Morning returns to the same living room. In the kitchen, Ulrich is waiting for them with the professor.

  – Good morning. Breakfast first. Then you change into these training suits and we begin. Gobby goes with the professor. German, you stay with me.

  Ulrich points to a pile of sports gear – MMA leggings and tops, blue tracksuits, socks, and wrestling shoes.

  The boys exchange glances and nod. Breakfast passes in silence, heavy with what is about to begin.

  They change quickly. German takes his notebook and pen. At the tatami room, he stays with Ulrich, while Gobby follows the professor into the room with the computers.

  Ulrich turns to German.

  – All right. Let’s be honest. At your current level, you cannot stand against someone with physical advantage. Gobby has that. Even now, if he were your enemy, you would lose. And Drogo is far beyond that. He has spent years refining his skills, killing those close to the Lord. Your task is different. You do not confront the enemy. You reinforce Gobby.

  A memory rises in German’s mind – the door opening, Drogo standing inside his house.

  – So there will be moments when I can do nothing at all? he asks quietly.

  Ulrich watches him.

  – In my team with Vann, who do you think played the supporting role?

  German hesitates.

  – If Vann shot from a distance… then him?

  Ulrich shakes his head.

  – No. I was physically weak. My ability is analysis. I read movement, posture, balance, facial tension. I look for the weakest points in the body. That is why I use the lightest weapons – knives and anything with a sharp edge, even razors. I don’t cut because I want to. I cut because I know I don’t have the strength to deal serious damage with single blows.

  He leads German to the training dummy and points at the surface covered in scars.

  – I made thousands of cuts on this one to understand how it works. A supporting role does not mean standing aside. It means being inside the action. Vann followed my instructions so that, at the right moment, I could use my ability and finish what he started.

  Ulrich straightens.

  – Your strength is logic. You connect objects and circumstances. We need to learn how to use that so you can control what happens from within the fight and amplify Gobby’s attacks.

  He gestures toward the weapon stand.

  – Look carefully. Use your ability. Think about what could help you if you are forced into close combat.

  German moves along the weapon stand, studying each item. Knives, darts, blades – each object sends his thoughts racing. At last, he stops in front of a thin metal spike.

  Ulrich notices.

  – Hm. Yes… that could work.

  German takes the awl in his hand. An image flashes through his mind – Drogo pinning Gobby to the floor, the bottle shattering against Drogo’s head.

  He turns back to Ulrich.

  – I like the awl. But I need something else to use it safely at close range. We don’t have time for me to practice thousands of strikes on a dummy.

  Ulrich thinks for a moment.

  – That’s true. There is a solution. Pepper spray.

  His voice firms as the plan forms.

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  – From today on, you will learn to turn circumstances to your advantage. In close combat, you blind the opponent first. Then you strike the vulnerable points. That will compensate for your lack of physical strength.

  He crouches, opens a lower drawer, and takes out several kubotans, placing them in German’s hands.

  – Come.

  They return to the living room. Ulrich goes to the bookshelf, pulls out a thick volume titled Anatomy and Acupuncture, and lays it on the table.

  – This is your assignment. From now on, this house – and everything outside it – is your training ground. Your target is Gobby.

  German lifts his eyes.

  – Read the book. Find his weak points. Use the kubotans to strike them. Use the environment to get close to him or to distract him. Anything around you can become a tool.

  Ulrich watches him carefully.

  – Is that clear?

  – When do I start?

  Ulrich glances toward the corridor.

  – As soon as Gobby leaves his room.

  The professor gestures toward a chair.

  – Gobby, sit down.

  Gobby obeys. The professor opens his case, takes out a metronome, and sets it in front of him.

  – Professor, what is that?

  – A metronome. It is used to guide a person into a hypnotic state.

  Gobby watches it with suspicion.

  – And why do I need that?

  The professor lowers his voice.

  – It is time for you to meet Deda again and become what you once were. I hope he will answer. I must warn you first – I will need to give you a pill to help you enter a trance. I will not do it without your consent. But without it, nothing will work.

  Gobby winces, childhood memories tightening his expression.

  – Is it one of those pills?

  – Yes. One of them. But the ones you took before drained your energy and clouded your mind. I want to reboot your system. When it restarts, I will be able to speak to him. You will relax as much as possible. The pill will raise your energy level, and when the brain and the body begin to work in different modes, a reset should occur. At that moment, all defense mechanisms will shut down.

  Gobby swallows.

  – I do not understand much. But if this is necessary, I trust you.

  The professor nods.

  – Then do exactly as I say. Do not think. Just follow my voice. Drink.

  He gives Gobby the pill and a glass of water.

  – Bend your knees. Feet flat on the floor. Rest your hands on your thighs so your elbows touch your legs. Curve your back. Look at the metronome’s needle.

  He starts it.

  – Now listen to me. Breathe in deeply through your nose. Breathe out twice as fast. Keep repeating. Watch the needle. Whatever happens, think only about your breathing and the movement of the needle.

  The pill takes hold. Adrenaline surges. Blood rushes through his veins. Sweat breaks out. His skin flushes red. His muscles start to throb. Gobby continues to breathe and follow the needle.

  His body no longer obeys him.

  Two minutes pass. His head spins. He pitches forward.

  The professor catches him and lowers him back against the chair. Gobby’s head falls back. He is unconscious.

  The professor pulls another chair close and sits in front of him. He leans toward Gobby’s face.

  – My friend… can you hear me?

  The world drops into darkness.

  The professor stands alone. Before him lies Gobby, his face pressed into a pool of black liquid. The way Gobby lies tells him which path to take. He steps around him and moves forward into the void. Somewhere ahead, a heavy crash rolls through the dark.

  Another sound follows. Ripples spread. Black roots emerge from the shadows and crawl over his boots, slide beneath his trousers. When they touch his skin, they hesitate, then withdraw, recognizing him. The roots part, opening a narrow passage.

  The professor walks on without slowing. The darkness parts before him.

  He stops.

  An altar rises ahead, towering over him. Upon it, sunk in deep sleep, sits Deda.

  Roots coil around Deda’s body. They bind him like chains, yet at the same time they feed him, holding him in life.

  The professor calls his name.

  Again.

  Louder.

  And louder.

  The vision breaks.

  Gobby jerks upright. His head snaps forward and stops inches from the professor’s face. He stares straight into his eyes. Veins swell around his sockets and run down his neck. His eyes open, filled with red.

  – Well, hello, my old friend.

  Gobby smiles in a way that does not belong to him. He raises a hand, rests it on the professor’s head, and runs his fingers through his hair.

  – What is it, friend? Decided to die? And where did your hair run off to?

  The darkness pulls them back.

  Deda now towers above the professor, immense, his arms still wrapped in roots.

  – You haven’t changed, the professor says. Only grown a little… and maybe become bigger.

  He smiles.

  – Still have your sense of humor. I’m proud. So why did you come? We said goodbye, didn’t we?

  – He needs you.

  – No. He does not need me.

  – You feel everything that happens to him. You know he almost died.

  – But he did not. My strength is enough to keep him alive. I do not want him to be an outcast because of me. He does not need me.

  – So you will not help? You will not return?

  – No.

  – Then tell him that yourself.

  The professor steps aside.

  Behind him stands Gobby. Small. Fragile. Just as he was the last time they met. He looks up at Deda, eyes wide. Slowly, he lifts his arms and reaches toward him, asking to be held.

  Deda’s heart contracts.

  Gobby runs to the altar, clings to Deda’s enormous leg, and whispers,

  – Come back to me.

  Deda tears at the roots with all his strength, desperate to reach him. One massive hand breaks free. He lifts the child into his palm and brings him close. Gobby clutches his face with both hands.

  – I am with you. Everything will be all right now.

  The dark world collapses inward.

  Gobby sits before the professor and breaks into tears. Sobs burst out of him, sudden and violent.