out of the water, chest heaving, ignoring the fresh cut on his arm. Shion raised a brow, about to say something, but Layron's eyes were focused somewhere far beyond the clearing.
He dropped to his knees, hands braced against the mud, and activated it.
The world didn't slow — not like before. Instead, it split.
Countless versions of himself — sprinting, dodging, falling, succeeding — played out in front of his mind's eye like a shattered mirror.
Each one was a future he could take.
Each one was a mistake he could avoid.
The Layron standing in the water dodged left — but the one in his mind dodged right.
One version slipped — but the smarter one shifted weight mid-step, keeping perfect balance.
Another took a dart to the chest — but the fastest Layron leaned into the current, flowing like Falkren's lesson demanded.
Layron wasn't reacting anymore.
He was rehearsing.
Dozens of times. Hundreds. Every step, every dodge, every breath.
It all played out before he even moved.
When his eyes snapped open, his body felt like it had been moving for hours — but not a single second had passed.
Shion's mouth opened, confusion flickering across his weathered face. "What the hell are you—"
Layron stepped back into the river.
This time, the water didn't feel like an enemy.
His feet slid into place exactly where they needed to. His torso twisted half a second early — just enough to slip between two whistling darts before they even fully left Shion's fingers.
Falkren's mechanical eye locked onto Layron, the inner lens rotating faster than Layron had ever seen.
[[What…]] Falkren's voice faltered for the first time. [[…is he doing?]]
Shion's brow furrowed. "That's not just Flowing Stride."
Layron's body flowed like water — not just with the current, but between the gaps in Shion's throws, as though he already knew exactly where they'd be before Shion's fingers left the dart's shaft.
He wasn't guessing anymore.
He had already seen it all.
One dart after another sliced past him — each one missing by less than a hair, but missing all the same. His body twisted, turned, bent at the waist or spun on a heel at the perfect angles to let the river move him while avoiding Shion's attacks.
It was perfect.
For the first time since training began, Shion hesitated.
"What the hell is this?" Shion muttered under his breath. "That's not normal."
Layron reached the other side of the river — not a single new cut on his skin.
He stood there, dripping, breath coming fast but steady, eyes wide with a look Shion hadn't seen in him before.
Control.
Pure, terrifying control.
The river, the darts, even his own body — none of it had been a threat.
Because Layron had already fought this battle a thousand times in his mind.
Falkren's mechanical eye pulsed faintly.
[[What… did you just do?]]
Layron turned back, shaking water from his hands.
"I practiced," Layron said, voice hoarse but certain. "I used Foresight Break on myself."
Shion's hand slowly lowered, the remaining darts forgotten in his grip.
"You… predicted yourself?" Shion's voice was incredulous.
Layron grinned — exhausted, but for the first time, confident.
"Why only predict my enemies," Layron asked, "when I can predict my own mistakes?"
Falkren's wings flared wide, and for a moment, the ancient falcon looked at him not like a student —
But like someone who wasn't supposed to figure that out.
[[Clever little bastard,]] Falkren muttered.
Shion let out a low, sharp laugh, shaking his head. "You just saved us a month of training."
Layron stepped out of the water, the weight of the realization still settling into his bones.
This wasn't just survival training anymore.
This was how he was going to win.
And for the first time, Falkren and Shion knew—
They might not be able to keep up with Layron's intelligence and instincts.
--- End of Part 02 ---