*Layla's POV
There are only two reasons why someone might forget something. The first is due to external factors—maybe a blow to the head or a traumatic experience in the past. The second is simply because they never experienced it in the first place.
I still can't say for sure, even after talking to him and seeing him so close. I don't think San forgot anything. What if he just never knew?
Mala said San is a Class One Subject. Put simply, he's like a live bomb hidden inside a beautiful birthday cake. There's nothing about him that seems dangerous, but of course, a bomb can explode and destroy everything.
Mala said that, unlike me, the researchers have a hard time collecting data from San. not only because he knows nothing—about the Weavers or Solaris—but also because he doesn't understand his own power.
San only said one thing before they began the research: that they must not let him feel comfortable here.
It might sound like a threat. But I understand exactly what he meant. Comfort means having nothing to worry about. Comfort means having a place to return to. And for San, he doesn't have a place like that. Not yet, at least.
Like the orphanage he stayed at before this. I don't know how long he'd been there. I just saw a news clipping while gathering information in the human world. It was about an orphanage that burned down in a mysterious black explosion. A tragedy that took 40 lives—they vanished without a trace—except for one boy. A seventeen-year-old who claimed responsibility for the incident.
It was the right decision to stage a similar disruption to follow him. However, mine was on a much smaller scale without a single casualty. But it worked. It led me to San.
And now I understand why, even after observing him longer than they did with me, the researchers still haven't been able to get anything.
His power isn't simple. It defies every concept of Atma's manipulation and every historical truth we've believed for centuries.
The Weavers believe his power isn't about how he can blow up a place, a city, or an entire country. It's not about how strong, dangerous, or absurdly powerful it is. It's always about the person who holds that power.
Maybe the gods sent him to punish us, to destroy us. Or perhaps he's a miracle. A savior meant to free us from the chains of our sins.
It's not about his power, but about the fate he would create for us.
That's why I think it makes sense to call him a live bomb. And keeping him in a facility like this is the most reckless thing I've ever seen.
I've made up my mind after that meeting. Just a few more days to stay and prepare some things. After that, I'll take San to Calmora.
***
The next day, the test was conducted differently.
They still brought me to the hall, but this time, there were no automatic rifles or bowls filled with elemental things. They followed my suggestion.
The night before, after returning me to my room, I gave Mala an idea for a test that might yield more data about San's power. And so now, in the hall, San and I stood face to face.
The researchers watched from behind the glass window, observing what would happen. Now, as I requested, each of us has a wooden sword in our hand, each about the length of an arm.
The test was simpler, although the ultimate goal remained the same. They hoped to learn something about San's abilities. This time, they let me do whatever I want.
"Hold your sword like you're shaking hands, and set your stance like you're about to take a step," I called out, twirling my sword. "Whatever happens, don't let go of your sword."
San swallowed hard. His movements were stiff as he followed my instructions.
"Tell me," I asked, "how many steps apart are we right now?"
San frowned. "Seven steps."
"And how many steps do I need to reach you?"
"Six?"
"Two." I took the first step, then leaped on the second.
San's face looks surprised at how quickly the distance vanishes. Luckily, his reflexes were decent. His wooden sword moved just in time to block my strike aimed at his face. Unfortunately, his grip was still too weak. I slashed sideways, knocking the sword from his hand.
"I'm going to keep using the same moves," I told him. "Study the pattern with every repetition."
Second round. San blocked my first strike, dodged the second aimed at his waist, but couldn't avoid the third when I spun around and struck the same spot again.
Third round—San withstood seven attacks before losing his balance and falling. On the fourth attempt, he countered my first strike.
That caught me off guard. San twisted his body as I jumped, closing the gap by a step before I could land my attack. Now, I was the one blocking. He kept pressing the assault before I could set up my usual pattern. Forcing me to change the flow. On the fourteenth exchange, I pushed him back and raised my hand.
"Can you see the number of steps now?" I asked.
San was panting, still holding his stance. "Well, you're moving slower too."
This time, I smiled. "Let's go again. Forget the rules this time."
I tossed the wooden sword aside and pulled something from my pocket—a real blade. Shorter than the sword, but far more dangerous. One of the items I requested from Mala for this test. "If you hesitate… you die." And I charged him again.
San's eyes widened once more. He tried to close the distance first, swinging his wooden sword. I slashed—and with a real blade, the wooden sword split in two. My knife continued toward San's face. If my opponent had been anyone else, they would've died right then.
But of course, that wasn't enough to take San down. In an instant, he twisted his body, dodged my blade, and slammed his shoulder into me.
I staggered back a few steps. I didn't know why I was smiling—but I won't lie. It felt exhilarating. I ran at him again, this time faster. I changed direction with only two steps left, attacking from the side. With just a broken wooden sword, there wasn't much San could do except dodge or try to widen the distance. But that was exactly what I wanted.
Strike after strike. I lost track of time. All I knew was that this fight was becoming more and more dangerous for San. Until it reached a moment. When his sword was reduced to just a hilt, my knife heading straight for his throat, and his back pressed against the wall of the hall. San finally did what I'd been hoping for. What the researchers had been waiting for.
He vanished.
My knife sank into the wall behind him.
Teleportation. Just like I told him the night before. One of those mysterious powers with no clear explanation. I was curious to see what data they would gather from this test.
But San didn't stop there. He reappeared behind me, attacking with a kick.
I spun, dodging and counterattacking. Right before the blade could pierce his face, San vanished again. This time, he appeared beside me. Grabbed my waist. And charged.
I lost balance and fell.
San pinned me down. He held the hand gripping my knife and raised his fist toward my face—stopping just before it connected.
I laughed. Loud and unrestrained. All the weight on my chest evaporated. All my worries. All my fears. It was only then I realized—San really did forget everything. Or, as I suspected, maybe he never experienced those memories. But there was one thing I now knew for sure.
He was still the same San.
The same San I'd known six years ago. The San who always protected me. The one who taught me so much.
The San I could never defeat.
He lowered his hand and moved aside, dropping onto the floor beside me. He was breathing hard. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing," I answered between gasps. The door to the hall opened not far from us, and Mala stepped inside.
"Your power," I continued. "In Solaris, we call it Enigma. The power to alter fate."[]