For his day off, Sandro had decided to do a bit of art, as he hadn’t had the chance to create anything recently due to the trials.

  Currently, he was lounging on the rooftop of the hotel, sitting on the edge of the building atop a ledge. Sandro found the view rather appealing, as it offered a sweeping sight of the city.

  Retrieving a sketchbook and a pen that rested beside him, he began working on a sketch he had wanted to do for quite some time.

  However, as he finished the sketch, his face contorted in irritation—he was dissatisfied with his work. Frustrated, he tore the page out, crumpled it in his hand, and tossed it behind him. Then, he began another attempt. But that, too, failed to meet his standards. Again and again, he tried, destroying page after page. It was only when he reached the very last page of his sketchbook that he finally felt satisfied with his work.

  He took a brief moment to sigh in satisfaction as he compared his artwork to its inspiration. Upon the page was an interpretation of the coliseum where their trials had taken place. At a cursory glance, it appeared to be nothing more than a perfect carbon copy of the original. However, upon closer inspection, one would notice how every minute detail had been amplified and taken to an extreme.

  Satisfied with his first piece of the day, Sandro swiveled around, preparing to get off the edge of the building—only to suddenly stop. It was only now that he noticed just how many pages, he had left strewn about in the process of creating his artwork. Seeing the mess, he clenched his teeth before stating in embarrassment, “I have to pick all of this up before I start on the next piece.”

  After spending several minutes gathering the crumpled pages, Sandro was finally ready to move on to his next project.

  Retrieving a piece of wood from his duffel bag along with a carving knife, he began whittling away with intense focus and precision. Every cut he made was deliberate and meticulous. However, even he made mistakes throughout the process. Yet, rather than attempting to hide them, he chose to highlight them—making them more pronounced while still ensuring they appeared as an intentional part of the artwork rather than an accident.

  By the end of his work, he was left with a recreation of the building where he and Alexander had fought to secure the antidote.

  The last thing he wanted to do was less about artwork and more of a ritual of sorts. He retrieved a simple metal flute from his duffel bag and returned to the ledge of the building.

  He then began to play a song he had practiced ever since he was little. The song itself was very special to him, as it had been sung to him by the traveling group of Ascended who had stopped by his village.

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  The melody was energetic and lively, yet it had moments of calm sprinkled throughout.

  ...

  In her room, Curie had been spending her time watching old movies she had never seen before.

  However, it was not for the purpose of enjoying their stories. Instead, she watched them to prevent her mind from idling, challenging herself to see how much of each movie she could predict. This went beyond simply guessing endings or certain interactions—she anticipated entire lines of dialogue before they were spoken.

  Once she grew tired of that mental exercise, she moved on to a different one. Using her communicator, she played various types of sounds at random intervals, setting the volume to the maximum level possible.

  She then sat cross-legged in the center of her bed, attempting to meditate and keep her mind focused despite the distracting stimuli. Typically, she could block out most distractions, even in the heat of battle.

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  Unfortunately, in this case, the sounds playing were ones she knew would distract even her. However, she did this to ensure that she would always remain focused.

  But something outside of her intended distractions interrupted her—a familiar knocking sound at her door.

  ...

  Meanwhile, Alexander found himself back in the hotel’s gym, practicing his swordsmanship.

  Even he knew better than to overexert himself after the ordeal he had previously faced. So rather than engaging in a full workout, he simply cycled through various stances and performed light exercises.

  His combat style primarily focused on deception—striking from unexpected angles. He also implemented tactics that placed his opponents in difficult situations, using the environment to his advantage.

  Although he moved through the various forms with incredible skill, there was little passion behind it. He practiced with diligence not out of enjoyment but because he knew it would serve him well in the future.

  Afterward, he returned to his room, eventually lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling for quite some time. Outside of training, he had very few personal interests. The few other things that typically occupied his time were rather unpleasant to him, as they mostly involved interacting with other elites in the pursuit of business or furthering his goals.

  Originally, Alexander was content to spend his day off doing nothing. But it seemed his plans were about to be interrupted. A familiar, repeating knock sounded at his door.

  In response, Alexander got out of bed and opened it.

  Standing outside was Sandro, alongside a somewhat reluctant—yet ultimately resigned—Curie.

  With an energetic tone, Sandro asked, “You want to hang out and have some fun tonight?” Then, pointing a thumb toward Curie, he added, “Because I got this one to agree, but I’m doubtful she’ll be a great conversationalist.”

  The three spent the remainder of their day off hanging out together.