Niwla hobbled back to the dorms, each step a fresh reminder of the holes in his feet. Stumbling into the room, the support of the walls was but a distance memory. Instead, he braced his against the cold, metallic ends of the bed frame, wings trembling from the strain. The gaps between the beds were a trail of their own. Forced to place the whole weight of his rotund body on his pierced feet. It was awful.

  Finally, he made it to his own bed. His fortress of comfort. A place where he hadn't visited since being locked up in Lapis' cafe, forced to refine Ice Essence for her experiments—much to his detriment.

  He collapsed onto the bed, shuffling his behind deeper into the center of the rectangular softness, leaving his feet dangling over the edge. Niwla stared into the holes, and they stared back. Droplets of red oozed out of them—a reminder of his carelessness during his tango with Bion. Turning around, he noticed that he had left a trail of blood, decorating the otherwise pristine room. Cleanup would be a problem for future him.

  Now, to address the elephant in the room.

  Niwla couldn't possibly begin training with such a grievous wound. Would a Small Healing Pill even be enough to heal these injuries? He doubted it. These weren't simple papercuts—there were multiple holes in his leg. Heck, some of them went through cleanly and out the other side, he could see light shining through some of the wounds. Not a sight for the faint hearted. It was a miracle that he even had the ability to walk. In all honesty, it was most likely the adrenaline suppressing the otherwise intense agony that he should currently be subjected to.

  It was yet another blunder. He should've taken advantage of such circumstances and made his way to the infirmary—wherever that was—rather than back to the dormitory just to lounge on his bed and partake in a little reflection session.

  Once the adrenaline wore off, he was in for a world of hurt, while his classmates were in for a world of having to endure his pathetic screams. They deserved none of that—barring Bion—while he deserved all of the pain and suffering.

  Turns out Niwla wasn't as smart as he thought he was. By analyzing the situation in a manner appropriate to his serious nature, he should've been able to puzzle out the ideal solution to his predicament. Instead, he barely scraped through his duel with Bion and didn't even think of seeking medical attention until it might already be too late.

  Niwla had sunk low. No better than the currently broken Winal who operated purely on instinct or the boy who turned everything into a joke, Alwin.

  "Hey."

  A voice from behind cut through his spiraling thoughts, jolting him out of his misery..

  Niwla turned around ever so slowly, apprehensive to find out the culprit responsible for intruding upon his moment of self-loathing. He had been so entrenched in his mind that he didn't even hear the creak of the door swinging open nor the pitter-patter of their footsteps. If this happened on the battlefield, he would've lost his life. Not by dying in the glory of battle, but by an assassination that could've been entirely avoidable.

  Facing him was none other than Uchronia, an expressionless face on her bulb—another reminder of how useless he was. She didn't even want him on her squad, and he could understand why.

  Bombing the city instead of revealing his Core Skill. Wasting time with Lapis. Struggling to defeat Bion. He didn't even want himself on his own team.

  "Oh… hi, Uchronia," Niwla muttered with a dejected tone, eyes sinking to the ground. He didn't deserve to look at her.

  "Catch."

  She tossed something at him. Niwla reacted on instinct. He fumbled around, trying to grasp the object. His wings unintentionally launching it up into the air, batting it higher with every desperate attempt. At this point he wasn’t even catching the object—he was juggling it.

  Each failed catch was a reminder of what he was now.

  A clown.

  A sad pathetic joke..

  At last, he managed to pin it within his wings. But it was a hollow victory. To think that even something as simple as catching was a struggle for him. He really was hopeless. Not even the fact that he was still getting used to his Cold Turkey form could excuse him.

  Niwla sighed, before at last looking at what Uchronia had thrown at him. Within his wing was a scarlet colored pill, slightly bigger than a marble.

  "A Healing Pill?" Niwla asked, looking up at Uchronia for an answer.

  "Yes. A Medium Healing Pill. You'll need it if you want to heal those wounds, unless you want to wait however long it takes for your body to naturally recover by itself." She pointed at his feet. "The emergency Small Healing Pills from the Sparring Room aren't going to cut it."

  "Oh… right. Thanks," Niwla muttered, before popping the pill into his beak.

  As soon as he swallowed it, a subtle warmth spread through his body. It was replacing the pain which had been increasing in waves from the receding adrenaline. The aching throb in his feet, dulled as the wounds began to mend themselves.

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  The holes shrank. Flesh stitching itself back together. Bones filled up the empty cavities. Arteries and veins restored severed connections. It was a slow process, but infinitely faster had he just left his body to his own natural healing devices.

  "That feels a lot better, " Niwla said, his wounds still in the process of closing up.

  "Good." Uchronia pulled out a notebook hidden within the confines of her bio-ceramic pot, before jotting something down.

  "But why are you here?" Niwla asked. "Shouldn't you be training? Why are you wasting your precious training time with a burden like me? I'm not worth it."

  Uchronia stopped writing, eyes glancing up from the notebook straight into his soul. She snapped the notebook shut with one leaf, storing it back inside of her pot.

  "As much of a burden as you currently are, you're still a member of my squad. It's my duty as the squad leader to ensure that my subordinates are combat-fit. Knowing you, you probably didn’t even consider finding the Academy Nurse to treat those wounds. What's more, given the severity of your injuries, it was a good opportunity to test out the Medium Healing Pills that I've recently refined. From the looks of it, I still have a ways to go before fully mastering the recipe."

  "You're refining pills now too? Did I happen to miss that class?" Niwla sighed. "Am I really that far behind everybody?"

  "There was never a class on refining pills. They only start teaching those classes when you're in your second year, after you choose your specialization. Since I plan to specialize in everything, I decided to read up more about pill refining and get a head start."

  "Oh."

  That was all Niwla could manage. He couldn't quite believe it. Uchronia was going above and beyond in her studies, tackling more advanced classes and preparing for the future. Heck, specializing in everything? Who'd be crazy enough to even do such a thing? The workload would be immense.

  Uchronia... She'd be crazy—no—driven enough to perform such a feat. Only someone with such determination could be Valedictorian and subsequently a Minister. Not him. Those aspirations of becoming a Minister one day were nothing more than a pipe dream. He really was a burden. The only thing that he was good for was being a guinea pig for someone else's experiments—first Lapis and now Uchronia.

  "Being depressed won't change anything, you know," Uchronia said flatly.

  "I know, but—".

  "No buts." Uchronia’s voice was sharp, cutting through his self-pity like a blade of grass.”While you're here, being sad, everyone else is working hard to improve themselves. Even that annoying sleazeball, Bion is practicing nonstop after that loss. And honestly? What was that fight? The Alwin I knew would've mopped the floor with him. He would've pulled off some ludicrous stunt dodging all of Bion's attacks. Not taking hits like a buffoon and barely scraping by. What happened to you? Explain yourself."

  "What happened to me..." Niwla trailed off, eyes falling back to the floor.

  "I guess, you happened to me. Ever since that whole city bombing spree, I've been trying to change. To become a better monster. Someone who takes things seriously and doesn't treat everything like a joke. But…” his voice wavered. “It doesn't seem like it's working. Now the only joke here is me," Niwla let out a small depressive chuckle.

  Uchronia took a step back, her eyes widening in surprise, before returning back to a neutral expression.

  "You're saying you're really trying to change?" Uchronia asked.

  "Just because I try, doesn't mean I'll succeed," Niwla let out another sad laugh. "I mean, look at me. You're right, I'm nothing but a burden. I don't even think about going to the infirmary to get some help. I needed you to bail me out. I’m so useless."

  Uchronia studied him for a moment before nodding. "It looks like you really are trying to change. The old Alwin would never react like this. A depressive spiral, really? He'd just get back up and concoct a crazy convoluted plan to get out of whatever hole he found himself stuck in—and most of which he dug himself into in the first place."

  "Well, that's not me anymore. No insane ideas. No wild shenanigans. No foolish plans. No dumb jokes. Just plain old seriousness."

  "Not even a little?" Uchronia asked, arching a leafy eyebrow.

  "Zero. It's probably why this was my latest evolution.” Niwla glanced at his wings, the faintest trace of sadness on his beak. “ I went cold turkey with the goofiness,"

  "You're a dunce, you know that. Why are you trying to suppress a core part of yourself? Even when you try to be all serious you end up telling a joke." Uchronia shook her head. "I get that you want to change, but have you ever thought that you're trying to change the wrong thing?"

  "The wrong thing? I'm trying to be more serious so that I would never be a burden to you again. How is that the wrong thing?"

  "Yet, you're just as much—if not even more—of a burden than before. What I needed from you was to pull your own weight and not waste my time with your antics. You got rid of the second part, but the first half is more than making up for it."

  "I..." Niwla didn't know what to say. This whole time he had been working on making the main body more serious, but at the expense of what made Alwin so unique in the first place—his creativeness. In doing so, he made himself less capable. Weaker than ever before. Perhaps Alwin wasn't as big of a screw up as he once thought he was.

  "I've been doing it all wrong haven't I?" Niwla muttered, burying his face in his wings.

  "Well, not all of it."

  "Really?" Niwla's head shot up.

  "It's not much, but after what I've seen today. I want you a little bit more on my squad than before."

  Niwla's face lit up upon hearing Uchronia's words. Not just his, but mind Alwin and mind Winal too. They had made progress! Not a lot of progress, but still progress nonetheless.

  "Got it, Uchronia," Niwla said, sitting up straighter. "I promise—I’ll never be a burden to you again."

  "Keep up the good work," she said, already turning for the door. "And this time? Work on the right stuff."

  With that, Uchronia walked out of the door, presumably to head back to training, leaving Niwla all alone with his almost healed up legs.

  This whole time, seriousness wasn't the key? Who would've guessed. It was because of this approach that his combat skills had regressed. It should've been obvious when he struggled so much during the Ice Tribulation. But, at the same time he wasn't wasting anyone's time with his pointless tomfoolery.

  Balance. That was the key.

  And to achieve that… he needed another meeting with mind Alwin and mind Winal. Alone, they were a menace. But together?

  They just might be strong enough to conquer the world.